Note to Self: Children at the Grocery Store, Part 2

Yesterday I’m taking care of my relatively short grocery shopping list.
I come down the aisle towards the milk coolers and there are people standing in front of both doors to the skim milk.  And they’re not talking about skim milk.  GET OUT OF MY WAY.

Then, around the corner comes a mom with four (yes, 4) kids aged infant to 7/8-ish.  I don’t estimate kids ages well.  The older one had a cart, so he could have been 5 or 15.  Regardless, so there is this mom with one of those huge shopping carts that has the car on the front (akin to the picture below, in case you live under a rock) with a kid who keeps entering/exiting the car,

a baby in the cart section (I think those are in aisle 15A, BTW), a toddler with a balloon and her lackey son with a cart of various diapers.
I’m pretty sure she saw me, which just raised my anger when she hit me in the ankle with the car/t and didn’t apologize.  She was trying to sneak her baseball team in the out end of the next aisle.  Oh,  unless I’m the only one who see the grocery aisles governed by the same rules as the road and water (red right return).
So naturally, she tries to cut me off.   And after hitting me in the ankle, I cut her off.  No way lady… don’t think so.
Halfway down the aisle, she parks the minivan about an arms length away from the shelves while the balloon toting kid dances (in a very not cute way) in front of the car, but just a little towards the other side so no one can get by.  It’s been a while.  Mom is deciding between stewed and diced tomatoes.  “Morgan (or whatever suburban name it had), get out of the way, you’re blocking people.”
And there is a collective sigh of relief from the people who want to get to the other end of the aisle.
“Chance,” she turns behind her to the son with the cart while pushing her cart forward (yeah, see the problem here?) “Can you push the cart?  Just make sure that you don’t hit anyone in the ankles.”
And I hurled a can of Chunky at her.
No, I kid.
I glared at her.
And laughed when I heard her trying to discipline her troops three aisles away.  “Morgan, Morgan.  Morgan.  MORGAN!  Get in, no, get over here, Morgan.  Morgan, get in the cart.  In the cart.  Morgan.  Now.  No.  No.  NO.  GET IN THE CART.  Now.  Morgan.  No, put that down.  NOW.”  etc.

If Nothing Else, I Got a Gyro out of the Deal

The final mark in my week-long triumphant adventure came this morning.
I sat for the Notary Public exam.
Within a week or so, I should know whether I’m a success or a failure then I get to apply for my license.
Good times.

Best part (of the traffic, the test, the parking, the people…) was getting a GOOD gyro.  Dear sweet baby Jebus, how I miss downtown food.

Oh drat, I lied about the final mark… I’m partaking in the final mark now.  Trying a sugar-free yogurt.
Why are you laughing?
Lemme ’splain:
Exhibit a) Sugar has a lot of calories (for someone who loves sweets and has carbs go straight to her hips)
Exhibit b) Splenda and Sweet-n-Low make me feel spacey
Exhibit c) If someone can point me in the direction of a stevia-flavored yogurt, that’d be great.
Exhibit d) Nutra-Sweet, Equal, and the like give me WICKED headaches.

I figured with everything else I’ve overcome, the least I could do is try.
Besides, the fat-free Yoplaits have totally better flavors then the reduced-fat versions.
I raise my Boston Creme Pie yogurt cup to you Tylenol,  hope we don’t have to meet later.