Self-Serving Self-Service
I have a Pavlovian response to the words, "We need to go shopping this weekend," despite the fact that around our house those words don't mean what they are supposed to mean. When Jeff utters them, he's talking groceries.
That's not shopping!! I've told him this repeatedly but he doesn't seem to understand. Shopping is a day spent at La Cantera, a break for a salad and an iced tea at Nordstrom's Bistro, a little more shopping, maybe some browsing in the Apple store, and finally a delightful cup of gelato to round out a soothing, productive day.
I had to reblog this, I read it twice and I still don't think I could say it better. Love reading her blogs, hop on over and take a gander ...
My comment to her blog: LOL I totally relate – I hate the self checkout it never works for me. And to the days of having a person pump your gas! I remember [ yup hear we go with the old geezer tale ] back in my day! hehe ;) When I first got my DL I lived in CA, there was an old Texaco right off of I-5 in downtown Stockton that these two old [ maybe 3 ] gents operated. They had been there for years, photos covering the walls of them starting shop, the cars changing from old style 50s, they were incredible, and whenever I pulled my Dad’s old 1970 Monte Carlo in to fill up on the Texaco card, I was invited in to sit on the stool while they filled ‘er up and I got to chew on a red vine or have a soda. This was 1988. It feels like forevor ago. I miss those times. Now I know how my G-ma felt and she remembers the joys of milk delivery and people who made appointments to repair your TV and showed up on TIME at your house even.
Posted on April 25, 2012, in Fun?Finds, Random Thought and tagged 7000 Words, Reblog. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.
Yes the good old days, when I was a kid even your doctor made house calls, when you did go to an appointment (in most small towns any way) his office was an add on to his home. A friendly front sitting area and the actual office. Yes, the good old days. Milk was delivered daily, empty bottles picked (that was real recycling). I am not old enough to remember a real “ice ches refer”, but we did have a wood burning stove in the kithen that was later converted to gas. And we had a coal bin in the cellar that Dad shoveled coal from to heat the house. We later converted the coal stove to gas and had a floor heater in the main room on the first floor. My sister Donna and I used to stand on the heater with our slippers and let the warm air fill up our night gowns/bathrobes before scampering up to the cold unheated 2nd floor to sleep under tons of quilts. All our shoes had the criss cross marks from the hot grate <> Brrrrhhhh, good times hehehehehe!