Don't just sit home alone ordering your grocery list from a computer – come on down to the Food Lion grocery store in Milton! See people and get creative ideas from the many items you'll find in the aisles.

There you will enjoy theater at the deli counter where Miss Shirley works. She's the lady in the ever-changing colored bandanas. We had become friendly when she began calling me "hat lady" for the unique hat I wore in the winter. Now she even wants me to wear it in the summer!

It was a hand-knitted wool hat created by women in the mountains of Tibet that my daughter Misty bought for my birthday in one of those hippie shops in Woodstock, N.Y., when she was a student at Bard College. I would still be wearing it if I hadn't lost it, probably in the eye doctor's parking lot. My eyes were blurry from the eyedrops they gave me, and I was wearing those weird-looking black plastic sunglasses to go home. I later looked in their lost-and-found box to be thorough, but no luck. I had the hat for many years and was so obsessed, I checked the drawer where it rested a couple of times a week, even in the summer. I was so attached to it, but maybe it wasn't so attached to me!

Maybe I lost it in the Tibetan restaurant where we dined on the cold, snowy Friday night before? We went back to the restaurant and inquired about it, and searched under the booths, not caring about the weird looks we got. Oh well, maybe it was picked up there by someone from Tibet and returned to its native land by some weird karma.

What would Miss Shirley think when she noticed I wasn't wearing it? "Where's that hat, Baby Girl?" she would ask. It would take some explaining, to be sure! It's red, white and gray, and has a very large tassel, if you ever see it. If you ever find it, I'll reward you with one of my hand-crafted pins of your choice! No questions asked!

To get back to the deli, I once saw Miss Shirley loading a big tray of shiny chickens into the oven ready for barbecuing. She didn't want her picture taken, but it would have been a great one! The last time I was there, she was talking to the crew about what she called "chicken milk."  When I asked her what that was, she said it was the buttermilk they soak the chicken in before frying it.  

Anyhow, I can't fry chicken like my mother used to. Back in the day, she would purchase what was called a "frying chicken." It was a smaller chicken meant just for frying that would be easier to "get done," something very important for fried chicken. In the case of fried chicken in my particular opinion, "Bigger is not better." Who wants to tackle the drumstick or wings the size of a Canada goose's? 

Once there was even a sale on whole chickens that challenged the prospective shopper to be brave and cook the whole chicken from scratch themself! The barbecued chickens that you can carry home in a convenient bag with a handle like a big handbag are a godsend, easier by far to put on the table or store in the fridge. They smell so mouthwatering wonderful; they are great when you're tired or it's hot outside. Make sure you get to the store in time, because they fly out fast near dinnertime!

I was recently at the store when a lady was looking for salt pork. The young butchers were unfamiliar with this, so a seasoned, older, down-home butcher was found, but I had already led the woman to the packages of salt pork. She was going to make corn chowder with it. I use it mostly for a pot of pole lima bean succotash. I once asked my mother why not just use the more easy-to-find bacon, and she said that was too expensive for just soup. I didn't think she was that thrifty!

Anyway, if you want to find salt pork or other southern items like ham hocks or soup bones, go to the back of the store and look in the big freezer. I call myself the "grocery store librarian," because I often help people find things in the store since I go there at least every week.

Once there was a man looking for a jar or two of beets. He said he eats three or four beets a day to fortify his blood, and they make your complexion rosier. I found them for him and told him I was the "grocery store librarian." "Oh, so you're a librarian," he said. "No, I'm just the grocery store librarian," I replied. "I help people find things sometimes, like books in a library."

The next week I encountered him walking backward down an aisle asking someone else for help. He almost walked over me. "Oh, you're that librarian," he said. "No, I'm an artist and a writer, not a librarian," I answered. He walked off, none the wiser.

Such are the tales of the Food Lion follies.