When I go to Smith's, I can find a large selection of cheeses. I can find the flavors of Bolthouse brand juices I like (at the better price, too). I can find hard rolls, usually. Best of all, they have the self-checkout.

At Albertson's, I can find more of what I want in the prepared food section. They have better prices on grape juice (the 100% stuff, not the 10% or 25% crap). Their store-brand peanuts are better.

Macey's has El Rio nacho cheese.

Wal-Mart has a ton of stuff, pallets in the aisles, and mostly kitchen filler.

None of the stores carries New York Style Crumbcake by Entenmann's. I have to go to the Smith's in Park City to get that. What the heck is up with that?

I live near an Albertson's, so it's quick to get to, but they take forever to check out your purchase. Smith's is three miles away on a road that often stops you at every red light. They have the self-checkout I like, and they give you a discount at their gas station. But they don't have some of the things I regularly look for.

Harmon's has a store on the other side of town. I don't go there.

Macey's is extremely hard to get in and out of. They seem to be busy all the time. The 10-person families frequent their stores. They have kids working the checkouts who can't ring up beer. Oh, and they look at me funny when I did buy beer there (before the state moved it to the liquor store).

I need one place.

I need an Albersmith's. I need a Harmacey's. I need a Wal-Mart minus the Wal. An Alberharmasmithceys.

And it needs to be easy to get and and out of. If I have to turn left out of your parking lot, I want a street light to let me out. Skip the 20 registers - you never use them anyway - and stock me up with more than four self-checkouts. I don't need to mountain-climb over cereal boxes just to get in. Carts should be on the right side of the entrance, or in the middle. None of this "carts are kept on the left side where people are walking out" crap.

I need options. I want grape juice in sizes from eight ounces up to double gallons. I want price tags that give me the per-unit price breakdown - I want to know when cereal costs 19 cents an ounce, or whatever it is. I want good store brands that really do taste like name-brands. I want to walk in and walk out with an entire meal. I'd like a once-through salad and lunch bar (no one seems to do that like Kroger's back east - incidentally, they own Smith's here in the west).

I really really want more cart returns. One every other stall would be good. Oh, and people who don't return carts - handicaps exempt - need to be pelted with bean bag sacks. Parking aisles really are wide enough to U-Park into a spot. Any car found sitting waiting for a parking space will be rolled away with conveyor belts in the asphalt. Speed bumps will be eliminated, but so will having a strip of road for jackasses who feel they need to speed by the front door like it's their god-given right to drive like a moron. There will be road there to cross, but cars won't be allowed to drive on it. They get to go down to the back of the parking lot, where they can avoid pedestrians. Oh, and people will be required to look both ways when exiting the doors, regardless of the fact that cars are banned from that area.

I want a VIP card that doesn't fall apart, and doesn't need to be linked with my keys. Hire a genius to sit at the front who will recall your name and VIP number when you walk in and when you check out. It can be a robot, if needed.

Have a real pharmacy.

Put in a coffee shop. Have a real book and magazine section.

Don't play thunder every time you water the greens in produce.

Skip the ten aisles in the back that no one goes through.

And most of all - of the things I want...

Stock it all.

P.S. Don't forget to buy El Rio nacho cheese.

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I don't hesitate to mention that I used to work in the hardware business. I worked for two stores years ago - one a full-fledged hardware store, the other more specialized but similarly focused on a smaller scale.

When I moved to Utah, I was under the assumption that someone with 10 years of experience in that field would quickly find a job in a hardware store, but no one seemed interested. I moved on, to some extent, but now I find hardware stores entirely fascinating.

Last September, a store popped up out of nowhere. Here in Orem. Despite my daydreams of where I would put a hardware store, someone went and built one right at Center street and I-15. Even more, it was a Do It Best brand store, which was a brand I was affiliated with at the second store in my hardware tenure.

I make no secret of the fact that I've had two dreams in my life: writing, for one. And owning a hardware store was the other. These last several years, I've thought about all the places I would have liked to set up a hardware store, but never had the money to bother trying. Then, out of the blue, one showed up in town.

I have to admit, I was curious. I wanted to stop by. I'd even made plans to stop by on a few occasions, but somehow found other plans to make. Tonight, however, I finally made it to the new store in town.

Oh. My. God.

If any place has ever gotten close to the way I imagine having my own hardware store, this was it. I was floored by their selection. I was impressed by their layout. I was interested to find a staff ready to help. I was excited to find the owner walking the aisles ready to help, and with me, talk about the business a bit.

I came in looking for some knobs for the new bifold doors I installed a week ago. And some rope. I found rope and a lot more.

OK, I found a new place to haunt whenever I need something. Honestly, they had the things I've been looking for since I moved to Utah. Things I can't find in a big store.

So, given the experience I had in the store tonight, I figured I'd give a strong mention for those in the Utah County area to check out Parley's Hardware in Orem.

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Ask for Parley. He'll be the guy in the overalls, ready to help.

Pencil to paper.

I really don't write anymore. I used to write all the time, but these days I exclusively "write" on the computer instead.

There's something peculiar about writing with pen or pencil. My mind goes so fast that I often don't even know what I'm typing. But on paper, I can't help but go slow - I have no choice. Still, my mind wanders while finishing a hand-written sentence. I can think a new thought amid the technical aspect of writing words and letters. In other words, I can write and think almost simultaneously.

I'm also so distracted while at the computer. Here, on paper, my only distractions are my own thoughts. Interesting how that works. If I could write faster, perhaps I could fit more actual writing into the time I would have otherwise wasted in front of the computer.

Or maybe not...

Written in my writing notebook on the date indicated.

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In past dreams, the store takes on alternate forms from its original design. It's always the same space, just not always the same floor plan. Once, in the dream, the store was as bare as an upscale clothing store. Other times, the store is overrun with knick knacks which were more the country hardware store than the one I actually worked at.

I've been having dreams about returning to the old hardware store every night for at least a month. It started just after my wedding in January, and has been a nightly feature since. Interestingly, since these dreams started, I found and reconnected with my old boss from the hardware store. The store was shut down in 2000, and the building was destroyed sometime after I moved to Utah in 2002. There's a gas station at that corner now - and no resemblance of the space that I worked at for so long.

Dreaming, for me these days, is commonly a cognizant state for me - meaning, when I'm dreaming at night, I'm fully aware that I'm dreaming. Sometimes, I find myself taking control of the dream; sometimes, I let the dream play out fully aware of the state I'm in. Each of these hardware store dreams have happen under full awareness.

Last night, the dream returned. This time, I went right to work on the service issues - fixing window screens, sharpening tools, and more - something I did for that company for many years. I was interrupted by the owners knocking down a wall in my area. Suddenly, there was a six-foot gap between the building wall and the back of the shelving systems which consisted of the paint department. That gap was never really there, and knowing it wasn't, I was quite curious about why it had come out of nowhere. But even more, I was curious as to why they were knocking down the walls in my work area.

The owners wanted to make room for new product. They felt that it was time to expand their business offerings. After so many years of just trying to get by, they were willing to take a chance and expand.

What bothered me was the fact that the younger owner - the son - seemed fully aware that I knew the difference between what was once reality and what was being done in the dream. He seemed to recognize that it was a dream, and not reality. He told me something about the expansion being necessary to move forward.

I was still in control of the dream, but I was so bothered by a character in my dream knowing it was a dream that I woke myself up. It was about 5AM. Mentally, I was awake from the time I woke up until it was time to get out of bed and deal with getting my daughter ready for school. I slept lightly, as best I could, but found that I was very disturbed by the dream. In fact, I've come to find all of these dreams disturbing. I wish I could dream about something else. I'm mildly tired of the the subject, but mostly, I'm upset that the dream is having such a profound effect on me that I can wake myself from deep sleep (some who know me well know that waking me up is no easy feat).

I'm trying to determine if the hardware store is something of a home for me. In years past, I return to the hardware store when work in the waking world is difficult. When others dream of their childhood home, I dream of a random house I've never lived in, or I seem to spend all my time in that hardware store. Do I have a home to dream of? Or am I going to continue to dream about a place that doesn't exist any more, in a time now past, in an industry that's changed, for people I haven't seen in a decade, doing something that is no longer a viable option for me?

Why does this dream linger the way it does?

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It's the kind of thing you can feel around you, surrounding you. Like the pressure of water against your entire skin, you can sense its existence. There is no air, no separation, between you and it. It seems to have engulfed you. It just hasn't become obvious yet.

A story isn't a linear imagination. It's no collection of points of interest along a journey through someone's reality. It's a jumbled sequence of thoughts, emotions, encounters, and near-misses with little else in common save the narration. It's an empty cup, filled with the mere belief that its liquid exists. It takes the reader to pour the wine. The writer only constructs the vessel.

Somewhere, the knowledge of the art of writing occasionally fails the author. The words don't come, but the desire to craft the art remains. The need to fulfill the author's base necessity is too great for any invading, realistic story line to quench. No part of the story surrounding the story maker can keep the author from their goal.

It merely takes...

time.

In our lives there are many people who imagine they can inspire you by fear. They may even hope to stimulate your creativity and determination with a little intimidation or notion of despair. These people merely misunderstand the yearning felt within us all to excel, succeed and emerge better for your efforts.

Intimidation will only inspire you to partial greatness. I honestly believe that if someone is working diligently to encourage you to do your best through fear of failure, they're only going to receive a portion of your own ability.

It's a puzzle to me why some people and organizations seek to motivate by fear.

Actually, I think I get it. When I motivate others by fear, I'm working toward my own goal. When I inspire someone to give everything they have and succeed, I'm working toward their's as well. Motivating through intimidation is merely a means to self-benefit, intended to help oneself rather than others.

It's s shame that more people don't realize the satisfaction of helping someone else lift themselves to greatness.

For me, I seek to surround myself with those who quicken my spirits and give me the energy needed to not only do and give my best, but to exceed all expectations in the process.

One day, when I have surpassed those who cause me only to work hard enough to get the job done, I hope to be an example to them of how to provoke real success from those around me.

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Well, actually, I have some good ideas, but I'm not about to ruin your day with mundane details.

OK, I'll bore you with a couple.

First and foremost, my computer died. While I am currently using my laptop, I don't normally used the laptop to blog. The laptop doesn't sit in my writing room that often, so it's usually used for other things. I know that's just a lame excuse.

I had Valentine's Day to think about for a little while. I planned on making dinner for Jill, and I needed to contemplate the recipe for a few days. I ended up doing a feta-stuffed breaded chicken dinner with spaghetti and caesar salad. I had to weigh the choice of doing the chicken flattened or not. It took me days to decide (I went with flattened).

Work has been hectic. OK, that's not true - it's been hell. A lot going on there, and all of it something I don't talk about on my blog (see Wikipedia's entry for "Dooced"). Sorry.

Perhaps it's been the fact that after blogging each and every day in 2008, including leap day, and not garnering any recognition from the blog-related organizations that foster monthly if not yearly blogging, I've been a bit burned out.

It could also be the fact that things I say here make it back to work now. And while I don't talk about work, I certainly find it awkward that people from work learn about my personal life through my blog. I'm not afraid of having my personal life out there for all to see (I hold back the juicy stuff anyway), I'm just worried that some remark I make might be taken the wrong way, or I might be destroying the perception that someone has of me.

I'd like to say I've been writing these last two weeks. Sure, I've done a few things here and there for the professional writing career I imagine I have, but nothing substantial.

I could have been on Facebook for two weeks solid, but I wasn't.

No, there's no quantifiable reason I can provide for my absence. At least, not one I'll admit to.

Have faith in me. If for no reason other than the desire need to write, I'll take on my yoke once again simply because my site traffic is half what it normally is.

But it IS nice to know that I can not say a word for two weeks and still get half the hits I get when I'm writing non-stop. I'll take any victory I can get.

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I was born and partially raised in the Hudson Valley. I haven't been back there since my uncle passed away about five years ago.

Understanding that the area isn't much like I remember it, I can't help but reconstruct a Hudson Valley - specifically, the parts south of Poughkeepsie, where I'm from - in my mind.

In my mind, the Hudson Valley Mall is still alive and well. Trips to Service Merchandise to look at the Atari and Intellivision games are an excitement I can't pass up. Pushing the shopping cart at Shop Rite is still a blast, and while visiting the liquor store next door I still have the thrill of knowing I'd never be in that store without my parents. The silence surrounding the bottles of alcohol are calming even to this day.

I remember going to the Karl Ehmer King Kone in Fishkill for a 7Up Float. Or to the Dairy Queen in Wappingers for that new Blizzard thing or ice cream in a baseball cap. The Carvell a little down the street was always so cold inside - between the hard-packed ice cream, ice cream cakes, and bland white walls you'd often feel like you were part of the wares. The McDonald's had a playground before tubes and rubber mats inside a temperature-controlled side building was ever popular.

The post office was a huge building. It seemed like everything in the world must have gone on in that plain blue building in secret.

I remember the illuminated cross on the mountain, wondering what in the world was all the way up there. I remember visiting the church that the cross belonged to one evening.

In my mind, driving around to see the Christmas lights or Hanukkah menorahs yielded holiday cheer on just about every lawn.

To me, South Hills Mall will always be cool because it was at the top of the hill. It had a K-Mart - an actual, real, K-Mart. The walkways through the mall went down hill. I remember avoiding the Arby's like it was the plague, not wanting roast beef, and not realizing I'd ever eat at Arby's as an adult, let alone like roast beef sandwiches.

For me, there will never be anything quite as thrilling as driving over the bridge from Poughkeepsie to Highland, and how the road amazingly cut its way through solid rock.

The Hudson Valley of my youth will always be the Hudson Valley of my mind. And no other place will ever hold as much majesty - or sense of loss - than the place where I grew up.

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