Adventures in Adjusting

So it's not exactly true that I have no idea why I'm here. Maybe I just don't have a really good one.

Moving to Stickville is obviously requiring a sense of humor and some innate coping skills. Lucky me. Take yesterday, for example. I loaded up and drove 17 miles to the nearest Wal-Mart. (Yeah. So long Central Market.) I was in need of some hair dye (what's up with these random gray hairs?? I look like Cher.) Oh, and I also needed Pine Nuts. You know, for whipping up a batch of that delicious, zesty basil pesto that Giada What's-Her-Skinny-Italian-Butt makes on Food Network.

So I'm there, in Wal-Mart, and cannot find Pine Nuts. I look everywhere. Finally I flag down an associate. "Where do I find Pine Nuts?", I ask.

She looks flabbergasted. "Hon, I'm not sure what yer sayin'. Pine Nut??", she replies after some hesitation.

"Yes, ma'am," I say. "You know, for pesto," I add hopefully.

Yeah, she obviously doesn't watch Food Network. Ever.

Finally, she says, "Well, it's probably on Aisle 9 with the Bacon Powder."

Now it's my turn to look flabbergasted. I've heard of Bacon Bits, but Bacon Powder? What in the world do you sprinkle that on?? Is it a low-cal version of Bacon Bits?? Really, these country folk are a rare breed.

So, I take off in search of the Bacon Powder which could lead me to my elusive Pine Nuts. After about - an eternity - I find 2 little banged-up bags of Pine Nuts on Aisle 12. I toss them into the squeaky cart that sounds eerily similar to Sheryl Crow's voice and start to wheel away. Then I stop. I have to see this Bacon Powder. Maybe I'll even buy some. You know, as a true-faith gesture that I am assimilating into the culture here.

Then I catch it out of the corner of my eye. Squatty little canisters of powder. Of Baking Powder.

Omgosh, I'm an idiot.

Remember that part in Sweet Home Alabama where Reese Witherspoon says, "People need a passport to come down here"??? She's onto something.

I think I'll call or write my elected redneck representative today.