This plastic bag receptacle reminiscent of a Claus Oldenberg soda can is the newest improvement at the Windsor Terrace Key Food. I'm so glad to have a place in the neighborhood to recycle my plastic bags, it's giving me an intense whiff of suburban convenience I'm not accustomed to getting here. Of course, I know I need to keep trying to avoid relying on the bags but I usually flake out and completely forget to bring cloth bags when I go shopping. Still. I still do that. Old dogs...
Not so many people sit out on their stoops so part of what appeals to me about shopping there is getting a sense of the people from the neighborhood. Not just the ones that have kids who I see at the park but all of them. The young adults getting their first jobs, the older people who live in the neighborhood. People who were born and raised around here who a transplant like me doesn't easily get to know.
And then there's all the odd encounters that I've witnessed there, including what happened tonight when my daughter noticed a guy on line behind us waiting to buy a roast chicken. She saw him and started pointing, saying over and over again in her loudest voice "That man looks like my daddy!" I was very embarrassed and the guy with the chicken, who did look like her daddy, gave me a bashful glance. What do you say in a situation like that?
Years ago I heard some people who work there insulting each other over the intercom, which was sort of entertaining. And then I easily recall the two times I managed to buy a pound bag of sugar that was open enough to leave a trail of sugar around the store. Watch those sugar bags!
No one ever got mad at me for that, even when I turned myself in. I'm glad for the calm, orderly, more reliable way it is now. Some of the people that work there I've been seeing for so long I had unconsciously given them names without realizing it. But I've finally learned that the one I thought was Maria is actually Gladys, the one who I thought was Betty is really Jane, the friendly manager bears the unforgettable name of Micheal Jordan, and the one who I thought was the Mona Lisa is really named Marcina.
2 comments:
You must be so quick when you take these pictures because I never catch you! Haha Great post! Just a couple of corrections, I think you meant Betty was Joan because we don't have a Jane and our friendly manager is actually Mike Jording. My name is Mersina, but it's okay nobody ever spells it correctly. I also just wanted to point out that this was posted exactly one year to the date of your Mona Lisa post.
Great blog...you're always so observant!
Thanks for pointing that out, Mona Lisa, I had no idea!
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