The Frumpy Dumpkins

Hello, dear blog readers. I'm sure this is probably the completely wrong attitude to have toward those folks who may (or may not) be worse off in life than I am, but I just couldn't help myself on Saturday. (Even as I write this I feel a little guilty, but I think you'll see why.)

If pictures are worth a thousand words, here's one for the books. These were taken from The People of Wal-Mart website, but you'll get the idea of my shopping excursion.

So when I went into Winco on Saturday morning, there was a family of four largish folks: very tall and well-built.  Long scraggly hair on all of them, including a mullet on the mother and a thinning comb-over on the father. As they proceeded to block up the aisles in the produce section (much like the picture above), I politely asked if I could push my cart through. The response I got was "We'll move in a minute." They proceeded to stand there and argue about the price of apples until the aisle was fully of people waiting for them to move. Doh!

While minor annoyance was mounting, I decided to head for a different section of the produce department once they had made their choice and moved onto another selection. Made it down two aisles, and how about that! Hillbilly heaven again! Doh! They took the last of the thyme, too!

Forget the produce. I decided to venture to the meat department.

Managed to get turkey bologna for the hubs, and since I couldn't find ox tail and lamb bones for my brown stock recipe, I ended up in the bacon area. Doh! Who should be blocking the aisle between the bacon and my query? Guess I'll come back to the meat later. Time to go back to the vegetables.

Needless to say, a 30-minute trip to Winco took me an hour, and I had to circle the store three times to avoid the Frumpy Bumpkins.

Next, after dropping the groceries at home and putting them away, I decided I had time to head for JoAnn's to look for a quilting fabric ruler that I seem to have lost in the move to Oregon. I didn't find what I was looking for, but who should block my exit from the store? None other than the Frumpy Dumpkins family, plus an additional family member I hadn't met yet. In a huff of frustration I managed to leave the store after waiting for them to move out of the doorway. Apparently all one needed was for them to tire and bore of their study of funky sale fabrics surrounding the entrance.

Off to Michael's I went, aware that I only had about an hour before I needed to leave for work. I immediately went to the quilting supplies, and O! Happy day! I found my piece. I headed for the counter. There was a bit of a line. I patiently waited, and lo! Who should just come a-barging in front of me to seize the clerk's attention? You guessed it. Too outlandish to be true, but one of Frumpky Dumpky children were looking for a pink plastic bird house for yet ANOTHER family member I hadn't seen in my prior two excursions. Fortunately, the clerk managed to point out that there was a line waiting, but that she would be happy to call another store employee to assist them in whatever outlandish quest they were on for the day.

Needless to say, I was perfectly happy to come home and to walk through the door and to see my cute little babe and sweet hubby. Not a chance Frumpky Dumpkins were going to be here looking for a sale or arguing over the price of bacon while a line piled up behind them on both sides of the aisle. My blood pressure started to settle, and I was able to breathe again.

Then, on my way out the door to work, what should I happen to see outside? No, not those particular Dumpkinses this time, but a Hillbilly pickup truck and trailer parked right behind my car. No way to use my car to go to work. The vehicle completely empty; no way to get a hold of the owners to move said violator vehicle.

When all was said and done, though, I was able to leave Bumpkinville behind and have a good night on shift (having arrived at the stroke of being on time!), thanks to my sweet Hubs who happened to be home and who lent me his car instead.

Well, dear blog readers, this bumpkin needs a few hours of sleep before Big C. wakes up. Happy night dreams to you all, dear readers!