Kohls had lots of great sales going today. So while Pam was working, I was spending.

As I grabbed a shirt near the bottom of a stack, a pin stabbed my thumb. Deep. And then it started bleeding…and bleeding…and wouldn’t stop. I finally found a wastebasket with some of that flimsy paper they wrap within dress shirts. Wrapped it around my thumb, and the bleeding finally stopped.

Then I went to pay for my items.

The checkout girl asked, “Do you qualify for the senior discount?”

A few hours before, I’d had a good workout at the Y. I felt young, vigorous, and hale. But now…just how old did I look?

“It depends,” I responded, “on what age the discount starts.” After all, you can join AARP as soon as you turn 50.

“62,” the gal said.

I’m 53. But to her, I looked like I could be at least 62.

I decided I didn’t like Kohls anymore.

This afternoon I went to both the Scott’s and Kroger’s at Village of Coventry. I know, it sounds kind of redundant, since Kroger owns both and Kroger-branded items permeate the Scott’s shelves. But Scott’s didn’t have what I wanted, and Kroger did.

But I’m writing about the Salvation Army bell-ringers. They were great at both places–outgoing, friendly, not overbearing. I usually welcome their presence–not always, but usually. And these guys were good. Especially the one at Kroger.

I gave a buck at Scott’s, even though I left the store without buying anything. And gave another buck at Kroger.

Many years ago, I read something by Jill Briscoe, back when she traveled regularly as a Christian speaker. She said no matter what the offering was, she gave at least a dollar. If the offering plate was passed, for whatever reason, she found at least one dollar to give. I’ve tried to copy that principle. It doesn’t have to be a dollar, but something.

So every time I pass a Salvation Army bucket, I give. Whenever the fireman are out on the road with their boots, collecting for Jerry, I grab a handful of change and toss it in. When someone’s out there personally collecting, I try to help. As opposed to getting that phone call from the Police Benevolence Association, or whatever it is; I never give over the phone, unless it’s Huntington University.

We shouldn’t be too attached to our money. That’s the principle.

Ran a mile Tuesday, 1.25 on Thursday, and 1.5 today. Ankle doing fine. Fingers crossed.

Not that I’m tearing up the track. This morning, one gal who was running lapped me around five times. The more I ran, the more it seemed that:

1. I was running slower and slower.
2. She was speeding up.
3. Both of the above.

I’m quite sure Point 1 was true. She lapped me, a fellow runner, more often than I lapped the people who
were just walking (including that lady who talked on her cellphone the
whole time). Pride, fortunately, is something I leave at the door when I enter the Y.

Kroger is doing it again. They own the Scott’s grocery store chain in Fort Wayne–bought it a few years ago. That included the Scott’s on Illinois Road, where Pam and I shop. It immediately went a little downhill, service-wise, but not too badly. Still a good store.

I know that store real well. I can find things. I have it down. Ask me where something is, and I can tell you.

Went there today…and they’re MOVING EVERYTHING AROUND. This is like the third time since they took over. Why would they do that? Why? Why do they insist on injecting so much tension into my grocery-shopping experience? Is not American life difficult enough without the uncertainties inherent in rearranging the store? My beloved grocery store, once a comfort zone, will now become a mystery. Again.

I imagine some corporate dead-ender did a consumer-behavior study, complete with hidden cameras and eye-tracking and who knows what else, and the conclusion was: we need to move stuff to a different location. Put the paper goods where the pickles were. Move the cereal two aisles over. Put the coffee next to the flour. Consumer-behavior studies give detailed ramifications.

When I went through the checkout line today, the checker, talking points memorized, was assuring people, “It’ll be a good change. You’ll like it when it’s done.”

No, it won’t be a good change. Because in another year, just after I once again figure out where everything is, some corporate guy will do another consumer-behavior study, and it’ll show that things still aren’t in the right place. The cereal is still on the wrong aisle, and flour and coffee just don’t work together. You’ll determine that this “good change” is actually all wrong, that it is mortally flawed. And you’ll move things around again.

Just quit it, okay? The store is fine the way it is.

Being a Communications Director, I really needed to get aboard the smartphone express. I was missing out on all kinds of communications stuff, not to mention the ability to post work-related stuff from practically anywhere.

So over the weekend, I got an iPhone 3GS. And I must say: this thing is amazing. And it syncs so nicely with my desktop Mac–contacts, photos, email accounts, databases, you-name-it.

I had never done texting before on my old phone. So yesterday I sent my niece Paula, home with her newborn Owen, a text. She replied very quickly. Said texting can be addicting.

It’s great to be able to Twitter from anywhere. I’ve even posted a couple photos to TwitPic directly from my iPhone. Pix of my cats, of course.

The array of downloadable apps is incredible. For news, my favorite is the USA Today app. The Facebook app does great at checking status messages. I’ve got nearly 50 apps so far, most of them freebies.

We use DeliciousLibrary to catalog our home library of about 1500 books. A neat little app enabled me to move the entire library to the iPhone. Now, if I ever wonder, “Do I already have this book?”, I can just consult my iPhone.

I may even use the iPhone to make phone calls.