Monday, June 11, 2007

The More Things Change....




the more they you know what, dear reader. Especially at H-H-okay, okay, I'll say it. Hannaford's. No one can find anything there any more. AND YES I STILL SHOP THERE AND NO I HAVE NO EXCUSE AND YES I SHOULD BE TAKEN OUTSIDE AND SHOT.


This is the top of my shopping cart at Hudson Hannaford's, taken this past Saturday, and it virtually never changes. See the grapes on the right? They turned out to have been excellent this week (they don't always). The black straps are to my very cool Kate Spade handbag, a most excellent Christmas gift from my daughter.




Plastic bag of broccoli on the left, another necessity, along with the bottle of Paul Newman's raspberry walnut vinagrette leaning over to the left. I buy the same things every week. Although I walked out this time without deli ham because the new store layout has it in a different place and I forgot it.




I chatted with a woman in line and we both shook our heads. Why do we shop here, I said, and she had no answer for me. It's getting to be an existential question. And now as promised:


WAYS THAT I AM KEEPING UP WITH THE CULTURE






Please note I did not say "keeping up with the times," which is an incredibly old-fashioned thing to say.


1) computer use. Actually, all but the most resolute Luddites are using computers now. There is one guy at my work who says he does not, or he said it a couple of years ago. I figure even he must have given in. I'm afraid of him, so I can't really ask. [see former posts about Becky's invisibility at work]


2) proper slang. I know how to say "what up?" and other such rapper/cool utterances. My kids in class die laughing, of course. I know how to give a "high five." That right there sets me apart from some matrons.


3)I know who the Red Hot Chili Peppers are. This happened in the last year. I actually took a break from popular music, a break that lasted about ten years. I just wasn't interested. But that changed and now I know most of the groups and most of the hits. I used to be a big Sports Radio listener, but then I got tired of the "fellowship of the miserable," as Rick Pitino called it. all the callers say the same thing: "Ray Bourque. What can you say about Ray Bourque? This is a guy who...." WHATEVER. I'M GONE.


4) flat iron. I know how to use one on my hair and if the planets align correctly, it will work. I still can't quite get the hang of a dryer in one hand and a brush in the other, though. I tend to blow the shit out of my hair so I look like I've come through the Dust Bowl. That's why the flat iron helps.

5) fashion choices. I'm not a fuddy duddy, like some in my age group. HEADED FOR ALFRED DUNNER is a possible book title that only some women will appreciate, but those who do will laugh.
RECENT READS:
SOMETHING BORROWED by Emily Giffin about a girl who sleeps with her best friend's fiance. I thought it would be predictable, but it wasn't.
THE RUM DIARY, Hunter Thompson's first book and decidedly foreshadowing of FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS, one of the best books ever written. Not as outrageous, though, but plenty to think about as always.
Off to Boston tomorrow to sightsee and go to my friend Hank P. Ryan's book launch.
But tonight I am totally psyched for BIG LOVE on HBO.
A bientot
love,
becky

2 Comments:

At 7:03 AM , Blogger chiefbiscuit said...

I am a hairdryer woman myself ...
I have been able to keep up with the 21st century music groups because of sons still around and playing their stuff loud enuff so that I can't ignore it - some of it is damn good too. And I even know what EMOs are! And I give high fives too at appropriate times (and say 'what's down with that?' or whatever - I usually end up making people under thirty laugh when I do that tho') So I go to some lengths to prove I'm not a fuddy duddy heading for .... in my case ... Arthur Barnetts! ;)

 
At 7:21 AM , Blogger beckymotew said...

I wonder if we have Arthur Barnetts here, CB. That's when you know you're sliding on the slippery slope, when your taste starts to run there. I can tell yours does NOT.

b

 

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