There is something brave in going to the supermarket in a small town on a Saturday. There are no parking space, except at the end of the lot. There are people with their dogs in the shopping cart. There are a random assortment of people instead of the normal ones you are used to seeing all the time. I actually did not see one person I knew except my youngest step son. Lucky for me he's big and hard to miss because if he were say the size of a normal human, he would have blended with the tourists and folks in town to see mom, the mountains, helen, the car show, the picnic at the state parks, family fun at the water park (yes, we have a water park), the scenic routes with quaint fruit stands on the side of the road that have been owned by the same family for generations. There were people stopping and starting at odd intervals, trying to drag carts out of the way. The congestion in the aisles was that of gridlock in downtown Atlanta on a Friday at three o'clock. What ever happened to get your groceries before you get there? I mean really, that's just ridiculous. Courage, I tell you. Courage. I dare you to go into the Ingles on a Saturday afternoon when there's not a cloud in the sky and in a tourist-sort-of town. See if you get out alive...ain't easy. Ain't gonna doit again.