Tuesday, April 12, 2011


Click here, then read.

Like everyone else, I get busy, and sometimes I run out of food. Unable to keep pretending that raisins count as fresh fruit and olives are vegetables, this morning I finally went shopping at the local health food store.

As I happily placed my favorites into the cart—apples, blueberries, pears…broccoli, asparagus, tomatoes—a huge black man with a big fuzzy beard approached me, pushing his own cart full of packaged chicken. “You look like you work out,” he said. I cooed and preened on the inside. My eyelashes batted themselves. “I want to lose weight,” this 500-pound man told me. “What should I eat?”

“I’ve pretty much cut out pasta,” I replied. “No bread, no rice, no cereal either—not much anyway.”

“I already cut out the whites!” he boomed.

I’m glad he said that and not me, man.

“Do you eat organic?” he yelled.

“No,” I said. Instantly, every shopper standing within a ten foot radius stopped and stared at me. Heathen. Of course the guy asked me why not.

“I just wash everything,” I lied. I wasn’t going to tell him I enjoy the wax on apples, or that I feel germs and pesticides build up my immune system.

Thankfully another lady then approached me to get me off this hook. “There is a woman around the corner husking corn!” she whispered. I leaned in closer to listen. “I think she has Alzheimer’s! She doesn’t understand that it makes the corn unusable for other people!”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that—did she want me to conduct a citizen’s arrest on the Alzheimer’s patient? Did I look like that type? Before I could say anything, the lady limped off towards the corn display—a tiny lady with a hunchback, like me—and started husking. She was the one with Alzheimer’s! Those crafty devils.

Finally I headed over to the bulk bins to get my steel cut oats—which I tell myself is not really a white, but more like a biracial. I raised the bin lid and lost my grip on it immediately; it fell onto my spindly and malfunctioning hands, which have not yet recovered from the rain we had a few days ago. “Dang-ay!” I said, from the pain. “Godday….” Apparently the twin-speak that Jodi Foster spout forth with in Nell has burrowed into my brain a little deeper than I realized. Not that I swear a lot anyway.

A worker guy heard my gibberish and stepped over to help, cleverly propping the lid open with a scoop. “I’ve worked here for a year, so at least I know somethin’,” he said.

Hanging around this place, I bet he knew a lot more than that.


  1. This has got to be my favorite of your posts. :-) I was with you all the way, and actually LOLed (and I'm not just saying that!) at the Nell reference.

    Good one, Kate!


  2. "Those crafty devils." My favorite line of this one, very funny.

  3. Hilarious post! I love it. I'll be singing that song all day, by the way!