Shopping With My Mom

I hate shopping.  Being in a shopping mall or any department store reduces me to a zombie or borderline functioning vegetable.  Some people can stay in a store for hours.  My mom is one of those people.  I have been in a Petco with my mom shopping for six hours.  Spending six hours in Petco is not an easy task.  It requires much patience.  Patience is vital for staying on the path and having faith. 

  In this busy, fast-paced modern life we lead, sometimes we find ourselves rushing hither and thither so much it’s hard to slow down.  I find myself caught up with the, “let’s go, let’s go” attitude, always having to be rushing off to the next thing or next appointment, new stimulation.

  To overcome my impatience I go Zen shopping with my mom.  Go into any store with her and she will look at EVERYTHING.  She will talk to EVERYONE.  She will spend hours searching for that elusive one perfect item that is never easy to find.  If you go into a shoe store with her, expect to help her try on every shoe in the store.  This is not an exaggeration.    

  It used to be my mom would ask me to take her shopping and I’d cringe.  I always stamped a time frame on it by telling her I had an appointment afterwards to keep us moving along in the store.  Now I look forward to her shopping sessions because it is really a massive test for my patience.  It’s like a person who has fear of cats being locked in a room with cats for eight days with catnip in their underpants.  

  The funny part about being in Petco with my mom for six hours was the fact that, when we finally made it to the check out line, all my mom was really getting was dog food for her poodle, Molly!  But understand, she didn’t just look at dog food.  She looked at all the dogs, the cats, the dog and cat toys, the birds, the fish, the insects and creepy crawlies, the mice, the rats, the bedding, the cups, dishes, dispensers, shampoo, soap, cages, etc.  She studied and pondered over twenty-five different types of dog food.  She picked the clerk’s brains until there was nothing left to pick.   

  My mom doesn’t care.  When she enters a store her concept of time disappears.  She can go into a Wal-Mart, and if someone isn’t there to escort her out, she could be lost for months in there.  Like that Japanese soldier on the island in the Pacific after World War Two is over, he has no reference point of time, so forty years after the cease fire, he’s still fighting on. 

  Time stands still for my mom in a store.  It is never the mercenary way of get in, get out.  That’s the way I like to handle my shopping.  My mom is all about infiltration.  Like a spy who has to personally handle every detail and  talk to every contact.  That’s how she gets the job done.

  The other day we went into Trader Joes to get my mom’s special butter.  She has to have organic, raw butter that hasn’t been pasteurized, for health reasons. 

  Four hours later she is leaving with a full shopping cart of food and other items she found along the way. 

  I am going to recommend my mom hire out her services to people who are impatient, to train them to overcome it.  She could make a fortune.