We did a little shopping this morning

Heather needed a lift to Blue Springs to pick her car up from the shop where it's been for about three weeks, so I told Cliff I'd go along.  We dropped Heather off, and Cliff said, "OK, what next?"  

"I assume you're going to wash the car?" I said.

"Yeah, how did you know?"

You see, Cliff took an unwise shortcut last week when we found traffic stopped near Oak Grove.  That whole town is a mess lately with all the road work going on, and Cliff is not very patient.  Anyhow, he saw the traffic backed up and turned onto a gravel road we've never been on.  It did lead home, thanks to the GPS, but it had rained, so mud splashed all over the car.  

I intended to buy ice cream at Walmart in Oak Grove on the way home when I picked up my prescription, so we planned our trip accordingly:  Drop Heather off, drive up the road to Ben's Garden Center, on to the car wash, then to Home Depot, then Walmart.  Sounds simple enough, right?

I was messing around with the flower bed out front the other day and saw what looked like a milkweed pod on a vine growing up and around a coneflower.  This reminded me that milkweeds are the only plant Monarch Butterflies eat, so I came inside and googled up milkweeds, only to find that whatever that pod was, it wasn't a milkweed.  Milkweeds aren't vining plants.  Right then and there I decided to go to Ben's at first opportunity and get myself a milkweed plant.  

My Native swamp milkweed plant

Everybody needs a Mum this time of year, right?

Ben's is my favorite garden center, mainly because of the guy who seems to run the place.  Is that Ben, or is it his father, John, who started the business 40 years ago?  It must be John, going by his fascinating Italian accent.  Surely a second-generation citizen wouldn't have an accent.  He carried my swamp milkweed to the car, and after loading it in the back-seat floorboard, looked past me and said, "What happened to my flag?"  I looked around, confused.  He said, "My flag is gone.  If somebody stole it, I'll kill them."  (All this in an Italian accent).  As he stormed over to his empty flagpole, he said, "You don'ta lika the flag, leave-a the country.  Right?"  

Cliff and I got a kick out of that.  The accent made it perfect.

I knew Home Depot wouldn't be a problem for Cliff because it's one of the few stores he actually likes.  He can always find something he needs there.  As for me, I was in the market for a range hood, since the one I have is awful.  I won't go into detail, just trust me on this.  Of course, like always, I found the rest room first, then headed out to search for the cheapest range hood they had.  From behind me, a lilting female voice said, "Donna, can I help you?"

I turned to see a smiling face I didn't recognize.  Was my name written on my back?  Who was this woman?  

I tend not to look people in the eye or study faces closely, so I've never remembered faces and names well.  Therefore, I'm often in the position of playing "guess who" with people.  This kind lady evidently noticed my confusion and said, "I hang out with Scott, your nephew."  

OK, but how does she know me?  I can't imagine our handsome, fifty-year-old bachelor nephew showing pictures of me to all his girl friends.  Back at the car, Cliff suggested she's probably visited our place:  You see,  excepting for his married years, Scotty has been bringing a string of good-looking girls out here for at least thirty years... introducing them to us, then tossing them aside just about the time we get attached to them.  Did she tell me her name?  Maybe she had a name tag?  I never notice anything!

She took me to the range hoods, found what I was looking for, and placed it in my cart.  

Moving on, we went to Walmart at Blue Springs, because at this point I'd forgotten all about my prescription at Oak Grove Walmart.  Cliff and I went our separate ways, but met up at the checkout counter.  I had my ice cream in the cart with the other 8 or 10 items.  There were long, slow lines of people waiting at every cash register that was open, so we just picked one.  Of course it was the slowest one of all, because we picked it.  Happens every time.  Since Cliff retired we try to be more patient, reminding ourselves these clerks don't get paid a whole lot, so if they move slow, surely we can be patient; besides, why should we be in a hurry.  The trouble is, I could imagine my ice cream melting as we stood there watching people move along at a snail's pace.  Even after we're in the car, we are still 25 minutes from home.  Why didn't I grab a cooler before we left?      

So there you have it:  Our shopping adventures in a nutshell.