Today started off bad and then proceeded to go downhill.

Every Monday morning since last August – almost a year – I have gone grocery shopping for Victor’s mom.  It’s an easy list of things and while a couple of items come and go there are a few things that I get every week without fail. 2 packages of apple strudel bites and 4 corn muffins from the in-store bakery at The Acme.

Same store every week.  Same time every week.  Same employees every week.  Same two items every week.  Half the time they’re not there.  “Oh, I haven’t gotten to them, yet.”  “I can put them in now.  They’ll be ready in about a half an hour.”  Every week.

I keep pushing my shopping time later and later – and I keep having the same conversation.

Every week.

So this week there was one package of strudel bites and one package of corn muffins.  I wasn’t going to wait 30 minutes for more.  Went over to the dairy case.  No half-gallons of whole milk.  None.  Nothing.  A big, empty space.  A couple of gallons and a lone quart.  I looked around for an employee but none were to be found.  Finally I spot a guy pushing a dairy rack and start to ask him if there were any half gallons and before I can get the question out he blurts “It will be in tomorrow” while shoving by me – not looking and not stopping.

Not amused.

And then no crossword books.  Victor’s mom likes her crosswords…

I go to check out and there’s one cashier and a long line.  I headed over to the self-check.

I head over to the Customer Service desk where I vent in a nice way.  The women behind the counter know me and one states “Heck.  Even I know you get those every week.  That’s not right.”  She says to wait a minute.  I don’t want to wait a minute, but I do.

Out comes the “Store Director” who immediately says “We must not have gotten our delivery from our supplier – it’s not our fault.”  I told her I understood that deliveries can be missed, but my frustration was with the bakery.  She let me know how busy they are and how they have to get the donuts and the bagels made first, and then the rolls, and then they do the other things.”  I asked what time would be good for “the other things” and she said “After they get the other things finished.”

I thanked her for her help.  And left.  What I didn’t say was “you’re the manager of the store and have no idea why you don’t have milk or what your staff is doing.  Maybe you should leave your office now and again and actually manage your store.”  Unfortunately, had I started saying anything, it would have been a string of expletives.  It was better to smile and leave.

I went to the CVS on the way and picked up the milk. Sign on the counter said “ring bell for cashier.”  Really.

I dropped everything off with Nonna, and went to PathMark to do a bit of shopping for us.

Another fun experience.  Not as bad as Acme – at least the employees are nice – but I wasn’t seeing what I wanted or needed.  I don’t get into moods like this often, but I knew I had to get home.   One of the smallest weekly shopping trips I’ve made in a long time.

I get home, put the few things away, and start a peach BBQ sauce.  I chop up three nice, ripe, juicy peaches and put them into a small pot with about a half-cup of Irish whisky.  I turn on the heat, leave the room, come back a couple of minutes later and they have carbonized to the pan.

Burnt doesn’t begin to describe it.  Those lovely sugars from the peaches and the whisky have formed an impenetrable layer on the pan.  It’s probably my most-used Calphalon pan.  1 1/2 quarts.  Perfect for  rice, vegetables, sauces – cooking for two. Burnt to a crisp.

Not amused.

I start the soaking process.

It’s now after noon and We’re both hungry.  I already have a royal case of the crankies.  I figure some food can’t hurt.

I grab the hot dogs, put them on the grill, go to get the buns – and they’re frozen.  I had bought them on Saturday and Victor didn’t know I was going to use them, so…

I grab frozen buns and thaw them on the grill.

I bring them back in, get them dressed, go back out for the hot dogs – and they’re burnt to a crisp.  I like charred hot dogs.  These were beyond charred.

We ate them, anyway.

Not amused.

At this point I should have just gone to bed and pulled the covers over my head.  But, no.  I trudge on.

I remade the BBQ sauce and it came out pretty good.  I start the ribs in the oven on low and let them go for several hours.

I get the pot cleaned.  A bit of cursing was involved and even the dog left the room – but I got the pot cleaned.

I’m brave. I bake some peach blondies.  I need to break the spell.  From all appearances they’re doing okay.  I’m watching them closely.

Time to start dinner.

I cut a potato, brush it with butter, garlic, and smoked paprika, wrapped them in foil, and placed on the grill.  15 minutes later, I added corn on the cob that I also brushed in butter, but sprinkled with cumin.  I wrapped it in foil and onto the grill it went.

10 minutes later, I went out the check everything – and I was out of propane.




I actually started laughing.  Not hysterical shrieking laughter (although it would have been fitting.)  More of a chuckle that spread into a big grin.

The spell was broken at that point.

I brought the corn and potatoes into the house and put them into the oven.

I placed the ribs under the broiler and got them sizzling.

Dinner was served.

In just a while we’ll be enjoying the Peach Blondies.

Life is good.

Quick Peach BBQ Sauce

  • 3 ripe, juicy peaches, chopped
  • 1/2 cup bourbon or whisky
  • 1 bottle good-quality BBQ sauce

Chop peaches and place in pot.  Add whisky and bring to boil.  Reduce heat and simmer until reduced a bit.  Add BBQ sauce.

Mix well with immersion blender until smooth.

Read the label on the BBQ sauce.  Look for good ingredients.

I think a hot and spicy BBQ sauce will work better than a sweet sauce, but…  use your judgement.

Tomorrow, a friend from work will be giving me a couple of bottles of hand-crafted root beer.  I’m going to attempt the Root Beer BBQ sauce again.

I’m brave.