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The Husband was brave (read: bored) enough to come to The Grocery Store with me. This only happens if A) He's suffering from the aforementioned boredom. B) He wants bad cereal like Cookie Crisp. Or C) He likes to know what kind of load he's going to have to cart up the stairs. Normally I come home and yell, "Stellla.... Stelllllaaaaaa", which is his signal to come down and yard bulging bags of food up the stairs so I don't have to. So these little trips are what he calls Food ReCon.

The thing about going to The Grocery Store with me, or any place in public, really, is that he runs the risk that my behavior may - at any point - become slighty erratic and embarassing for him. He's a trooper, really. A kind man who's become adept at saying, "Geeze, I feel bad for the poor bastard married to that crazy lady..."

So it was pretty late, and the music on the intercom reflected the casual vibe of The Grocery Store at that time of the night. Ike and Tina Turner's Proud Mary was playing and you could see people all over the store tapping their feet and humming along. I, of course, became determined to master my skills at being Miss Tina's back up dancer, much to The Husband's chagrin.

It's no secret to anyone I know that dancing isn't really my thing. A cocktail or two definitely helps the groove. But even then it's best that those around me have 3 or 4 cocktails as to be too inebriated to notice just how bad my moves are. So stone cold sober in The Grocery Store really doesn't have any potential. But I, in my eternal optimism, am always determined to get it right. (No wisecracks about the eternal optimism, damnit)

Anyway, so...

It started innocently enough in the chip and cracker aisle with a few arm rolls and hip shakes. I thought I had a pretty good groove going as I was reaching for the Rye Krisp. The Husband sighed and said, "I'm going to the fish counter."

I continuted to boogy-woo my way through Canned Goods and Snacks when I found myself in Dried Foods. And it so happens that Dried Foods leads directly to the fish counter. So I'm rollin' on the river when a little footwork trickery sent my sandal sailing from my foot and down the aisle. The sandals I had on have a really slick sole so it flailed down the aisle like that big puck thingy in a Curling game.

It came to rest right behind The Husband and The Man tanding next to him. The Husband picked up the shoe and shook his head at me. And after a little chat, the man next to him patted him on the shoulder and was on his way.

"What was that chat about?", I asked, while I grabbed the sandal.

"He asked me if I knew you."

"I did. And if you don't straighten up, I am taking you back there before curfew."

Hmpfh.

Posted by Foodwhore at September 8, 2005 03:38 PM

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