Spencers: Just What We Were Hoping to Find

On our way home from Memphis, Tennessee this afternoon, we exited I-55 at Grenada– not the Papermill Road exit, the real Grenada exit because we were looking for a Sonic. Mr. Big Food was in the mood for a shake. Sonic makes good shakes. Curiously, there is no Sonic in Grenada, least wise not one we could find.

We “discovered” Spencer’s.
Spencer’s makes great shakes!
Mr. Big Food had an ‘Elvis’ (peanut butter & banana), I had a chocoholic.

Good stuff. Cheaper than Sonic.

The trip to Memphis was interesting. Midtown at 9am is a ghost town. Mr. Big Food tells me it was once a boom town area. I can see how it once might have been. 

We encountered a diversity of folk around the medical center. One wonders what a smart, unattractive Chinese women, who has great difficulty speaking and writing English, thinks of Memphis, Tennessee. Has she been to Beale? Does she get the Elvis peanut butter and bananas shake joke? We ask no such questions of her boss/mentor, the Lady Indian Doctor.  She’s savvy.

The intersection of Mendenhall and Poplar is torn the f&*^ up. Getting in and out of Whole Foods was a challenge. Most of the regular parking lot is roped off. We found a parking space, but had to roll down the window to ask the little lady to please close her door so we could get in it. There were five cars behind us. She was sweet. As it turned out, we left at the same time. Mr. Big Food helped her move her cart and get situated before we backed up and got caught in the quagmire trying to get back on Poplar. 

We consider Memphis a BIG CITY. And even in the BIG CITY we mind our manners. I cannot tell you how many near cart collisions inside Whole Foods were acknowledged by, “Oh! Excuse me!” “I’m so sorry!” “No. You go.”

The notable exception to all this good manners stuff is people trying to cross/get back onto Poplar when three lanes have been reduced to one. 

Blah blah blah. And then we went to the western store in Southhaven. And then before we knew it, we were back on the Farm.

Meanwhile. Miss M reported that Missy had run away. Not really. Missy had just chased Sweetheart– the neighbor dog– down the driveway after she– Missy– had escaped through the door when the neighbor boys had come knocking with Sweetheart to ask if they– the boys– could fish in the lake, with our boat.

The boys brought Missy back.

As we rolled up the driveway, Mr. Big Food and I were chatting about the boys. I looked toward the lake and saw some  unusual colors near the bank. I backed up.

Either those kids were swimmin’ in the lake or they’d capsized 5′ from shore.