Who was your first Valentine?  Maybe a boy in your sixth grade math class?  Or was it a girl in high school that you ogled over every time you saw her in the library?  We all remember our first Valentine; that wonderful person who made February 14th a special day.

February 14th started off like any other morning. I woke up in a room with bright lemon yellow walls and lime green shag carpeting.  Blurry-eyed, I staggered out of my bedroom.  Albeit you would think the shock of waking up in a bedroom taken from highlighter colors would be enough to wake anyone up, but it wasn’t enough for me; I’m not a morning person.

After a “pit-stop” to the room that we all first visit in the morning (oh come on, you know what I mean), I would go down the hall to the kitchen where my Valentine’s Day would begin.  There he was waiting for me, my first Valentine.  I didn’t get candy or flowers but I got something better, a big hug and kiss.  

He had breakfast waiting for me, a big bowl of magically delicious Lucky Charms, complete with the pinkish-red hearts, perfect for Valentine’s Day.  And who says that guys are not thoughtful??  

Next to my cereal bowl were cards from my Mom and brother (Mom made him give me one).  Off to the side there was another card, a card with a crown embossed on the envelope.  My Valentine cared enough to send the very best.  This was a cute card, pictures of teddy bears, duckies, or giraffes.  There was a sense of excitement about opening this card, why I don’t know.  Year after year, it was a card with a page to tear off and color.  Year after year, I’d open up that envelope . . . please let it be . . . please let it be . . . a page of stickers to plaster over my school notebooks, or a card with paper dolls to punch out and play with.  Oh well, another coloring page.  It really didn’t matter what the card looked like, it was the thought that counted.  A Valentine from my Daddy.  

In case you are living under a rock, or haven’t been to a store lately, this Saturday is Valentine’s Day.  That special day when Hallmark reminds us to think about those whom we love.  Family, friends, or even the dog, it’s a day to remember those who we hold close to our heart.

This Saturday morning, Monkey will leap out of bed, okay, more like stagger since she’s not a morning person either.  After making her “pit-stop”, she’ll wander into the kitchen.  Waiting for her will be her first Valentine, Silverback Gorilla, ready to give her a big hug and kiss.  

As I munch on my gift of chocolates, or stare at sparkly jewelry (hint to Silverback Gorilla), Monkey will sit at the table where a cereal bowl will be on her placemat.  Next to her bowl, a card with a crown embossed onto the flap of the envelope.  What kind of card will she open from Silverback Gorilla?  Will there be a teddy bear on it?  A giraffe?  Maybe a monkey?  Will it have a page to tear off and color or will she get stickers for her notebook?  Valentine’s Day will bring the answer.

Now I just need to remember to go to the grocery store and buy a box of magically delicious Lucky Charms.      

Happy Valentine’s Day!

A short and ugly haircut, nerdy glasses, and a retainer.  The retainer – that piece of pink plastic with metal wires that firmly fit around your teeth.  That is, until you learned the trick of popping it out with your tongue.  That piece of pink plastic that you wore to help your teeth stay aligned.  At least, that ‘s what I think its purpose is; after all, I am not a dentist. 

I feel like I’m twelve again.  Okay, minus the bad haircut and nerdy glasses; that leaves the retainer.  Yesterday I went to the dentist to pick up my new retainer.  Yes, at forty-uh, forty-something, I once again have a retainer. 

For a brief moment as I was driving to the dentist, I had a flashback.  I was walking up the stairs to the second floor offices at Bayshore where I saw the orthodontist.  It was there that sadistic tools were used to tighten the wires that were attached to metal pieces cemented to my teeth.  These wires and pieces of metal were used to straighten my Bugs Bunny-like teeth.  After the painful torture of braces was over, I graduated to the retainer.   

Snap out of it Pam, it was only a dream.  There would be no wires or torture tools.  I’m going to get a piece of plastic for my mouth.  

As I sat in the dentist’s chair, he explained that this retainer would help to prevent further shifting of my teeth.  Shifting that has taken place over the past so many years due to age and teeth grinding from stress.  What stress?????? 

He said that he had a blue box for me.  A blue box!  Of course my mind goes to thoughts of a Tiffany’s blue box.  I’ve never seen sterling silver retainers at Tiffany; but maybe, just maybe, my dentist convinced Tiffany to make one for me . . .  uhhhh . . . doubtful.  

So much for the thought of a sterling silver retainer in a blue box.  I was handed a royal blue plastic box.  I opened it up and surprise!  Gone was the pink plastic with metal wires that fit around my teeth.  Inside I found a piece of white plastic molded to fit my bottom teeth.  The dentist put it in my mouth to see how it fit. 

Flashback again.  That torture feeling came back.  It was too tight.  It hurt.  There was pressure on my teeth that I haven’t felt since I was twelve.  Snap out of it Pam.  It’s supposed to be that tight fitting.  I guess there is no purpose in a loose retainer. 

I was told to practice taking it out.  Instinctively I stuck my tongue underneath the retainer to pop it out.  Some habits never die.  It didn’t come out.  The tongue IS the retainer popper-outer.  I know its been years, but this is like riding a bike.  You just remember how to do it; tongue underneath, pop it up and out it comes.   How could this be?

Apparently dentists caught onto to the tricks of twelve year-olds.  These molded retainers don’t pop out the old-fashioned way. 

Wait, did I just say “old-fashioned”?  Yikes, I’m old!  I’m an old person with the mouth of a twelve year-old.   
 

Two ninety-nine     Beep

One forty-nine       Beep

Six eighty-nine      Beep
 
Please remove unauthorized item from the bagging area.

What the heck?

Is some computer generated female voice yelling at me?  How dare she tell me that I cannot even put my purse down to find my wallet that has inevitably sunk to the bottom of my purse.  I need to put the purse down to get the wallet, to pay for the “authorized” items that are in the bagging area.

Like I said, what the heck?

Please understand that I have nothing against grocery baggers and cashiers.  They are hard working people supporting a family and paying for school; very admirable.  I do have to tell you that I am not really interested in making a career move to become a grocery store bagger or cashier.  But sadly, I think we are all headed down this career path.

My grocery store of choice is the one in Mequon with the sturdy red bags; heavy duty bags that can be re-used.  You know, the store with the great produce, beautiful meats, and specialty brands.  But more importantly, they have friendly checkout people who scan and bag my groceries.   Furthermore, they even offer to wheel out the shopping cart and put the groceries in my car.

When I do need to pick up something in a hurry, I do stay closer to home.  I go to a store, which is a part of a large grocery store chain in Milwaukee.   You know, the one that began as a place that looked more like a warehouse than a grocery store, the one that now has upscaled to call some of their stores “markets”.  I don’t care what they call themselves or how much they upscale; the fact is, they are not a “red bag” store.  Why?

It’s more than the fact that they have flimsy white bags; bags that when more than a couple of items are put in, break.   At best, these flimsy bags can be called “@#$%”, which frankly is what their limited re-use is; to pick up after my dog.   That is, if the flimsy white plastic is not punctured.

But it’s more than just the bags.  It started years ago, when I went to a “white bag” store and found that I had to bag my own groceries.  You mean to tell me that they cannot even have someone bag them for me?  Let’s see, while I’m unloading the cart, I’m also supposed to be on the other end, bagging the items.  Okay, this works if Silverback Gorilla is at one end and I’m at the other but what if I’m there by myself?  Lucky I am, if I do get some snarly person to help bag.  Otherwise, I wind up bouncing back and forth – unload and bag, unload and bag; well you get it.  Is this the best system?  Probably not.  Hire baggers!  Oh yes, and make sure they are friendly, like at the “red bag” store.

Recently, shoppers at the “white bag” store have begun to move up in the hierarchy of grocery store employees.   Not only do we now get to bag our own groceries, we now have the privilege of scanning them too.   Oh sure, the “white bag” store still has traditional cashiers but since they took out some checkout lanes to make room for self-checkout, the “real” checkout lane lines are very long.  Standing there with four or five items, I’m not about to wait for three people ahead of me with carts full of groceries to check out.  For a quick exit, I’m forced to use the self-checkout.

I scan my items under the watchful eyes of employees who man the self-checkout area.  If this is a cost savings issue for the grocery store, frankly, I’m scratching my head in wonderment.  They are paying people to stand around to make sure that there are no “unauthorized” items in the bagging area (i.e. making sure that I pay for everything) but these same people could be actually scanning my groceries in a traditional checkout lane.  In reality, we are paying the salaries of people to stand around and watch us do their jobs!  Since I am doing their job, where is my discount on groceries?

Occasionally, convenience forces me to still patronize the “white bag” store.  Just remind me to ask for the employee discount when I scan and bag my items.      

“Red bag” store, you are still my favorite.  Please don’t change your bags and please don’t install those checkout devices that yell at me for putting my purse in the bagging area.

“White bag” store - beep this!