Detour

It happens to all of us and we somehow coop with unexpected changed. Some check their smart phone apps to find any disturbance to the force. Like checking the weather report, you don’t know what you got until you is out in it.

So I venture out, same time, same station, to wander the paths that deliver me to the Tummy Temple, but what is this? A sign crosses my way stating I am forbidden to cross here due to the big machinery with hooks to dig down into a pit normally paved and comfortable riding.

A gang of yellow vested hard hats peers into the hole with great discussion yet little activity. Massive dump trucks line the suburban curbs either waiting for delivery or receiving pounds of dirt and asphalt.

The automotive parade must stop and decided to turn left or right without instructions. I pause for a moment to view my options. I could ride down the sidewalk (a plus for two-wheel travel) or cross over into the opposing lane of oncoming traffic.

I choose the latter knowing I can always jump up on the curb to avoid collision (this is not my first rodeo) and pass the city workers wondering how long this project will take.

Detours are those unexpected events that can be bothersome or an adventure.

The next turn presented another blockade. I roll around another block and then turn into another ‘road closed’ sign. The neighborhood must be having a 2 for 1 sale on creating massive potholes?

Being a nice day and plenty of time to waste, I wove back and forth through the path of destruction (construction?) and arrived at the Tummy Temple without further adieu.

That is not the end of the story.

After locking up my pony and finding a zip cart and testing a scanner to make sure it works, I now venture into the set of American’s Movie. I know where what I have come to collect is located but sometimes it just is not easy to get there.

People on telephones are the best. They have come into a shelter of food to call someone to donate their location. Without the shelving and the packages, this is an airplane hanger with a leaking roof.

Next group are the bumper car crowd. They are bused in tiny buses to drive these electronic scooters back and forth (and backwards) to fill the aisle with mayhem.

Of course there are the men who are lost in the maze and only want to be delivered from the anxiety of purchasing grub.

Noticeably during the seasonally shopping have been the family groups. They are usually located in the junk food and sugar drink aisles.

On the right occasions, there are the cuties. Usually on a Sunday morning while their significant other is sleeping off the night before, they look at the produce but stop at the fixings for a big batch of Football Chili. They are still young enough for me to appreciate until they got two or three screamers in the basket.

I go over to the produce to pick my blueberries and it is packed, so I move over to another location expecting to come back for my daily order. Depending on the day or the availability of the package, I scan or go.

When I arrive at the Tummy Temple, I neither have a list or desire but an adventure to see what looks good for the day and what I can get out with before the rain comes.

Roam over to the ‘pre-made food’ section but the case is empty. There is no ‘road closed’ sign but there must be a construction problem or all the food went bad. Time to move on.

The juice aisle is open enough to get a few V-8 ‘spicy’ and will take the long trip around to the next aisle though there could be a shorter route. Knowing there will be an obstacle course to get through the chips and dips to the peanuts, I take my time and wait for those who have to decided between the regular size or the family gigantic size bag. No one reads the ingredients on this aisle.

Pass the dead animals and onto the frozen bagged not-fresh veggie I roll, trying not to bump into all the confusion around me.

Now and then I pause to take in this wonderment of humanity I will shortly leave until another day.

Some shelves don’t have what I’m looking for so I roll on. Parishioners who can’t decide between “Mighty Good Devil’s Delicious Delight” or the “Choc-a-logic Monster Overload with Double Dutch Dip” block some shelves. I’ll skip the ice cream because after several passes they don’t have “Coffee”.

By now you realize I enjoy the travels through the Tummy Temple?

Without being stressed or in a hurry, I can accumulate healthy items or momentary passion for junk upon a daily whim.

Stopping for a grandmother deciding on her diapers is not a roadblock but just a respectful turn around and go the other way.