Sarah Palin said the only thing separating hockey moms from pit bulls is lipstick.
well in the kosher supermarket where i shop, you can come see the pit bulls without lipstick.
it s out badly enough. i the store and for my list...only to have my hand come out of my pocket with a fistful of keys, but no list. my blood runs cold. this wasn't just some small list i could call my mom and have her re-dictate. this was a full-fledged Yom Tov Cooking List. in desperation i u around the cashiers stand and dash back out into the rain, and wonder of wonders, there's the list, right next to my car. it must have fallen out of my pocket as i was getting out. i it, and to my immense relief, it had only sustained minimal water damage. i it up, a new cart, and hurry back inside.
from there things go bad to worse. my mother is trying some new things for yom tov, so there i am, wandering up and down the aisles, desperately looking for stone ground mustard. i guess regular mustard isn't good enough. and i never realized how many different types of soy milks are out there. just when I'm beginning to despair of ever finding the cholov yisroel brands, (they weren't in the section with all the other milk products) i find tucked away with chocolate pudding. still haven't figured that one out yet.
dodging frustrated fathers, maniac moms, screaming sticky kids, and even helpless old grandmas, i doggedly steer my cart up and down the aisle, looking for the required items....a shallot. i gotta take my guess at that one. i think they hang out with the onions and garlic, so i grab last two and toss onto the every growing heap of vegetables. this time i remembered to get the foil pans last. as a guy in the next aisle so correctly was explaining to his friend "there's nothing worse than coming home and finding your foil pans like this" he demonstrated by twisting a foil pan half. i stifle a laugh as eight boxes of tissues are tossed into the cart.
by the time my cart is full, I'm exhausted, frustrated, and still looking for the darned frozen peas. ah yes, the guy-who-stocks-the-shelves-and-who-is-always-in-the-way-but-never-getting-anything-done-and-doesn't-speak-enough-English-to-be-helpful was blocking the frozen pea section.
i check my list one last time...oh i forgot the sugar. at least i know where that one is. i wheel my cart over to the baking section...what? the entire shelf is totally bare! people, get a grip! it's not pesach, you don't need to go overboard on the baking! sheesh (although reader will note, that apparently no sugar is a big deal, because i forgot to tell mother about it and i was driven out in the pouring rain to borrow some from a neighbor)
so i finally make it to the checkout counter, and to my luck, i get the aisle with the new cashier. he's feverishly pumping in the codes for the vegetables that the bagger is yelling at him (i check the screen, and BINGO! they were shallots! anyone who buys shallots has to be making one of Susie Fishbein's concoctions. before her cookbooks came out no one had ever heard of them) in the middle of waiting to pay for my groceries, one of the cashiers comes running up to the owner of the store
"Mr. N, it's crazy out there, there are no carts left!"
i can't suppress a smirk. he sees me and replies
"it's not funny! people are fighting for carts!"
he punches his friend in the shoulder, they both laugh, and he goes back to his lane.
by the time I've paid for my groceries, gotten my receipt, and loaded my cart, my nerves are so frazzled, that i can't even stop to think if the white haired man standing fourteen feet away is my great uncle. I'll have to wait till i see him on rosh hashana to say hi. i grab my cart and run for my car, dodging raindrops and fighting off desperate hockey mom-cum-pit bulls who would give a tube of lipstick for my cart.