Wednesday, March 29, 2006

We're Here


After weeks of anticipation, our move to the Twin Cities has finally become a reality. When not buried in a heap of boxes, books, toys, and diapers, we have ventured out and have begun to experience the Minnesota culture. Our favorite discovery thus far is our local grocery store, Byerly's. It. Is. Beautiful. Aisles and aisles of amazingly tidy food displays. Super friendly clerks and bag-persons dressed as though they just came out of a business meeting. And . . . wait for it . . . they put your bagged groceries on a little conveyor belt, which travels to the outside of the store, where a very jolly employee places it into the trunk of your car. Yup. You do pay dearly for your groceries at this establishment, but the service is QUITE nice (second only to Trader Joe's).

Thus far, we have encountered the "Minnesota Nice" factor in the people we have met. Most of said people have been either working at Target or Byerly's, and therefore are paid to be nice. However, I never, ever encountered a nice person working at Target in Southern California. Our checker at the Minnetonka Target was a very pleasant 60-something woman, who told us, "Welcome to Minnesooota. We have really great schools here." Even the paid-to-be-nice Byerly's employees seem exceptionally sweet. The woman who sold me a no-nut supreme brownie asked if I would prefer an end or middle piece. This made me happy.

We also spent a bit of time today at the bastion of American consumerism . . . the Mall of America. One word: Large. The place is massive, with a giant theme park right in the center of the mall. Miss Peanut spent the entire trip repeating, "I don't want to go on the rolly coaster. But, when I'm bigger, Daddy will take me on the rolly coaster. I don't want to go on the rolly coaster." She didn't seem to understand that we weren't going to patronize the amusement park on our short visit, but that we wanted a general overview. She is adjusting to the move fairly well, but she thinks that Minnesota is our apartment. When we drive about, she will remark from the back seat as to whether or not she wants to go "back to Minnesota" so that she can play with her toys. Moves are hard things for little folk to understand. Soon, however, the boxes will be emptied and we will be able to spend some concentrated time just *being* with the little Peanuts. A sweet thing to anticipate.

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