I hate shopping at Wal-Mart. I do because it’s the closest store to my house, and it doesn’t make sense to me to drive a mile or more to the next nearest grocery store when Wal-Mart is in walking distance. Not that I walk. It’s at the bottom of a hill, dammit, and I know I could make it there okay, I’m just not sure I could make it back carrying groceries.
I also have the biggest case of pyrophobia of anyone I know. Any fire bigger than a candle flame terrifies me. I can handle campfires and fires in a fireplace (especially if they are gas log) but bonfires? Fuggitaboutit. I know it all came about as a result of the requisite field trip to the firehouse that I took in kindergarten. It also didn’t help that in the next few years the mountains around my house burned.
So, has anyone put together what happened when I was grocery shopping at Wal-Mart today?
I was proud of myself for getting there in the morning, but cursing that I waited so long. I found a good parking spot, and spent 45 minutes carefully comparing prices and choosing what I needed. Then, on they way up to the check-stand, I overheard the chatter on the employee’s radio saying there was a fire, and the store had to be evacuated. Crap. No, actually, shit.
A few moments later, the PA called a code red, and said that all the employees had to come to the front of the store. About five seconds after that, a guy who sounded like he was about 17 came over the PA announcing a “small emergency, please abandon your baskets and exit the store.”
I was proud of my composure as I made my way to my amazing parking spot, and headed out of the store. I figured maybe it wasn’t a fire when the first emergency vehicle on the scene was an ambulance–maybe someone had gotten hurt (I was actually rooting for someone to have gotten hurt rather than there being a fire–does that make me a bad person?) My composure was then shattered when a firetruck, sirens blaring and lights flashing came speeding by–and honked when it was parallel to my car. I’m still shaking–and fighting back tears.
I let you know if I find out anything more about the fire. Hopefully, it was small, and they’ll be able to open the store again soon–but the number of sirens that I’ve heard heading toward Wal-Mart kind of point against that.
Okay, I’m off to see if I can calm down now. Wish me luck.
Well, now I feel dumb.
According to the Daily Herald, something burnt in an oven, causing smoke. The evacuation was per store policy.
When I was at Wal-Mart the other night, I saw a couple of women wearing burqas, each leading a flock of kids. Okay, so the garment in question wasn’t exactly a burqa, I’m not exactly sure what to call it. It was like a headscarf with a veil across the woman’s faces, and it covered their chests and down to their torsos. I could see that they were wearing tunics and loose trousers underneath–and a burqa is from head to toe.
I saw these women from the back in the parking lot. My first thought was annoyance–their kids were between the ages of 10 and 3, and they were at Wal-Mart at 11pm on a school night. I’d seen headscarves at Wal-Mart before, and didn’t think anything of the moms–except that they had their kids out at what I thought was way too late.
It wasn’t until I saw them in the store, and saw what they were wearing that the reason for having the kids out so late became clear to me. They were at Wal-Mart as late as I was for probably the same reason I was–to avoid the crowds.
There weren’t many people there, but I saw these women getting glared at. I think I had a different take on how they were dressed than anyone else in the store. I kept thinking about how genius their garments were.
I was there as my mood was starting to head south, and I was feeling shy and withdrawn–and I was slightly jealous of these women’s clothes. You wouldn’t have to do your hair or makeup before going out (not that I do anyway) and people might stare at you, but they would just see your clothes, not YOU.
Honestly, I don’t have a problem with burqas or headscarves or anything similar. In fact, I applaud women who are devoted enough to their religion to wear such outward signs, especially in a time and a place when such garments are frowned upon by the general public.
And I want to know where I could buy one.
I went shopping at Wal-Mart the other day. Don’t judge me! It’s the closest place to my house to buy food! Actually, no, the closest place to my house were I can buy food is the Krispy Kreme Doughnut shop. And while Krispy Kreme is delicious, you can only eat like 10 of them before you get sick to your stomach (not that I know from personal experience. Um, yeah.) so they’d be kinda hard to live on.
Anyway, while I was shopping, I spotted something I hadn’t seen in perhaps 12 years–the stereotypical Mormon mom.
A quick note. I love the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Not only am I a lifelong member, I actually made a conscious decision regarding my membership. The gospel of Jesus Christ as revealed by Joseph Smith has kept me sane–well, sane-ish, and literally alive. You will never hear me mock the church, its doctrine, or its leaders.
Mormon culture on the other hand, especially Utah Mormon culture, the crazy stuff we Mormons do that either has no relation to the gospel, or is only marginally connected, deserves to be mocked and I do so at every opportunity.
Anyway, back to this woman. I recognized her for who she was right away. She had the biggest bangs I’ve seen in over a decade, and the rest of her hair was pulled back into a tight French braid. In fact, after spotting her hair, I had to look twice to make sure she wasn’t a polygamist. (She wasn’t. Her clothes were boughten, and involved slacks.) She spoke in a sweet, soft voice, and led a flock of children with names like Brigham, Eliza and Nephi. Just looking at her, you knew that she made the best cookies on the block.
I spotted her, unsurprisingly, in the bakeware isle. I immediately made a detour from my planned shopping route to examine her more closely. I pulled my phone out and pretended to text, in hopes that I could get a picture, but Abinadi spotted me eying his mom, and kept giving me the stink eye.
Seeing how it’s New Years Eve, I should probably post a list of resolutions and/or a retrospective of the year and/or decade, but we’re all sick of that, right?
For me, 2009 can be boiled down to: I lost my job, and have spent the last 6 months looking for a new one. I gained a nephew, E. I fell in love with a man that I have no access to, and decided that being feminine isn’t as stupid as I previously though. I changed anti-depressants, and the world suddenly isn’t as bleak a place as all that, except when I can’t sleep.
As for resolutions, I don’t believe in them. Rather, I believe that people make them, and give them an honest effort–for about 6 weeks. I just don’t bother anymore.
I hope everybody has big, fun plans for tonight. Personally, I plan on staying home and peeling a little dog off my face after she hears fireworks, and yelling at the other little dog when he barks at the revelry outside.
Anyway, here’s hoping that 2010 is better than 2009 was, and that the ’10s will be better than the ’00s. It can’t really be worse can it? Can it?