Monthly Archives: February 2018

I headed out this afternoon to our local Walmart near the Madison County line to buy a mailing tube for a photo print.  Here were the highlights from the trip:

• On the way to Walmart, I drove past the restaurant at the bottom of the hill where we used to buy our pizzas.  The WE DELIVER neon sign in the window was lit up as usual.  One time when I was picking up a pie there, I commented to the owner about the sign and asked him when they had started delivery service.  He told me that they don’t deliver and hadn’t done so in years.  I noticed that the sign had its own electrical plug.  The owner has never bothered to unplug it.  Perhaps he delivers, in his own way.

• When I got to Walmart, I headed to the section where the office supplies were.  Were is the operative word, since they used to be there but not anymore.  But luckily there was an associate nearby — she told me that the office supplies had been relocated to the corner of the store.  I asked her about mailing tubes specifically and she replied, yes, they are there.  Of course, when I got to the office supplies section, I found no mailing tubes.

• As I headed back to my car, I passed a woman wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with the words GOD ABOVE ALL ELSE in faded five-inch capital letters.  It was homemade.

• I headed over to the nearby Publix market on the off-chance that they had mailing tubes. Turning into the lot, I followed what was probably the largest pickup truck I’ve ever seen. Its bulging jet-black body showed no sign of ever having picked up anything other than its owner.  And in the window behind the driver’s seat was this stark black-and-white decal: NOT SPONSORED BY MOMMY & DADDY.

• Publix had no mailing tubes either (it was an off-chance, after all) so I decided to head downtown to Staples.  Driving southbound into Asheville on I-26, one is greeted by a sign at the I-240 interchange that promises VISITOR INFORMATION if one stays to the left:I stayed to the left, not because I need information but because that is the fastest way to get to Staples.  But information-seeking visitors who heed this sign are presented with a more difficult choice just 1000 feet down the road:

Oh Gracious Lord!  Which way should one turn for VISITOR INFORMATION?  Should one head Downtown or follow the Expressway?  Unlike the last fork, there is no helpful signage here.  As a visitor looking for information, what path would you choose?

I think most people, if using their common sense instead of their GPS or Gracious Lord, would choose the Downtown ramp.  But those people would be wrong.  To get to the Asheville Visitor Center from southbound I-26, one must use the I-240 eastbound ramp, then quickly merge into the left lane of I-240 and cross two lanes of expressway traffic in less than 1500 feet to exit the freeway and navigate to the Visitor Center via city streets.

Apparently, visitors to Asheville are more than able to execute this challenging maneuver, as we seem to have no lack of their kind in these here parts.

• I get to Staples, pick up my mailing tube and fall into line behind a scrawny woman standing next to a rather beat-up Canon Pixma MX492 printer box at her feet.  There was one associate at the checkout.  I think, oh no, I’m going to be in line forever, but then I say to myself, GOD ABOVE ALL ELSE, and suddenly another checkout associate shows up!  (OK, I made up part of that last sentence.  It was the part in capital letters.)  Anyway, the scrawny woman starts to explain to the new associate why she is returning the printer.  Something about paper jams and error 5100.  The associate asks, do you have a receipt?  No.  Okay then, how about the credit card you used?  I used a debit card, she says.  Okay, says the associate, we will credit it to your debit card.  Some keystrokes later, the associate asks, are you sure this is the debit card you used to buy the printer?  Meanwhile, I am now purchasing my mailing tube from the other associate, who wants to know whether I have a Staples Rewards Card.  I say no and tune out the scrawny woman’s printer return story.

• As I was driving home from Staples, I thought of the time a few years back when I was walking into Lowes (across from Walmart near Madison County) and was approached by a thirty-something woman holding an item I cannot now recall.  She wanted me to take her item to the Returns Desk, get a cash refund and then come back out and give her the cash.  She had no receipt.  I told her I could not do that and resumed walking into the store.

• When I got home from Staples, I checked walmart.com and found that my local Walmart does not even carry mailing tubes in-store.  All in all, it was a disconsolate trip through the little town I live in.   At least I can say it was not sponsored by mommy or daddy.

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In spite of what my title suggests, this post is not another tired whine about how ZEN is not a valid Scrabble word even though JEEP is.  (ZEN is a proper noun, hence unplayable, whereas JEEP… well, you figure that out.)  Instead, this post presents an assortment of should-be-words, complete with definitions, that have popped up in my seven-letter tray during Scrabble games.  I encourage fellow Scrabblers to try playing these words against friendly opponents, especially after a second bottle of wine has been opened — who knows, these words sound so good they just might go unchallenged.

All of these come directly from my letter tray to you:

POTIFTO (n): a tuberous vegetable unsure of whether it is a yam or a sweet potato

EARKITE (n): Barack Obama on a parasail

EFFOTEL (n): worst hotel you ever stayed in

ITOILET (n): the last place a person drops her iPhone before buying a new one

AOUEIII (int): universal bungee-jumping cry

TOETURE (n): the act of tickling a person’s pedal extremities to make them talk

RETOPIA (n): an idyllic place where enlightened Buddhists live their second lives

PREGOLD (adj): pertaining to the year prior to becoming eligible for Medicare

RAMENZA (n): drug approved in 2003 for treating allergic reactions to Japanese noodles

BEGTIME (n): the several-minutes-long period when one’s child, after being tucked in for the night, pleads for one more story to be read

TRAMPUI (n): honey-flavored liqueur favored by hobos

RAILODE (n): boxcar-themed poetry favored by hobos

SHPUZKA (n): loose outergarment worn in anticipation of drama, as in, “You cad!  I’ve never been so insulted!  Waiter, bring me my shpuzka and get me a taxi!”

QINEDAY (n): day of the week (in the European Union, between Monday and Tuesday) when U need not follow Q

ASSIBOU (n): the rude offspring of a donkey and a reindeer

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