Guy Shopping

A little more than a week into December finds us barreling head long into the Christmas Cacophony of site, sound and sales.

Everything is already 50% off, which, if you buy that—literally—it means you’re really only paying 200% over cost instead of 400%.

So good deal!

It used to be the price for a sweater was what it was before Christmas. Then, it became incrementally more the closer it got to the holiday itself when a lot of folks became desperate to buy last minute gifts for their wife, or their mistress, or their mom, or their therapist, which they need because they obviously have issues when it comes to women.

Or maybe that’s just me….

Not that I have a mistress, or a therapist, for that matter…but I am prone to the last minute Christmas gift.

And nowadays that’s really a plus, because with all the special “One Day Sales” every day, plus the discount I get for using a particular credit card, not to mention—although I am—the all-important, all day 40% off everything coupon…that much sought after Penguin sweater, with assorted blue birds on the back, can be had for under 10 bucks…and if the scratch off card I get at the checkout, comes up big, I can actually make a few bucks on the deal…and get lunch.

So things are different now…especially for guy shopping.

And to be honest, guy shopping is different from gal shopping.

You really don’t see a lot of guy shopping, most of the year.

Pretty much just around V-day, the assorted B-days, and of course Christmas.

So the sales clerks, at least the female sales clerks, seem to be particularly attentive, at least to guys.

And the more helpless and clueless the guy appears…the more “helpful” is the saleslady’s focus.

So, as you can guess…I garner a lot of helpful focus.

“Hi, how can I help you?” The saleslady says with a big, big smile.

At this point I try to resist the urge to make some sort of wisecrack remark about scratching the elusive itch in the middle of my back that’s been vexing me all day, and instead say I am looking for one of those metal things that women wear around their wrists, sometimes, that don’t involve telling time.

Depending on the sophistication of the saleslady’s sense and appreciation for subtle humor, she will either laugh and escort me to the bracelet showcase, or sneer and escort me to the security desk.

And believe me when I tell you…it can go either way.

But, for the most part, I’m pleased to say, there’s usually a laugh and a lot of smiles…and the security guards rarely use real handcuffs.

Ha…got you, didn’t I? 

But at least your sense and appreciation for subtle humor is well honed….

Right?

The truth is—and perhaps it’s an ugly truth—sales women are much more friendly and attentive to men than women.

Sounds sexist, I know…but hey, what can I tell you?

I don’t make this stuff up….

Well, maybe I do…but there is a grain of truth in most of what I make up.

I’ve seen the attention—polite, yet direct—that Z receives when she goes into a particular jewelry store.

Well, for the most part, I’ve seen it…as best I can from my seat on the synthetic leather couch, out in the hall, behind the palm tree, next to the fountain, in between bites of my giant pretzel—salt no butter.

However, when I walk in this tony trinket shop and trip over a baby stroller, I am immediately offered some bottled water and, if lucky, a lovely array of cookies.

I’m then offered a smoking jacket and slippers, which I refuse, since I don’t smoke, but happily accept the slippers.

Okay…I made all of that up.

There’s no smoking jacket or slippers…but sometimes there is the bottled water and cookies, because, you know…shopping can take a lot out of a fellow.

Then there is the helpful spiel and demonstration of how a bracelet actually works, which is followed by several recommendations based on style and price, which is followed by my hyperventilating, which is followed by my passing out on the floor.

At that point the smiling saleswoman usually suggests I try the "other" jewelry store around the corner, the one that also sells those cool black light posters and lava lamps.

Of course, I scoff at such nonsense, when proffered; I may be cheap, but I’m not that cheap. I can usually swing the jewelry that’s sold in the back of the Pet Store…outside, behind the dumpster.

And besides, I have all the black light posters I need.

Of course, I’m cool about the whole thing, and I don’t let on, not even a bit, that I’m at all embarrassed by the situation.

I bet lots of people confuse the ornamental soap dish with the cookie dish.

I mean I wasn’t even aware until I drank some of the water and my mouth started foaming.

But all in all, like I said, if you’re a guy shopper, you get treated just a little bit nicer than a woman shopper.

In fact, I’m usually escorted out by not only my original sales lady but 3 or 4 others, all smiling, all laughing…even as they lock the door behind me.

Obviously they stayed open a little past closing, just to accommodate me…which again…is not the kind of treatment your everyday woman shopper receives.

Certainly not before lunch....

________________________________________________

Looking for a fun, new Christmas Tradition to share with your family?

Pick up "The Little Red Christmas Ball"

Now available at Amazon

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And don't forget

“The Kingdom of Keys”

also available at Amazon

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The Sunday Archive of Retort - 12/9/11

Okay...well, this year's tree expedition is in the books...or more precisely...in the garage, where all newly shorn trees, in our house, are sent to work out their anger issues, before being allowed in the door.

Hey, you'd be angry too if someone came along and suddenly uprooted you from the only life you've ever known.

But it's the Holiday Season, so...bygones.

Plus, once the tree sees how glammed up it's getting—not to mention it's very own private Jacuzzi— the tree gets on board with the Holiday thing pretty quickly.

Hey, it's a tree...what choice does it have...now.

Anyway, since the decorating for this year's tree is still a day or two away...I thought you'd like to revisit this tale from 12/9/11:

 

The Tree is Up!

 

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That Time of Year Again!

In keeping with our list of mandated Holiday Traditions, I managed to get the outside lights and decorations up this week without breaking anything…on the house or me.

I’ve learned over the years that stepping back from the ladder to admire your work is not smart…at least until you’ve climbed back down.

So, now, in checking our list—twice—we’re off to buy our Christmas tree tomorrow.

I should say we’re off to scour the woods for and buy our Christmas tree tomorrow.

Well, not really woods…it’s more of a farm…of trees…located in the surrounding woods.

Accuracy is important…especially with lists…particularly Holiday Tradition lists.

Sometimes….

I’ve written about this, our annual tree pilgrimage into the Connecticut woods, in the past (“To the Woods!”), so I’ll skip all the atmospheric, holiday details since not a lot changes from year to year, other than the weather.

It’s one of those signature yearly outings that we still look forward to, and hopefully always will.

We enthusiastically awake, early in the morning, say, “We can’t believe it’s that time of year again, already”…check the weather to determine how many layers of woolies to put on or not put on…say, “We can’t believe it’s that time of year again, already”…gobble down a quick cup of coffee with maybe some cereal or a bagel… say, “We can’t believe it’s that time of year again, already”…dig through the shed in search of the large tree saw, which we use to cut down, you know…small trees… say, “We can’t believe it’s that time of year again, already”…jump into the car and…jump back out to run back into the house to retrieve the iPod that we  loaded up with festive Holiday tunes, the night before… say, “We can’t believe it’s that time of year again, already”…until finally, we hit the highway…or in this case the parkway—accuracy—where we say…“Damn, we can’t believe we forgot to get gas again, already".

What….you thought we would say something else?

Before long, after a short, festive inter-state jaunt, we’re pulling onto the farm, driving past a field of baby trees, just barely sprouting through the tall, yellowed grass and someone—not saying who— invariably make the same annual lame comment, “Look there’s our tree!”

To which we fall into a hysterical reverie followed by Z giving me that icy glare, I’ve come to know so well, that says… “Do you really have to make that same lame comment EVERY year?”

To which I reply…“I can’t believe it’s that time of year again…already!”

Which is the basis of all great holiday traditions.

Another of which is the togetherness that the annual tree hunt entails. These days, Z and I usually decide to forgo the hay ride up the hill, even if I were allowed on the wagon, again— tree farmers apparently have long memories—so we make the idyllic climb into the woods on foot, side by side.  

There, we begin an orderly search down row after row of balsamy jewels, in search, of course, for that one perfect tree destined to reside in our little living room, next to our spooky fireplace. It’s out there, we both know, and it’s just a matter of time before it finds us.

Like all things Zen, after a while, one must follow where the trees take one, so we’ll both drift off on our own journey, down this row of evergreens, up this hill and over Dale—who is usually passed out by the warming shack—again, never losing focus.

Of course this kind of intensity often results in “one’s” wandering onto the neighboring property, wondering why there are so many chickens on a tree farm, and why that fellow behind the tree is smiling like that?

Just friendly folk up this way, I guess.

But not to worry, “one” is never lost for long…not since I found Z’s cell phone number, written in lipstick on that waiters hand.  I can usually dial her up and track her down…eventually...once she picks up

And to be honest, that’s a good thing, for both of us. While Z is usually the one who finds the perfect tree, I’m the designated tree cutter, since Z also finds it unsavory to lie in the mud—and sometimes snow.


So again…it’s just goes to show how that whole togetherness/Yin-Yang thing, works out…especially during the holidays 

Soon, the tree is cut and hauled down the hill; the hot chocolates and semi-frozen donuts have been consumed; the big Ox has farted in our faces and before we know it, we find ourselves rolling down the parkway, again, back toward home, where we say,"We can’t believe it’s that time of year again, already”…and then we remember…we forgot to retrieve the tree from the tree wrapping area….

Gotta love Holiday Traditions! 

Believe it or not…..

________________________________________________

Looking for a fun, new Christmas Tradition to share with your family?

Pick up "The Little Red Christmas Ball"

Now available at Amazon

Click Here to Order

And don't forget

“The Kingdom of Keys”

also available at Amazon

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And while you're at it

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Nothing Doing

 

 

As usual, after a big holiday weekend, I have nothing to write about today.

So I guess I’ll just write about nothing.

Which, for me, isn’t far from the truth on most days.

And you would think after all the hub bub, there would be something…but there isn’t.

Just nothing.

Which is fine.

I can work with nothing.

Nothing is simple.

Nothing is easy.

Nothing is…well, nothing.

So, I don’t have a problem with nothing.

Except the poor grammar.

Nothing makes for a quiet day.

In fact, I could do nothing for a week, and not even break a sweat.

Well, I shouldn’t say that. 

Nothing is prone to complication…at least some of the time.

Like when nothing gets confused with anything.

You know?

Many times, if I’m doing nothing… I’m up for anything.

And that can get weird.

Because sometimes, if nothing matters…anything goes.

And then I have to find where it went.

And that can take a while.

So there goes nothing.

Mostly because, and I know I don’t have to tell you, searching for anything can definitely ruin a good day…especially if you’re trying to do nothing…at least, sometimes, if it’s something that seems somewhat important.

Of course, sometimes, nothing complicates anything…especially if it’s a weekend.

Now, I bet nothing has you confused too…unless sometimes, something else does.

Which is exactly the point.

You know?

Welcome to my world….

All I know is, I started out writing about nothing, and now, sometimes, anything feels like it can just jump into the middle of the whole thing…and sometimes, anything, can be hard to grasp.

You know…especially if nothing is involved.

Which can be something….

And that’s nothing to sneeze at.

Which brings us back to the beginning…even though it’s the end.

There’s nothing to write about today.

Which I just did…because, like I said, sometimes, anything goes.

One way or another.

But that’s a topic for some other day.

When I’m done doing nothing….

  

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The Sunday Archive of Retort - 11/30/11

So, now, the 1st of December isn't  covered with snow.

And neither is the turnpike from Stockbridge to Boston...which really is neither here nor there, since I have no intention of traveling...neither there nor here. 

And I'm putting up a post from the 30th of November, 2011...which just makes everything even more confusing.

But that's what the holiday's do to a person...or at least this person...which probably doesn't surprise you.

But I'm telling you....You better watch out. You better not cry. Better not pout. I'm telling you why:

Because "The Holiday Downhill Plunge" is about to begin....

Holiday Waves

They come in waves, these year-end holidays of ours.

First, the small ripple of Halloween breaks in October, followed by the growing swell that is Thanksgiving…until finally…well, we all know the tidal wave that comes after that.

It’s the holiday season, which at least to me, and I’m sure many of you, seems to wash over us faster and faster with each passing year.

I mean, what’s up with that?

Wasn’t it just yesterday I was sitting on the living room floor, in front of the fireplace, tearing through the giant Sears Wish Book Catalogue, picking out all my toys…or at least the ones I was wishing for?

Well, yeah…actually it was, or really more like yesterday afternoon…but that’s neither here nor there.

The point is, these holiday waves come upon us whether we’re ready for them or not.

And with each passing year—and really, now, it’s more like decades—I can’t help but notice, on every waning tide, the holiday table grows sparser and sparser, with more and more familiar faces gone.

Oh, I don’t mean we can’t still fill the table, but every time I look up it seems there’s another smile missing, another story left undone.

But I guess that’s how it goes with holiday waves, especially the ones that carry the people in our lives that matter most; each one breaks in its own way, in its own time.

We drop into this ocean as fresh young tots, the ocean, already populated, the waves, in motion and the seats at our holiday table filled and in place.

There are grandparents, and in some cases great-grandparents on the first wave.

Parents, Aunts, Uncles and close friends of same, behind that.

Older siblings and cousins, cresting and dipping on the wave before you.

And then the small stretch of sea that is barely a wrinkle on the surface, that is you.

Of course, back then, we took it all for granted; the expected familiarity, the calm, the ease, the continuity from one holiday to the next.

They become ingrained in our minds, in our hearts and in our souls.

Those memories and feelings that we always recall…that we best recall…whenever we need to recall something, anything, to keep us from lingering too long on the idea of those waves, forever rolling, carrying us toward the shore.

Before we know it, and much too quickly, we find ourselves on the front line of those determined waves, still a distance from the shore, but drifting closer, without buffer, as the decades behind us recede further and further into the past.

Now, we’re the ones, seated and in place as each new ocean ripple forms into a new found wave of its own, pushing us, as we once pushed ourselves.

Now, we’re those comforting faces, the continuity and the foundation, of their memories, later to be recalled.

Sure, waves will always roll unceasingly towards the shore; but with each new passing tide, family and tradition rides along with them, gently passing back, from the first wave to the last.

Sitting at the holiday table these days, I see new faces, replacing old.

But the old faces, they’re never really gone.

Just as the wave breaks, then folds back into the sea, so do those faces return to us with every holiday table set, with every holiday tradition met.

So this Thanksgiving, light a candle in your mind, in your heart and in your soul, for all those missing smiles…and all those empty places will once again be filled…from one wave to the next…over and over again….

And have a happy Thanksgiving.

________________________________________________

Looking for a fun, new Christmas Tradition to share with your family?

Pick up "The Little Red Christmas Ball"

Now available at Amazon

Click Here to Order

And don't forget

“The Kingdom of Keys”

also available at Amazon

Click Here to Order 

And while you're at it

Like" the Retorts on Facebook 

Follow @FreelanceRetort on Twitter   

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