The Place for Baby Boomers to Share Memories
By Larry Teren
The knock on my door came with authority. I had just put away the groceries having returned from the fancy supermarket. You know- the one with the newfangled self-checkout machines.
I answered from inside the apartment while looking through the peephole. There were two guys in the hallway. One shouted, “open up- it’s the police!”
Continue reading “The Red Pepper Caper”
My “crawling under a rock†moment happened yesterday at a big supermarket chain store- you know, the type big enough to have self-checkout machines.
It started with a typical walk through the aisles making note of items on sale. I’d compare them in my head to what the normal price was as well as what it typically sold for at competing stores. I thought I was done picking up all the things I both needed and wanted. But, I couldn’t leave well enough alone. Like the proverbial pregnant woman, I had a yen for pickles, even though last I looked I was of the male persuasion and nowhere close to needing maternity clothes.
It became too convenient as the aisle I traipsed through contained condiments such as peanut butter, jelly, mustard, honey and, yeah- pickles. There they were- several different brands. My eye (the good one) immediately caught sight of one on sale at 2 for $5.00, which was a real bargain. Normal price would have been anywhere between $3.29 to $3.49. I grabbed a jar even though it was glass, knowing well my propensity to not grasp things so well anymore in my right hand. That’s what that damn carpal tunnel does to you. From my wrist to the tip of my fingers, it is a constant feeling of needle pins, the same sensation when you bump your elbow funny bone. Not only the out-of-body sensation, but there is a loss of sensitivity to touch.
Continue reading “Crawling Under a Rock”