on the drive into work today, my mom made the request that i stop at a local specialty grocery store and pick up some Yams for Grandpa. He just loves them, and apparently, they are hard to find… but it would be so nice to make him some for Thanksgiving, instead of the requisite Sweet Potato.
no problem. Anything for Mom, and Anything for Grandpa, really.
so i take the slightest of detours and head into the grocer’s…
i feel like i have stepped back into time. a time closer to 1950 than 2010.
this is one of those stores that has been in the same spot since probably 1950. it specializes in fresh-cut meat, niche food items and tiny carts. it’s your neighborhood store, bordering on gourmet and has an air of shaking its fist, politely but firmly, at the Big Box Stores that permeate this growing community.
i, for one, am confused as to how they can charge upwards of $4 for a Lean Cuisine and still not have the gumption to update their store… like i said – it seriously feels like its 1950 in there. I felt bad that i forgot to wear my pearls and crinoline.
okay, back to the Yams. the nice boy at the check stand pointed me to the back corner of the store.
mind you, Mom gave me the stern reminder NOT to buy sweet potatoes, as we have both learned the hard way, they simply will not suffice.
i find the section of both sweet potatoes and yams… with the signs placed precariously close together. yes, i could see that the sweet potatoes on the left were orangier… and the yams on the right were more browny-yellowish. but, in an effort to please Grandpa immensely – i thought, you know, it doesn’t hurt to ask.
i spin around, and wouldn’t you know it – there’s a sweet older gentleman sorting garlic. By wearing a green apron, i took a wild guess that he worked there. so i said, “I am on a mission to buy Yams, and just want to make sure that these are, in fact, yams.”
from this point forward, i will retract my “Sweet” assessment of this man… i will even remove “gentle” from his title.
“the sign says Yams right there.” and he proceeds to walk over to the display and shove the sign to the right so it is now squarely below the yams, and no longer touching the sign displaying Sweet Potatoes…..
i start to say, “Well, yes, but I…” but i quickly realize that he doesn’t care. he has already categorized me as
stupid, dumb, incompetent, well… something.
he then says, “will you need a sack?”
and i say, “Yes, please.” and then i see the roll of plastic sacks, so i start to help myself – because why would i want to inconvenience him more?
to which he says, “oh, those YAMS will rip right through plastic. Let me get you a paper sack.”
(sigh)… “Why, Thank you!”… kill ’em with kindness, right?
uggh– i then proceed to fill up the small paper sack with six+ pounds of yams, for my sweet and wonderful Grandpa! and then i make my walk to the check out…
of course, kindly smiling and thanking Senor Sassy on my way out.
moral of this story: no matter what, I am thankful for my Grandpa, and my Mom, and the wonderful Yams we will be serving this Thanksgiving.