It’s not my fault. There really is a national grocery store conspiracy.

If a salesperson handed you an empty bag and said: “Five dollars, please,” how would you react?

I’d say, “You’re nuts!” or something equally unflattering.

I refuse to go to depressing movies. If I’m going to spend my hard-earned cash, I expect to feel better for it, not worse.

Tradition. It’s a good, solid word.

I remember, when I was quite small, sitting at the old mahogany-veneered dining room table for dinner. The menu that night was shrimp.

“I don’t like it,” I said.

Yay! It’s finally snowing! Now I ask you, what kind of idiot reacts with glee to a potential disaster?

“I believe for every drop of rain that falls, a flower grows...” I love that old song, but do I believe it?

I just found out that I may be one of them! You know, the children of illegal immigrants. My great-grandmother was English, and she was married twice, not once.

“Oh, hello. Just a trim, please. Yes, I know that Mr. Mark isn’t in today, but that’s OK. I’m sure you’ll do a lovely job.”

There is a word in Yiddish for complaining and generally giving someone a hard time when you are displeased. That word is “kvetch,” which is a letter combination that you may need to practice.