The Mall Part II

Ahhh, the mall.

The song "Santa, Baby" playing in every store. Mr. Claus, himself, looking bored in his roped off wonderland and about three billion people patiently milling about in the Apple Store, waiting to plunk down enormous sums on the latest techno-gadget.

It was as I expected. I did encounter several department store "men" stumbling about helplessly but there was there was no "coupon lady" to be found. In her place, I witnessed an exhausted shopper have a total meltdown over the fact that there were too few cashiers in Macy's.  There were, as predicted, huge numbers of freshly-minted collegians on the premises--the girls squealing and exchanging air-kisses while the guys did the "bro-hug" and clicked budding antlers. If none of this makes sense, please refer back to yesterday's post--it will give you a frame of reference for shopping at virtually any mall across America during the holidays.

Every single year I forget how the combined scents in "Bath and Body" almost put me into pulmonary arrest and wander in to be instantaneously greeted cheerfully by dozens of manic salespeople. Almost immediately I am bid adieu by the same apron-clad army as I beat my way back to the exit, reeling from the coconut lime verbena and vanilla bean and lavender and cucumber melon and lemongrass and blackberry and hydrangea and pomegranate and mango mandarin and sensual amber and citron and honey suckle aIl battling to the death for olfactory domination.

I did find a place to sit and enjoy a bottle of water--miraculously, directly in front of Sephora (again, refer back to yesterday's post), squeezed between one, apparently dead man wearing a Northface jacket and another who was self-comforting, while his wife was choosing a lipstick, with Godiva chocolates. Despite the fact that I immediately began pointing to my mouth, rubbing my tummy and wiggling my eyebrows at him, he did not offer me a single one.

While sitting and sipping, I wanted to applaud a man who emerged, smiling, from the store clutching a little Sephora shopping bag that looked just the right size to contain a gift certificate buried in the colorful tissue. For all the men reading this, take a lesson--his wife will not want to disembowel him with a fireplace poker on Christmas morning...and, judging by the expression on his face, he knew it.

So, I did my thing, emerged alive and wish you all happy shopping, baking, decorating and Cash Cab watching (wait...that's just me, sorry). In other words, have a great weekend!!  And, thank you all for taking a few minutes each day to read my blog!