Say hello to my new little friends!
The kids are with Patrick’s family up north this weekend, so Patrick and I thought we’d have some quality time. We went for a nice breakfast this morning and on the way home decided to stop at the Ranch Market.
I lovvve, lovvve, lovvve Ranch Market. I lose myself there. It is a store like no other, all gourmet Mexican groceries, party supplies, fresh fish market, a bakery, and the coolest import items you will ever see this side of the border. This is where I buy my Chihuahua banks – but they have been out of them for a year-and-a-half. The last batch I had to buy on eBay for a ridiculous amount of money. I gave up hope.
We strolled in, holding hands, all lovey dovey, and then – I gasped and broke into a pogo dance of excitement. Patrick rolled his eyes. “Oh no,” he said. “Oh, YES!” I replied.
There, perched atop the seven-foot-tall dairy case sat not ONE, not TWO, not THREE, not FOUR – but about SIX Chihuahua banks peeking over the edge, beckoning my attention.
I ran over and put my foot on the rail to scale the side of the case when a young clerk rushed over and stopped me. He volunteered to get me the banks.
“How many would you like?” he asked.
“ALL OF THEM!!” I sang out, opening my arms up like Moses when he parted the Red Sea.
He chuckled and handed me every one. I noticed there were MORE at the other other end of the dairy case.
“Let me go get you a cart, plus I need a ladder,” the clerk said. He knew I wanted the others too. Kinda obvious, I guess.
Patrick walked behind me as I snapped a picture of the banks on display. I looked down the crowded aisle to see a security guard approaching, and the young clerk behind him. The security guard confronted me to warn that absolutely NO pictures were allowed. He seemed grumpy. The clerk scooted him out of the way and propped the ladder against the case.
Next thing I knew, the clerk was standing ON TOP of the dairy case. He scrunched over so his head would not hit the ceiling. He hollered to me, while holding on to a tall copper horse for balance, “Hey, there’s about a dozen more up here! Want them??”
That’s the spirit! I thought. I wanted to take a picture of this scene soooo bad, but the security guard crowded my space, and I didn’t want to risk being thrown out of Ranch Market and losing my banks. So… just imagine the scenario, OK?
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I squealed, clapping my hands.
Patrick shook his head, left the aisle. I think he felt embarrassed. Um, whatever!
The clerk handed me the rest of the banks and I gently layered them in my cart. I then held the ladder so he could climb back down to safety. He asked me what I did with them and I explained that I covered them in glitter. He didn’t quite know how to respond.
Anyhoo – get this…
I turned around to haul away my goods and saw a lady PICKING OUT THE BANKS FROM MY CART!
Appalled, I told her she could have *one*. My mama taught me to share, and I didn’t want to steal the opportunity of Chihuahua bank joy from others, right? One seemed very generous to me.
This lady took FIVE! She dang picked over each one and plucked them out as if she were choosing avocados to make guacamole. She reached for 1 of 2 black Chihuahua banks that resembled my little Bootsie. I shooed her hand away. “Please,” I begged. “Not that one, I want that one.”
The security guard, Patrick and the clerk noticed the tension. They waited with baited breath, wondering if there would be a ChiChi smackdown and when they should intervene to prevent it.
“Let the woman have her dog banks,” her husband said, tugging at her elbow.
I smiled and told her to enjoy her banks. She must really dig Chihuahuas. I had the fever too when I first saw the banks, I could relate. Plus, I still had a hecka lotta them in my cart. I’m trying to save some cash for next week’s cruise.
“Thanks!” she said, as her husband pulled her away. She had a look in her eye that she would try to take one more if I didn’t swoop out of there. I spun around and headed for the other direction.
I reached the check-out and counter and happily lined up my army of banks on the conveyor belt. My hands acted on their own – I swear my brain told them to stop – and pulled out my camera and snapped a picture. Patrick scolded me and left for outside, mad.
My turn to pay arrived amidst the gawkers (hello, they are just banks!). The larger banks were not priced. The cashier called over the manager, and she gave a number that was $3 higher than what I paid last time. I informed her and she apologized and said she had to charge me that amount because she just charged another lady that price (yup, the same one who snatched them from my cart).
I quickly inspected every bank and found one that had the correct (lower price). I ended up paying less, while the other lady paid $15 too much. I did not wish it on her. I chalked it up to karma!
When I exited the store, Patrick had his maddog attitude going on. Between the clerk having to climb on top of the display case, the security guard following my every move, and the two dozen Chichuahua banks – I guess he didn’t see this adventure as “quality time”.
“Can’t we ever come here without a scene?” he asked. “I wanted to ask that clerk to give me banks and put you up on top of the dairy case. With a price tag!”
On the drive home, he asked me what I plan to do with them. I told him maybe I’d decorate them, do a gallery show and auction them off, donate the proceeds. Maybe have a Chihuahua art night. He started to share ideas. We brainstormed awesome game plans and then recanted the Ranch Market experience, play-by-play. We laughed until our sides hurt.
Whew! Patrick had loosened up. He even admitted to be happy we bought them. “You know what this means though, right?”
“Huh?” I asked.
“What you did today – it totally solidifies you as the Crazy Chihuahua Lady. no. Make that, the Crazy CRAFTY Chihuahua Lady!”
Peace, love, and glitter!
P.S. I love Chihuahuas so much, we even have a patch on our product line! Patrick drew it!