After I dropped my son off at school, I decided to stop into Tractor Supply.  I Didn’t really have a shopping list, wasn’t really looking for anything specific, it was just a spontaneous move just to  see if there was anything I wanted or needed.  For those who have never been to a Tractor Supply, it’s like a farm supply store, a hardware store, and a Dollar General store had a three way love child and it certainly rivals Wal-Mart in the wide selection of people who frequent the place.  Here are the day’s sights:

• An incredibly large woman was in one of those motorized chairs.  Not to be mean, but when I say large, I actually am being kind.  Huge comes closer.  10 more pounds and I’m pretty sure she could influence the tides.  I watched her on her motorized chair and marveled at the technology she was using.  This woman was so big, she literally hung over the sides of the thing.  I just kept hearing “the little engine that could” in my head saying, “I think I can, I think I can…” as she forced it to move her around the store.  She was going into the clothing section, but was having issues trying to maneuver through the small spaces between the clothes.  She must have been gift shopping, because I am sure there is nothing in the clothing section of the entire store that would have fit her.  When a rack full of women’s sweaters wouldn’t get out of her way, I watched her intentionally drive straight into it with her cart, pushing it back and dropping sweaters all over the floor.  She seemed pleased.  As she backed up, she ran over one of the sweaters and I’m guessing a displaced hanger decided to fight back by wedging itself in the poor little cart’s wheels.  She seemed aggravated.  To fight off the insubordinate hanger, she pushed the cart back into full speed, freeing her scooter from the hangar while ramming the sweater rack again.  She seemed downright happy with herself.  This time, though, the sweater rack decided to fight back and nailed her right in the forehead with one of it’s protruding metal arms.  She seemed both hurt and pissed!  She cranked the wheel, threw it in reverse, and stepped on the gas.  Clearly, her fight or flight reflect had kicked in and she was trying to escape the wrath of the clothing display.  She seemed trapped.  At a whopping two miles per hour, the front of the cart came around and just kept going.  It bumped into another rack of clothes, making several items fall into the cart on the front of her scooter.  I kinda figured the store had decided had decided she would buy something to compensate for the wide swath of destruction she had just caused and added the items to her cart.  She seemed flustered.  She straightened out the wheel and headed out of the clothing section, casually tossing the unwanted items onto the floor as she motored on.  She seemed purposfully oblivious.

• I wandered into the shoe section, thinking I’d see if they had any sales on a good pair of winter work boots.  While looking at the selections, there were two girls that might have been in the early post-high school age.  I’m guessing they were sisters by their similar body types, faces, and their conversation.  They were discussing (arguing over?) a pair of boots that may or may not have met the stated needs of their father’s Christmas list.  Insulated?  Check!  Arch support?  Check!  Over the ankle top?  Check!  Leather shoe strings?  Check!  Then I heard daughter #1 point out the price.  Daughter #2, clearly the younger and perhaps favorite daughter, said, “yeah, but if we’re going in on it together, that’s just inside what we can afford”.  Daughter #1, not wanting to actually spend to the limit, pointed out they didn’t have the shoe in a half size, so they’d either have to buy him a shoe that was too tight or one that would feel like clown shoes.  Daughter #2 reminded her that they were for colder weather, so he’d have on thicker socks, making the half size too big actually right.  Daughter #1 was clearly aggravated with her sister for bringing logic into the decision making process and made her response that seemed designed to deflect from her self-centered approach to gift buying.  “I just don’t want to spend all of our money on something that’s not going to be good”.  Daughter #2 countered with “well, I don’t want dad to have to be outside all day with cold feet”.  Ouch!  It was clear that Daughter #2 had replaced logic with a full throated tug to the heartstrings.  That comment brought on a momentarily icy stare between the two.  I was sure Daughter #1 was wrestling with the image of money in her purse and the image of her father getting frostbitten toes.  Then, she spoke, slowly, “OK.  How about this as a compromise?  We’ll get him some heavy socks and maybe some gloves, then tell mom that we saw some boots that might work.  She’ll pay for the boots if we say we don’t have enough money.  Dad will get the boots, but with the money we save on not buying the boots, we can swing by Starbucks and get our nails done on the way home.”  I’m not sure if it was the Starbucks or the nail salon that was the key factor in making the decision, but daughter #2 smiled, hurriedly tossed the display boot back on the shelf, and said “where are the socks”?  Guess I was wrong about the whole “favorite daughter” thing…

• Any trip to Tractor Supply mandates a stroll down through their tool section.  Usually, it’s men and old farmers, looking for something specific, but at Christmas time, it’s can be just about anyone.  On this day, a mother and daughter (perhaps junior high age) were standing in the aisle while the mom studied a wall of screwdrivers with a perplexed look on her face.  When she noticed I was also looking, she apologized for being in the way.  I told her she was fine, that I wasn’t really looking at anything in particular and smiled.  She asked if I knew anything about chisels, because her husband wanted some for Christmas and she thought these looked good, but wanted to make sure.  I pointed out they were screwdrivers, not chisels, then asked “what kind of chisels is he looking for?  Chisels for woodworking or masonry chisels?”  Instantly, I realized the mom had no answer for that question and regretted starting the conversation.  I said, “he’s most likely looking for woodworking chisels” and pointed down the aisle toward where they were hanging.  In case I had guessed wrong, I suggested she keep the receipt and he can always replace them with the another kind of chisel.  She said thanks and they walked down to the woodworking chisels and started examining the foreign objects with the same perplexed look she had when looking at screwdrivers.  As I was walking past them to go to the next aisle, I heard the daughter say, “Those just look like something he’ll hurt himself with.  Why don’t we go look at a pair of work boots for him?”  Why not, indeed!  This could easily have been the wife and the third sister from the last two, but I can’t truly know for sure, because I left before I could hear if this daughter suggested they stop off for Starbucks and the nail salon on the way home.

• Snow has started to fall, so I thought I’d go look at what snow shovels they had.  My favorite snow shovel is getting worn down and my not-so-favorite snow shovel only works well for certain kinds of snow.  There was a couple, perhaps in their early to mid fifties, also looking at snow shovels.  It was pretty clear they disagreed on the proper shovel to select and I suspect that was the case with just about every decision they had to make together.  One argued price, the other argued the shape of the handle.  One argued the color, the other argued the strength of the plastic.  I had already decided these two would never find a snow shovel that would fit both of their wants when the wife blurted out, “This one is the biggest of all the shovels we’ve looked at, so your mother will be able to clear her driveway faster with it than any of the others.”  The husband mumbled, “OK, good point”, and put it in their cart.  Rather than being pleased that the couple had been able to make a decision without arguing in the middle of the aisle, all I could see was an image in my head of a woman pushing hard on 70, standing in the bitter cold of Central Illinois, trying to shovel her driveway with a brand new snow shovel that has a scoop on it that was almost as big as a bulldozer blade.  Then, I could clearly see her grabbing her strained back with one hand while clutching desperately at her chest with the other as she fell over into the newly shoveled snow pile.  Apparently nothing says “Love you, Mom!  Am I in your will?” better than a new snow shovel!

I was going to stop by Wal Mart for some groceries on the way home, but decided I’d had enough Christmas cheer for awhile…