To Market. To Market

My husband went and did the grocery shopping for Christmas dinner yesterday. This morning, as I looked in the fridge, I realized that he had forgotten we'd need to eat some meals in the thirty-six hours or so before that meal, so I ended up braving the grocery store today. Not too bad for Christmas Eve. It'll probably reach a state of crisis there sometime after noon, I expect. 

Guess what went missing at the market?

Yes, the Hostess Fruitcake display is gone. There is no way on Earth that those things sold in the last few days, so I'm working on some conspiracy theories as to their whereabouts. My most plausible explanations are that the store manager is giving them to the employees as holiday gifts or that they've crumbled them up and put them in whipped cream and are selling them in the deli as a perverse "salad" of sorts. (I did have a coworker a few years back who brought a "salad" to the office potluck. Its ingredients: Snicker bars, pretzels, granny smith apples, and Cool Whip. So, my theory is not without precedent.) 

Aside from my chagrin at missing out on one last opportunity to take a picture of the fruitcakes on the sly, my trip to the store was rewarding, mostly due to the efforts of the bag boy in the checkout aisle next to mine. If he actually was sixteen, it was just barely, and he had that wonderfully-awkward quality about him. His clothes were a little too big, his hair was hanging in his eyes, and, if he has been shaving, it's just been practice - going through the motions until the actual whiskers arrive. Part of his job, along with remembering not to put the canned corn on top of the bread, was to tell people to have a nice day and wish them a happy holiday. 

From my vantage point in line, I could see him building up the courage to speak to each customer after packing their groceries. He'd wind up before each pitch by pursing his lips together and blinking a few times. Then he'd say it: "Have a nice day. Merry Christmas!" A look of relief and accomplishment would spread across his face. I did it! Big grin. Subtle twitch in the right hand signifying Yes! 

I loved watching this young man's confidence build each time he managed to talk to total strangers and not die from embarrassment. I had gone to the store thinking, Oh, crap. I don't want to stand in line on Christmas Eve. If I hadn't gone, though, I would have missed this little show entirely. And the sale on meatballs, of course.