At Whole Foods last night, I wanted to get some chowder for a family member who was working late in SF. Alas, there was none to be had. There was shrimp bisque, crab and corn chowder, northwestern chowder, cioppino and a Thai soup. As I was pondering the matter, a customer walked briskly up. He checked the contents of each pot, letting the lids fall with a loud bang. He picked the cioppino.

The family member makes a very excellent cioppino of his own, and as I was debating whether to just forget the soup, another gentleman stepped up. He headed straight for the cioppino.

I got the small container. Then I headed for the ice cream section where, after much deliberation, I chose Rice Dream marble fudge, Ciao Bella mango sorbet and a dark cherry soy ice cream. More on these another time.

Turned out that the family member ate duck and fig handmade sausages in SF. He was still talking about those sausages during dinner tonight.

The bear collection was vast and highly priced. After much picking through, I found two with no trademarks or logos. The stock agencies where I sell photos are strict about such things, and one will only take the images where the bears are facing away from the camera.

I passed up the quilts, which would have made great backgrounds. Then I got in line to pay. The woman took one look at the bigger bear.

Seller: That can’t be the right price.
Me: That was how I found it on that sofa over there with the quilts.
Seller: And look, the tag is on upside down. We wouldn’t do that.
Me: Silence
Seller: I mean, I can’t believe that bear would go for $15.
Me (not really wanting to pay that much for a used bear anyway): Silence
Seller: Let me ask (indicates other seller) him what he really wanted for this bear.
Me: You are holding some antique measuring cups for me.
Seller (gets cups): Oh yes, these. And the little pitcher too. Okay, let me add these up (calculates).
Me (thinking if she offends me once more, I will leave) Silence.
Seller (smiling): All right, that will be $20 (puts stuff in a bag)
Me (warily): Thanks.

While I was not in line, technically speaking, I did have to lean against a display table while waiting for my repaired laptop to be brought from the back. It took a while because I decided to ask why the purchase date on the invoice was August of last year instead of January, which was when I bought it this year. Obviously they knew it was still under warranty because there was no charge.

The display was of iPhones. A customer was peering intently at one model, hunkering down to get at the right eye level. He wore an expression of intense delight. One of the geniuses was manning the greeter position at the door while the greeter was seeing to my laptop. I truly hoped the customer bought an iPhone, he was quite beside himself as he tried them out.

The answer to the odd date? It was probably the day the online store (not Apple) got a shipment of Macs. When I buy AppleCare, I need to bring this up so they will change it.

On the way to the car, I heard someone upstairs at Zibibbo’s singing in Italian. It was a balmy night, and my option key was fixed.

Last night, the woman behind me had two geraniums, a pot of New Guinea impatiens and a rubber tree plant. My cart had a vat of olive oil, some artisan sausages, chicken legs, steelhead salmon fillets, cashew nuts, and a bag of oranges. Plus a very large hydrangea bush for ten bucks.

It is spring, after all.

It was bigger than usual with goods spread from the sidewalk out front, along the driveway and into part of the backyard. On the little back porch, people were standing in line. I asked the fellow in front of me if this was the line to pay. Yes, he said, but it turned out he was mistaken. The sellers had roped off this area because of the jewelry. Rings were popular. In the back, one of the sellers confided that she recently lost ten lbs on a diet that removed inflammatory foods.

Finally, it was my turn. Ignoring the jewelry, I went for the masks arranged among the vintage gloves and hats. This week, I’m posing bears again. They generally sit fairly still.

I try not to stare at my fellow shoppers and the interesting combinations of food they buy. A few sidelong glances sufficed Saturday at Trader Joe’s (again). The gentleman in front of me was very wide through the middle with average size arms and legs. He was clutching three bags of the guilt-free potato chips in one hand, two jars of almond butter in the other. Then he offered his profile. If you recall the Nowhere Man from Yellow Submarine, this man was the almost-but-not-quite morbidly obese version.

After about three weeks on the South Beach, I’m coming unglued and easing back into carbs here and there. Not a lot, but some. I have energy!

One of the items I looked forward to as a snack was almond butter. Once you get the hang of natural nut butter, it’s nice to know there’s only one ingredient: nuts. However good for me the almond butter was, nutritionally speaking, it was unsalted and very bland. Even though I stored it in the fridge in the approved manner, i.e. upside down, the solids still managed to part company with the oils, and I sometimes had a gob of stuff to coax back to the creamy stage. Given the choice between that and the usual sugar-free popsicle, I made the obvious choice (can’t eat cheese and cheese-related items on the diet).

Three weeks without sugar will sharpen your taste buds. I bought some sunflower seed butter at Trader Joe’s last weekend, and was surprised at the sweetness. The ingredient list contains evaporated cane juice. Very tasty.

So there I was again at the Genius Bar, and it was a much busier night than Monday. When it was my turn, I had to lean in between a couple who continued their conversation as I tried to explain my laptop woes to my genius. I couldn’t hop up on a stool due to my back being thrown out of whack over the weekend. Sometimes I wish I were a larger person with extra jumbo elbows. The genius listened patiently as he fooled with my laptop while he monitored the talkative couple’s machines. He was annoyed but trying hard not to show it.

A family member picked this moment to ask the genius, ‘Say, can I get one of those Genius shirts?’

‘No!’ barked the genius. No glance up, no smile.

Apple stopped selling the shirts a while back. If you want one badly enough, you can find it at eBay and such.

In the Bay Area, it’s not as easy as you might think. Most of the time, we have no need for heavy outerwear, and even when it’s in the 40s, a surprising number of residents run around in shorts and a tee. Well, maybe shorts and a sweatshirt.

When a son needed such a jacket for an upcoming trip to NYC, I was coaxed along because, ‘Mom, I don’t know what to look for.’

Twenty-somethings usually don’t make requests like this. As it turned out, I desperately needed to get away from the horrific cough of another family member, whose lungs have been shaken, stirred and turned inside out these past many days.

After discovering that Macy’s and other such only carry lightweights, we wound up at Any Mountain. My son announced that he had a moral obligation not to wear Michelin-man down jackets. That culled out most of the choices, which included camouflage snowboarding jackets with fur-lined hoods. There was only one possibility, but it was on the pricey side. A quick check on the iPhone to Amazon yielded the same for a bit less, but not in the right size.

By this time, it was determined that the true test of a suitable jacket was the amount of sweat produced after zipping it up.

Exit another store. I don’t know how my kids got to be such picky shoppers. I quit taking them with me when they found that hiding under the revolving clothes racks was great fun. I always thought that guys made quick work of shopping. My other son can spend the better part of an afternoon in one shoe store.

On to Burlington Coats. Not my favorite store. I used to find things for my mom in there. I hung back, looking for hydrating shampoos and girlie socks at The Rack. When I caught up with my son, I had a movie moment, the kind where the camera pulls back to reveal the character is surrounded by endless desert or trees or crowds. In this case, he was in the middle of racks and racks of coats, lightweight, heavyweight, overcoats, peacoats, trenchcoats. And he was sweating.

We emerged about an hour later. He had his urban jacket in a tasteful, manly color, all lined with lots of down, but concealed in such a way that he only looked as if he’d had a really filling dinner.

He saved $200.

It lingers, the bug. Just when I thought I was free, back it comes this afternoon, a vague queasiness, tiredness, a froggy throat. The runs came back as well.

At dinner, I watched as a family member ate leftover barbecued baby back ribs and hash brown patties. It smelled good, but I was having none of it, even though my stomach was beginning to rumble. Nothing in the fridge appealed, most of it being raw.

We had to run out to Whole Foods, whose pastry department is the best place to get a surprise gift for someone who’s done something very nice for you and isn’t going to send a bill. After I picked out three of the big fancy desserts, including the one shaped like a coffee cup, I headed for the soups/stews island. Rejected most, settled for the turkey.

All this wearing my heaviest coat, which is heavy indeed, the kind with two layers of fasteners. I was happy to see other shoppers wearing overcoats, though none quite as extreme as mine. Then I saw something that made me feel much better, and finely dressed at that.

Over by the fresh mozzarella, highly favored by another family member, a couple was talking to a clerk. The guy was dressed in a light jacket, the woman had on black furry boots that looked to be made of bear. At least six inches thick. I must find these online and post a picture.

The turkey stew/soup was most excellent, I should have gotten the big container.

It fits in a mailing envelope, and weighs three pounds less than my current Powerbook G4. Mighty tempting. Mighty. Tempting.

The good news is that it’s not the vomiting thing going around. The bad news is I sound like Alec Baldwin. I chugged half the jug of Tropicana yesterday until my stomach complained of acidic conditions. My errand running ended when I realized I’d best be near a bathroom.

I sent a family member out for toilet paper, because even though I generally stock up, the apocalypse does tend to arrive now and then.

Today, food is not real welcome, which I guess is a good thing.

Just after Christmas, a family member and I went to Orchard Supply, which was advertising storage boxes for $5. These were the right size for me to move around, unless I filled them with books, which I am doing today, even with the upper respiratory. Because the ‘putting away’ frenzy is on.

We found three boxes and no tops. The clerk called a superior, who reported that there was a glut at their other store ten minutes away. We didn’t have the ten minutes to spare. Life, you know.

Fast forward to last week, when Target had the same boxes advertised for a lot less. Thursday night, another family member and I tried to access the ones on a high shelf. After failing, then getting a clerk’s attention, we learned they had plenty of boxes, but no tops.

Do people walk out with extra tops? Is there a higher authority somewhere in the supply chain that decrees, we’re going to send them 100 boxes and 70 tops? Do I have to run out Sunday morning after the ads appear to get first choice?

We got the last ten at another Target. The contents of the garage will be indigo blue. But they will have tops.

Now then. What to do with all the VHS tapes of X-Files and Simpsons that the kids taped years ago.

If the future isn’t here now, it’s coming very soon. The price? Why, compared to the Mercedes SLR McLaren (just under a cool half mil), it’s a steal. While some might argue that the Mercedes does indeed fly, we are talking flight in the aeronautical sense.

Buyers are apparently lining up. In case you’re reaching for your wallet, make sure you have a pilot’s license.

When I’m in the food picture-taking mode, the fridge is filled with pretty stuff. Currants, blueberries, uncooked but filled wontons. Shrimp patties with salmon and cilantro. Fresh dill. Fresh mozzarella. Creme soda. There would be strawberries, but even in California, January is not such a great time. I know, because I shopped last night in vain.

Outside the fridge, there are wondrous-looking biscuits from Whole Foods. Sourdough rolls from Trader Joe’s. Avocados. Cara cara oranges. Baby yellow potatoes. An enormous assortment of Christmas hard candies.

Of course, it depends on what family members have been trained to recognize as ‘Don’t touch that open-faced sandwich’ or ‘The pudding has stuff that’s not food’. So far, no one has actually eaten anything destined for photographing. Maybe because the grub I usually dish up for meals looks nothing like what I take pictures of.

The sun was out. This was not in the forecast. Taking advantage, a family member and I headed out for groceries. My rain jacket was still a mess from numerous trips out to take pictures in yesterday’s downpours, so I just wore a waterproof vest. First mistake.

A couple of seconds after leaving the car at Costco, the umbrella inverted itself. Inside, it was as if the apocalypse was arriving tomorrow, with gridlock in the aisles, hostile-looking people pushing carts aside in their rush. At the banana section, one whole side had only green ones. The other side was really picked over. I clumsily pushed one box aside. Second mistake. Immediately, the woman next to me reached over and got the two best bunches. Not a word. I uncovered another box as a man pressed in, waiting to do the same.

I heard a shopper say to his wife that they needed toilet paper. Family members know that I stockpile enough to last till the apocalypse.

Last year, I got in line with many, many people at the Hallmark store. It was so cold we lined up close to one another to keep warm. (We in Northern California are a bunch of wimps when it comes to winter, mostly because we tend to underdress. Few of us own heavy coats, and if we did , we sure wouldn’t wear them to do this kind of shopping.)

This morning, the line at Target at 7 a.m. was not so bad, a stark moon shone over us and the crowd was cheerful. I was early enough that entire aisles of Christmas things were mine alone. This didn’t last long.

Post-Christmas is very different from other kinds of shopping. People go in groups, coverage is coordinated, and they tend to yell happily to one another across the store. It’s not confined to women. Christmas quilts go fast. Men tend to hunker down in front of the remote lighting control section. It’s the best time to get an artificial tree.

I was there for one item, a box of non-reflective ornaments for photographing. What did I come out with?

1. two boxes of ornaments
2. three new stockings because the old ones were impossible to fill comfortably
3. two Santa hats
4. two packages of gift boxes
5. one package of gift bags
6. one nutcracker
7. two packages of tags
8. three rolls of wrap
9. one bag of red bows
10. one star ornament
11. one package of cookie cutters
12. one pair of Christmas argyle knee socks

What I looked at seriously, thought about but didn’t buy:
1. the Christmas gnome
2. a Christmas quilt
3. a Christmasy duck
4. a Pooh sitting in a rocking chair reading to Piglet
5. jingle bell wreaths

Not just any teddy, please. But this one is full of wheat grains, and will stay warm for two hours after being zapped.

A warm bear. Give me a good movie and some hot cocoa and one of these, it’s going to rain all week.

Seen first at popgadget.

If it’s pointed up, and you’re fumbling around for a paring knife, forgetting that you put the razor in there, you might get a finger that keeps bleeding. Two days later. Maybe I need a stitch or two. Now the finger next to it is complaining that it too needs a bandage. Chapping, I think, and trying to open stubborn screw-tops that the other finger normally handles. Why does this happen when I’m supposed to be Christmas shopping.

Somewhere, there’s a script. It goes like this: the heroine (me) loves getting packages, especially big ones. Doesn’t matter if they are for other people. The rest of the cast (the delivery guys) conspire to get the packages delivered only when I’m not there. Since I work from home, this gets tricky.

Yesterday, as I rounded the corner after leaving my friend’s house, here comes the UPS guy. Hmmm, I wonder, did I get something? Three packages neatly stacked by the garage door.
Just now, I went to the bathroom to tape up the bloody fingers (more on that later). Thud! Thud! Three more packages neatly stacked by the back door.

A family member works one day a week from home. He manages to receive packages directly from the same guys.

I’ll admit that during the afternoon delivery times, I might be taking the shower that I miss by having to be at the computer before dawn. Infrequently, I’m out back tending to the landscaping. From time to time I am in the bathroom.

Maybe the guys have a Santa complex. Anyway, the two biggest packages (too big for me to lift) have finally gotten here. Family members tend to follow the blog more closely at holiday time, so I’m just saying, fellas, no rummaging around the closets, the garage or under beds. No poking into shopping bags, looking on the roof, in the trunk of my car, or peeling back a corner of the gift wrap.

I mean it.

I made a call this morning to a company back east.

Me: Your item X (family members read the blog, cannot reveal product) in medium is out of stock. Will you get more in in time for Christmas?
Salesman 1: It’s showing up here as being discontinued.
Me: Can’t be. It’s a very popular product.
Salesman 1: Right, okay now it says later in January.
Me: So there’s no chance for Christmas at all.
Salesman 1: You can call back in a couple hours and talk to the guy who can ask the buyer.

Two hours later.
Me: Do you plan to get in X before Christmas? I was told you would talk to the buyer and find out.
Salesman 2: (brusquely)Who told you that?
Me: I don’t know his name.
Salesman 2: (loudly) Why would he tell you something like that? It says here clearly not available till January.
Me: He said you would talk to the buyer.
Salesman 2: I don’t need to talk to the buyer. I know it won’t be here till January.

I call a rival company, same product.
Me: Will you have, etc. etc.
Salesman 3: Sometime in January.
Me: Early January?
Salesman 3: Yes. Does this person you’re giving it to plan to gain a lot of weight over the holidays?
Me: (giggle) Well, there’s Christmas dinner.
Salesman 3: We do have the large and extra large in stock.
Me: Afraid not. Medium.
Salesman 3: Or maybe he’s tending some toward anorexic? We have the small. In both colors.
Me: (chuckle): Sorry.
Salesman 3: Are you a returning customer? Phone number? Ah, (my name), yeah, early January.
Me: I’ll order it online then.
Salesman 3: Nah, (my name) I can do that right here, take two minutes.
Me: Paypal.
Salesman 3: Oh. Can’t do Paypal over the phone.
Me: It’s okay. I got it.

Looking for some for either gifts or for you? I’ve got ‘em over at cafepress.

I’ll be uploading more images soon, maybe even before Christmas, but meanwhile, there are several designs to choose from.

A reader asks if Pleo is available yet. I first posted about the playful dinosaur early last year.

On the 18th, Amazon will have him, albeit at a fairly steep price.

But it is Christmas after all.

The plan was to hit the outlets at Gilroy after dinner at the Black Bear Diner. Knowing how dead the stores can be on a weeknight this early in the season, I joked to family members that there certainly wouldn’t be the usual long line at the diner.

There was. Worse, even. I looked around at the huge number of kids, most with balloons. It was around 7:00 p.m when we were seated at last. The stores closed at 9:00 p.m.

Either it was the biggest birthday party ever, or some sort of family reunion, since everyone seemed to know one another. It turned out to be a fundraiser for a local school.

After our pot roast, fish and chips and chicken pot pie, we headed out to see what shopping could be done. Very little, unfortunately, but I learned something useful. In the future, if I want the above-mentioned family to shop cheerfully, enthusiastically, and even browse in stores they’d normally refuse to be seen in, I should make sure they eat a hearty diner meal beforehand.

From time to time, I find one in an Asian store deli. Over the summer, as a matter of fact, I spotted a glorious one. (I am always looking for photo subjects.) Alas, there is a language barrier. The proprietor failed to fully understand my meaning, perhaps. I certainly failed to grasp why anyone would pay the price I thought he suggested. The transaction was not to be.

This morning, another head rested in a metal pan next to the ducks and assorted cooked meats. For $5, it was mine. I nodded. Before I stopped nodding, I heard a CHOP! Then another CHOP! I waved my arms wildly, No, No, I want it whole! Stop!

He stopped, the head was wrapped, I paid. I pictured a split down the snout, and thought, with a little luck, maybe I could Photoshop it all back together. The family member accompanying me said he thought the ears had been removed.

The chopper and his friends were smiling behind the counter. We asked for the ears. He looked blank, then waved over a counter person who spoke English. Ears, I said. I need it all for a picture. Ah, she said, and the chopper located the charred ears from some unseen location.

Tomorrow, with a few toothpicks, possibly duct tape, I will try to reattach the parts. There might or might not be a photo posted.

Yes, yes I know online shopping is best for people like me. But then I’d miss all the drama.

I got some at the farmers’ market bakery, and they were attractive and, uh, delicious. We wound up eating several, and by photo time, only three were left. They were bendy in the middle, and didn’t have quite the look I wanted, being made of puff pastry.

Friends had told me some time ago about a local restaurant famous for its breadsticks. I stopped by tonight, waiting patiently while the man behind the counter took an order by phone. When he finally looked up, I asked how many breadsticks came with an order to go.

Man (very Italian): You want side order or whole?
Me: Not whole, I want just the breadsticks to go. How many per order?
Man: Three. But that not what you want.
Me: (Raise eyebrows)
He staples the phone takeout order to another piece of paper, and turns to the cook in back. They confer. For a long time. The place was deserted, but I think it was closing time, or very near. Finally, he turned back.
Man: Now, what you want again. Breadsticks.
Me: How many in a side order?
Man: That not what you want. No. I tell you why. You order side of bread, you get three piece. Cost $8.00. You want big whole order.
Me: No I don’t. I want the small order.
Man: No no. Come, I show you. (He goes over to a refrigerated case full of small tubs of a yellow substance.) You see that.
Me: Yeah.
Man: You order side of bread, you get three small piece and the little bitty tub of cheese spread.
Me: I just want to take photos of bread sticks.
Man: (long-suffering look)
Me: So I only need a few.
Man: Come with me. (He goes to another refrigerated case, and takes out a round of dough cut into wedges.) You see. You buy for a dollar more, you get all this, and the really big tub of cheese spread.
Me: (tempted) I’m sorry, I really thought you had the bread in sticks.

All the way to the car, I kept thinking I should go back and buy the whole thing and the big tub, and just plan a meal around it. Maybe Sunday.

Looking to cross a few items off your list re headsets? Here’s a review of some of the top choices, courtesy of Slate.

Give them a pile of construction paper, a pencil, and wow. I love my Mac, but it has neither a ‘Food’ nor an ‘imediet Buy’ button.

Two large bags of yams. Two large loaves of white bread for making stuffing. Cream cheese for pies. Two cans of pumpkin filling. Spinach and lettuce for salads.

Clerk: So. You going to make yam sandwiches?
Me: (long-suffering look)
Clerk: I had to stay with relatives once, and they were poor. They mashed up some vegetables so they looked like meat, and put that between bread slices. Tasted like sawdust.
Me (to myself): What am I forgetting. There’s other stuff I need.

Home at last, I remembered. Pie crusts. Egg nog. More on special sandwich fillings in a bit.

Well, almost.

There I was at Lowe’s, loading up the cart in the almost deserted nursery. There was only one other customer, but then most people don’t shop for flowers at night. Then the big, loud train came by. It shook things the way the trains in The Triplets of Belleville did. A few things slid off some high shelves, but the guy didn’t seem concerned, so I began looking for cyclamen. He meandered out.

A few minutes later, a family member found me. That’s when I learned the entire store had been evacuated. Well, except for us. And that several people were crying out in the parking lot.

I couldn’t help it. I completely cracked up. You see, usually we go to Home Depot (for those not familiar with American home improvement stores, these are the two biggest ones), which is located next to the railroad tracks. Not that I ever experienced such shaking there, but I mean, that’s sort of an excuse.

The ceiling fans and lamps on display were still kind of swaying as we checked out, and quite a few of the store staff were sitting in small groups in the parking lot.

So I missed all the brouhaha, but got to have the fun. I hope my luck holds out next time.

If you thought the choices in toothpaste, for example, were daunting, you might visit the hardware store and check out the caulk section (aisle 18 at the local Orchard Supply). In paint, not plumbing.

A new tool in my arsenal against the continuing ant battles. Over time I will seal every possible entry point, because I’m really tired of writing about ants. Especially after a family member reached up for the shower head only to find his hand covered with a multitude.

If you’re in need of aquarium sealant, which I needed a few weeks ago to patch a fountain, the hardware store is a better choice than the pet store. The sealant is hanging there alongside the 30 kinds of caulk, and you’ll save at least $5.

When I was very young, maybe four or five, my dad took me to the huge fish market where he bought his shrimp. It was a cavernous warehouse full of men wearing bloody aprons and wielding very large knives. The floor was slippery with viscera. I did what any self-respecting little girl would do, I threw up on the spot.

When I go to the fish market now, I’m usually looking for a good specimen to photograph, and if I manage to refrigerate it in time, to eat. There was a very clear-eyed, fresh fish from Australia on the ice yesterday, and as I leaned in to look at it more closely, the remaining dregs of pistachio in my system nudged my gastrointestinal tract in a very unpleasant manner.

I backed away. Today I took pictures of pieces of paper.

It’s that good, just as funny the second time around, and clearer since I didn’t catch some stuff earlier. This time, I misted up at the end. Don’t turn it off as the credits roll, there’s more.

We spent most of the day outlet shopping, and had leftovers. But such tasty leftovers: barbecued baby backribs, duck legs with duck potatoes, potstickers from Cho’s in Palo Alto, beef stew and corn on the cob.

I needed a few things, which came to $11.62. I had the ten out, and was reaching for the rest when the clerk (who appeared to be in his 50s) volunteered that I needed two more bucks. Thinking I wasn’t really that slow, I handed over the dollars plus two cents.

He froze. After he put the money in the register, the change thing at the top said .40. He fumbled around, rattled the change drawers, sighed, looked at the growing line.

Clerk: Okay, you gave me two cents.
Me: Yes.
Clerk: I owe you change.
Me: Yes.
Clerk: How much do I owe you.
Me: 40 cents.
Clerk: 40 cents?
Me: Yes.
Clerk uncertainly puts a quarter and two nickels on the counter.
Me: That’s only 35 cents.
Clerk: What do I need?
Me: A nickel.
Clerk: Oh.

I can relate to his confusion. We had a play store in second grade, and somehow I missed the lesson on making change. I would just dump a handful of play coins in kids’ hands after they bought something. Very quickly, the teacher came marching up.

But I had an excuse. I was 7 years old. I wondered what kind of horrible day this man had on Sunday at a major chain store, and how long he could last before someone came marching up.

Yesterday I dropped my camera, and much as a peanut butter sandwich lands with its messy side to the floor, so my lens caught the full brunt of gravity. Part of it was actually bent.

This just after I got a new set of studio lights. The gods were angry. It’s been a tough week all around. I began online shopping immediately.

When a family member came home and learned the news, he took one look, announced that the lens was toast but the camera was fine. I spent a large part of today deciding which lens would be a suitable replacement without breaking the bank.

A few minutes ago, several friends of the family member showed up. One took the lens, and began fiddling with it, rotating it back and forth. He did not hear the ‘crunching’ sound noted earlier. We discussed lenses, and he approved of my choice, all the while he was working the lens. After a bit, he handed it back. ‘There,’ he said. ‘All fixed.’

He was right. It was. Unbent. Soundless. Moving smoothly. Thanks, Will!

But I’m still ordering that other lens.

Quite a few people were showing signs that they had not eaten in recent memory. A couple were arguing at an end-of-aisle display of chips. ‘But I don’t like that kind!’ said the exasperated husband. Lots of chip bag rattling.

The family in front of us in the checkout line had a heated discussion over something, and the person who appeared to be the mother-in-law stomped off to either look for a substitute or to return the item in question. Their cart held, it turned out, almost $400 in luggage, turkey burgers and Rainier cherries, among other things. Their cherries looked nicer than mine, so I’ll assume they dug down in the unopened boxes. But everyone knows that if you’re going to buy those very excellent cherries, they will jack up your bill by triple digits.

Not to be left out, I fumed when a family member questioned whether we actually had room in our smallish freezer for the box of 36 ice cream bars (assorted). Indeed, I am in here polishing off some of the miniature frozen cheesecakes so those bars could squeeze in. Now really, do you think I would have considered buy them if I wasn’t sure I could toss out all the freezer-burned old meat, therefore making room?

And I had eaten supper before shopping.

I was there to find a fish or two for photographing, preferably with eyes that were not sunken or otherwise separated from their sockets. Stopping to check out the veggies, I was startled by the plump woman next to me who burst into song. Whatever was playing over the store’s sound system touched a nerve in her, and she was lost in a world of her own.

Unfortunately, this struck me as being terribly funny, and I moved away toward the peaches. She came up behind me, and launched into another verse, as heartfelt and unselfconscious as the first. The produce section was packed, but no one else seemed to be even smiling.

By this time, I was in grave danger of embarrassing this happy soul or myself. Hurrying to the fish section, I played with the live spotted prawns ($16.99/lb), bought three Dungeness crabs and two striped bass.

Life can be a musical sometimes.

I spent a bit of time at the store looking for a few photogenic cherries. Rainiers are sometimes more expensive than rib steaks. But nothing else would do, and while I was there, I got some big strawberries too, since this particular store lets the buyer pick from a bulk selection.

The checkout clerk was new, and quite the fastidious guy. He has mastered the discreet hand motion needed to squirt breath freshener before focusing on the task at hand. Taking a glance at the prices he rang up, I noted that the cherries were showing up at $6.99/lb when the sign had said $4.99. He called for assistance, and while we waited, he smoothed his eyebrows, and patted down his buzzcut. Something was reflecting his image back to his careful eye, as he went at his eyebrows again. Maybe it was the chrome on the scale. He appeared to try to pump up his cheeks as he inspected his recent shave.

If we had been there a little longer, he might have reached under the counter for his deodorant.

Your friend the card-carrying NRA member is tying the knot soon. You want to acknowledge his sporting interests while bowing to tradition. A little something for the happy couple’s kitchen, perhaps?

Perhaps you’ve noticed if you live here in the Bay Area. It’s front page news in the local paper, and if you’re suffering, you’re definitely not alone.

I went to a library book sale Sunday, and in the fiction section, went through all eight tissues in my purse. In less than five minutes. Some of those around me were sniffing loudly.

In the nursery at Lowe’s last night, I was fine, but the clerk was a soggy mess. Hello, spring.

At the store tonight, there they were in all their powdery goodness. I have to work a few more hours, and didn’t even think how hard they would be to eat at the keyboard. First, I gazed at the Entenmann’s offerings, but the box was too big. I found the Hostess ones, and not only were there some in a small container, but for those of big appetite, there was a big box too. I haven’t had a powdered sugar doughnut in years.

But sanity held out, and I headed for the checkout doughnutless. (I only had roast chicken and a salad for dinner, no carbs, hence the craving.) The clerk looked longingly into the bag as he sacked up my purchases.

Me: What.
Clerk: I see you have a duck.
Me: Yes, you have them on sale.
Clerk: Duck is good food.
Me: You should get one and roast it.
Clerk: I don’t know how. I get my duck in restaurants.
Me: It’s easy.
Clerk: Nah. They taste good in restaurants.
Me: Lazy.
Clerk (gives me a look): Enjoy your night.
Me: Really. Easy.
Clerk: I like duck with some bread. And chili.

I wonder what restaurant he goes to. Obviously, one where they serve man food.

A painting in her husband’s collection from Bacon’s Pope series will be up for auction this week. Christie’s expects a tidy sum to be raised.

So meat has now moved to the top spot in the lists of ‘most shoplifted’ items. The last time I checked one of these lists a while back, Preparation H was number one.

America’s needs are changing.

Yesterday I got behind a woman with long blondish hair, who was having a long conversation with the checkout guy at Trader Joe’s. Busy day, lots of customers. She had an unusually deep voice, but that happens. I was wishing I got in a different line when something fell at my feet. It was a Visa card.

‘M’am’, I said. ‘M’am? Is that your charge card?’ I asked.

M’am turned around, revealing his true gender, said I’d done my kind deed of the day, and I was mortified. The clerk seemed highly amused. Then I was worried I’d run into the guy in the parking lot. Which, of course, I did.

That’s when I noticed he had put on white Garry Larsenish-sunglasses of the kind few individuals of the masculine sex wear.

Life is so confusing.

Produced as Meals, Ready-to-Eat(MREs) by the military, they are called other, more colorful things by their intended users: “Meals refusing to Excrete” and “Meals Refused by Ethiopians” (starving) among others.

Then there is their untold value as field amusement devices. This use is frowned upon by commanders because it involves flammable hydrogen, and if the tabasco packet is pressed into service, tear gas.

If you are tiring of all the holiday candies and pastries, MREs are available on eBay, where rations meant for use by Katrina and other disaster victims can be procured. By the case and unopened.

For roughly the price of a nice rib roast. But then the roast doesn’t come with a pack of gum, high-fiber crackers, a dessert and toilet paper.

Now that I’ve figured out how to make it, I’ll be making batches to give away. The only glass jars around here are pickle jars that still smell pickley after washing. IKEA had the perfect ones. And yes, since I was there, I got some little plates, napkins, a rug, a chopping board, some tongs - so two hours of my shopping day are gone.

Pictures later. Now where’s that brown shirt?

An early morning (too early it turns out) trip to IKEA, a breakfast there to kill the 30 minutes before the store part opened, and the list is getting smaller. On the way to the car, there was a large, reddish splotch on the garage floor with feathers here and there. I had to stop.

A seagull seeking shelter from the cold, only to collide with an SUV in a hurry? A sacrificial chicken? All answers come, it seems, if you wait. As we neared the exit, what should bob into view but a pigeon.

About half done, I think. There were highlights.

Santa’s booth:
Watching from a floor above Santa’s village, we could see the kids all dressed in holiday finery, from the girl in a winter white gown and hat to the little boys in holiday sweaters and the pair of sisters in matching pink and black dresses. The younger of the two boys was too frightened to smile despite the pleas of all involved. His brother gave him a comforting hair mussing when they finally got to come down. The older of the sister duo gave Santa her brightest smile, and posed prettily while her little sister (2, I would guess, from the fuss) adamantly refused to cooperate. Dad tried to persuade her to sit in his own lap to one side of Santa, but she screeched her distress at the nearness of that scary man in the red suit. Dad gave up. Santa’s photographer should hire an elf to take shots of these other moments, so the families can include them in the card as well.

The struggle-to-make-sense-of it moment:
At Cost Plus, a woman paused to read out aloud her personal Feng Shui characteristics from a book. “I am a pig,” she said, “and my element is water.” Or some such. The crowds swirled around her, and she was unaware we were listening.

The bargain:
Tower Records is in its last throes, I still had $30 left on a gift card. It goes a long way when books are discounted 60%.

At the new Nob Hill on Grant in Mountain View, I stopped to admire the pies. A woman in a bright Christmas sweatshirt (I got some of those today too, but not at Nob Hill) turned to me and said, “I’m going to get in trouble.” Then she pointed out that these particular pies were sugar-free, and confided that she only ate the fillings, not the crusts. I told her she was a paragon of virtue since the crusts are the fatty part.

So now the bedroom is heaped with gifts not yet wrapped. The tree is decorated, but the loose needles have to be vacuumed before the tree skirt goes down. It’s a perfect tree, except for the two tops, but this way, we can have an angel and the little bear that clings to the branch for dear life that is the boys’ favorite. Which we can’t find.

Last night while the kids were trimming the tree, I learned how to make hot fudge sauce.

Serious dark smoke starting coming out of the brick around lunchtime, and I unplugged the thing. Then I got on the phone again, talked to two more Apple store people. The one in Palo Alto said the Valley Fair store usually had a few ‘refreshed’ adapters around. Did that mean the same as ‘refurbished’, I wondered. They assured me these had been opened by customers but returned unused. Now why would they do that?

A call to Valley Fair: they had two refresheds this morning, but they were gone now. Time to try Fry’s.

A very helpful salesperson (either they’ve all been whipped, or the old staff was fired, or they’ve been completely retrained) spent a large part of his afternoon searching for something that would work on my G4 laptop. First he found an adapter with too little wattage, then one that seemed awfully powerful. Finally, there was the Goldilocks moment. He would leave it at will call. Thanks, Jay!

Tonight I dashed over. There was no adapter at will call. My heart sank at the idea of doing this all over again with a different clerk, because wouldn’t you know it, Jay was gone for the day.

A guy in a suit tried to help. I could remember part of the name of the manufacturer and the price. He took me to some shelves where the products looked familiar from Jay’s descriptions earlier. Nothing. Then I said the magic word: universal. Jay had mentioned that it would work in cars and airplanes. The suit headed for the laptop section and within seconds, it was in my hand.

My battery was at 0 when I got home. Now it’s up to 43% and life is looking okay again. Micro Innovations. $70. I still have an Apple adapter on back order, I’m thinking it’s a very good idea to have two.

Actually, I had some soup earlier, ran out to Costco, got the 19-lb turkey. Faced with another hour or so of work, I need a little something. This is, to be honest, not typical. I don’t take pictures of the ice cream so much. Or the Cheetos.

But I got these giant avocados at the Palo Alto farmers market Saturday, and knowing that if I don’t pay some attention, they’ll sit quietly in some corner and lose all their volume while the turkey gets all the glory.

If you haven’t picked up a turkey yet, better hurry. The line of cars was daunting enough, but inside, it was crazy.

Ran out this morning and got a bag each of Snickers, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, 3 Musketeers, Butterfinger, and Nestle’s Crunch. This year, stores are featuring giant figures of Frankenstein and other such that are not the usual inflatables. The neighbors are getting in the mood.

My usual attempt at decorating for the 4-5 kids that show up has been done - stringing up several hundred lights on a big bush out front. I used to do a tree, but that has gotten too tall.

So far, one neighbor has an inflated pumpkin of the huge variety, another has one of the Frankensteins, while another has kind of an arrangement around a carved pumpkin centerpiece. Maybe it’s the balmy weather. Normally no one bothers.

I managed to get to WalMart, where the main display has a giant clear bubble filled with bobbing ghosts. We crazy Americans just can’t wait to trash up our front yards with all this stuff.

When my laptop gets hot, I elevate it on large juice bottletops at each corner. Not exactly a good match for my Powerbook, but it’s hard to find titanium lids. A son uses those large flat erasers. But when he actually uses his laptop in his lap, I start muttering about the genetic dangers of such a practice.

Enter the Lapinator, which weighs less than a pound, and is much cooler looking than bottletops. Plus it will help insure that there will be future generations.

With four million Flickr users and their 200 million uploaded photos, that’s quite a database of images. But will customers be lining up to buy?

The sexy look of a high heels plus the comfort of a flat. In one shoe. You’re kidding, right?

An idea whose time has definitely come, and one that should be implemented on the majority of high heels.

If you suffered through a recent heat wave at your desk while the computer churned out even more heat, you can appreciate the U.S.B. Beverage Chiller from CoolIT Systems.

The people behind this device point out that chilling an entire can of soda or other refreshing drink is not the idea. What they want to do is keep the last third or so of the drink cold. The part that, when you come back to it, is lukewarm and therefore not that drinkable.

Unless you have access to crushed ice, as I finally do, and highly recommend. If your a/c is not efficient, and I truly know the feeling, a handful of such ice can be applied to pulse points for instant cooling. If desperate, a handful down the shirt always works, if only briefly.

Yesterday I popped into the downtown SF one, which was packed. Near the front was a display of MacBooks, which I’ve been curious about. My old 17-inch Powerbook and I are as one, but it gets heavy at times. I picked up the nearest white one, and the young woman next to me became agitated.
YW: Oh, you’re not supposed to do that!
Me: Why not?
YW: Oh, you can’t do that!<