Shoelaces for Josie

I grew up in a large family. Somewhere in the mumbo-jumbo of this blog, I mentioned I had four sisters and a brother. Consequently, I was never called the correct name growing up. In fact, whenever I make the pilgrimage back to me ole haunts, I’m still not called by my given name. It’s ok. It doesn’t bother me. In fact, I’ll answer to most anything - even Miss Crabtree, apparently.

Elaboration - today I cleaned for Really Old Lady (ROL). Once again, Safeway was graced with my presence, shopping list and “vintage” coin purse in tow. After racing quickly through the list - and by quickly I mean at the speed of grass growing in the desert - I checked out. I always use ROL’s club card. It’s her money. She should get a discount if it’s there.

Today was no different, however, after I batted my eyelashes at the cute sacker-man at the end of the counter (what is the correct terminology for them, anyway? bagger? sacker? probably not sacker-man now that I think of it. Probably a more PC term would be sacker-attendant.) and held my hand for my change, the cashier politely handed me the bills and said, “Thank you Miss Crabtree (aka ROL), have a nice day.”

You’ll be proud of me. I didn’t miss a beat. I looked her dead-on and thanked her and bid her a good day as well.

I laughed the entire way out of the store. People looked at me funny. Apparently walking through Safeway with a goofy grin and erupting chuckles is not deemed acceptable. What do I know? This is Name-Game Thursday and Miss Crabtree is in the hizzouse.