I went to the local boutique supermarket near where I grew up this morning to pick up some half-and-half for my Starbucks and there was Santa walking around the “open house”.  I could barely walk to the refrigerator aisle without sampling the fudge.  And then there was the toasted raisin bread; the pretzels dipped in cheese; the free baklava demonstration from the chef; the free coffee; and the “Merry Christmas” I received from the lady at the check-out.  Then I heard a little boy cry out nearby, “Dad, there’s Santa.  He’s here!  He’s here!  I don’t believe it!  Santa is here!!!!”  I walked out smiling about how much I loved growing up here in northwest Indiana.  And now The Chestnut Song sung by Nat “King” Cole is playing.  I love it.

The best part was, that I actually got in and out of the store without getting lost.  I typically have no clue where to get anything at the grocery store and I have to make several laps at the heads of the isles to read the hanging signs.  The thing was, the signs never told me where the cumin was and Lara insisted that it was next to the artichokes or some other obscure food product that required a degree in criminal law to track down and find.  A kind of CSI Grocery.  Thankfully, today’s  “Mission Impossible: Grocery Edition was simple.  I chose to except it.  And I came out unscathed.  With the exception of a little residue of a free sample of fudge on my palate.  I love that part.  Free samples always make the mission worthwhile.  Except when you scorch the roof of your mouth on the free pizza bite that just came out of the burner …