As Belle prepares to graduate from college this weekend my brain has been pelting me with random memories, such as the following story (which Belle might categorize as you’re never too mature or academically successful to have your parents embarrass you.)
Dateline: two years ago. MHN I have traveled to a small Southern Oregon college to attend one of Belle’s rugby games.  During the halftime break MH and I are tossing a rugby ball back-and-forth with Belle, who is showing us one of the team’s ball-handling drills. I make an errant throw to MH, who chases the ball downfield. One of the young women from a group of Belle’s teammates sitting by the side of the field looks at Belle, then at MH and moiself, and the proverbial light bulb appears above her head.
She calls out to me.
Young Rugby Woman: Hey, are you…you’re Belle’s parents?
Moiself: Indeed, we are.
YRW: Oh, I love Belle! Thank you so much for making her!
Moiself: It was our pleasure. Literally.
Belle: Moooooooom !!
* * *
Department Of Things That Would Never Happen At New Seasons
I ran over to the market closest to our house ( let’s call it Albertson’s  ), to pick up a couple of last minute items. There were two young men working in the produce department, standing beside carts loaded with boxes of lettuce and other veggies – items they were trimming and setting out on the various produce display shelves. One of the Produce Guys looked up at me, noticed the looking-for-something expression on my face, and asked me if he could be of any assistance.
I thanked him, and asked where I could find the organic basil. He pointed behind himself, toward the tomatoes stand, then asked me if there was anything else he could help me find. Why yes, as a matter of fact. I’d noticed there were a plethora of golden beets on display, but I needed three bunches of red beets, and there was only one. Mighty there be more red beets in the back?
“Yeah,” Produce Guy grinned, “there’s another box of red beets in the back.” He continued to trim the lettuce from his cart. “But as you can see,” he glanced over at the Other Produce Guy, “We are in the middle of a pallet right now, so it’s going to be a while before we can get to it.”
I could see that he was busy, but why ask me if he could help me find something if he had no intention of leaving his precious pallet? My kneejerk thought was, Yeah, right – this would never happen at New Seasons. 
A rare kneejerk reaction that was spot-on. Any NS employee you ask for help will drop what they are doing to lead you to the proper aisle, or let you sample a new produce item you’re not sure about, even if they are doing something else or what you are asking about isn’t in their department.
* * *
Addendum To The Previous Story
It is entirely possible that Produce Guy’s customer service fail was due to him being shocked by a heretofore unimaginable situation: someone wanted more beets.
* * *
Department Of Previews Of Coming Attractions
* * *
Department of Versed Mouth, aka
Department Of Things They Say You Said When You Were Under The Influence
Of Versed After Your Routine/Screening  Colonoscopy…
And How Do You Know They Aren’t Lying To You?
* I have lazy mouth
* I like hummus, too (when asked by the nurse if I’d like saltine crackers)
* Why are there little dogs in the hospital? 
* Where do we keep the shovels?
* * *
May you never be too old to embarrass – or take pride in – your
soon-to-be college graduate;
May you experience nothing but the finest in beet-finding customer service;
May there be dragon boats in your future;
…and may the hijinks ensue.
Thanks for stopping by. Au Vendredi!
* * *
 She was on the team for ~ two years – we have the ER/Urgent care bills to prove it – until injuries sidelined her.
 Because, it is.
 Where we do the bulk of our grocery shopping…for many reasons, including their awesome staff.
 Yeah, they call it that. I don’t know about you, it’s just not part of my “routine” to have someone, even Qualified Medical Professionals ® stick a tube up your butt and watch pictures of it on a monitor.
 Well, yes, a totally legitimate question, IMHO. And don’t tell me they were emotional support animals.