Christmas music plays softly in the background as we work our way through the store, looking for socks for Hubs. White Hanes ankle socks, please. There's no place in our town to get them.
We're doing some holiday shopping in the city, where there is much more selection, lower prices, and lots and lots of people. It seems as though the population of our entire town is crammed into this one Zellers store.
A crowd of people surround a bin full of red mittens-not just any mittens, mind you, but Olympic mittens! Just $10! Support the Canadian athletes with the purchase of your very own mittens!
Jake gawked at the crowd surrounding the bin, all pushing and shoving their way through to grab a pair and try them on. Some had hand baskets overflowing with red mittens as they shoved and jostled each other for position.
"They are like cattle around a feed bag," Jake giggled. "Want some mittens, Mom?"
"I don't need mittens. I don't even like mittens. I'd rather have the chance to actually go to Olympics, not wear a stupid pair of mittens supporting a games that's so freaking expensive that the average Vancouverite can't even afford to attend." I tossed the pair I was holding back into the bin.
"Amen!" A man to my left held up a fist full of red wool. "But you know, they're only $10!"