I am not a shopper. I am a hunter. When I need a suit, I go hunt for a suit. Upon spotting it, I shoot it….allow them to measure it….tailor it….then bag it….the better that I might walk out and wear it. I don’t want to comparison shop for it, wait for the store to reduce it, or go back home and ponder it. Find it, shoot it and wear it….that’s my motto. A few weeks back, I set a personal record. One suit. One sport coat. One pair of slacks. Two shirts. Two ties. Two stores. Forty minutes. Talk about power shopping.
Is It Okay If I Give Them Your Name?
Fred Craddock writes:
When I was a kid, I went to church with my mother. The minister of our little church would speak to my mother. “How’re you, Miz Craddock?” he would ask. And the five of us kids would go along like little ducks after our mother. “How’re you, Sonny? How’re you, Honey? How’re you, Sonny? How’re you, Honey?”
Advent and the Chicago Cubs
On the Friday after Thanksgiving, my nephew (or to be genealogically precise, the man who married my wife’s niece) was the 60th person in line at Wal-Mart at 5:15 in the morning. Unlike some men who wait until 5:15 on Christmas Eve, John wanted to get in early and get out cheap.
A Quarter Pound of Salt
Unless my memory has completely failed me, it was the late Mae West (that queen of burlesque) who used to say: “Always remember, darlings, that too much of a good thing is wonderful.” Obviously, Mae West never cooked with garlic. Or ginger, either.