Seduction on Aisle Five

The other day during breakfast, Sean casually suggested we create a separate budget item called, “Target book budget.” I looked at him like he had just poured orange juice over his cold cereal. I refused to believe I had ever actually purchased books at my Oasis, the Omnipotent One where the price is always right. After all, I really try to support our local indie bookseller in SLC, The King’s English (see below for proof).

I have never set out to buy a book at Target, ever. It’s just that on my tri-weekly trip, I inevitably pass the aisle of beguiling literature where all the covers are face out. As I pass the said aisle, I see a delicious cover with three cute birds dotting the center. “Quick, cover the eyes,” I remind myself. Then I swear I hear one say, “Hey baby, come look over here.” Then I think I hear, “Hot stuff, you look good in those jeans (the same jeans I thought made my rear double in size when I put them on that morning), but you’ll look even better if you read this. You know you want to.” Before I realize what is happening, I’m stuck with my nose buried deep into some book called, The Girls From Ames, which by the way, was telling me it had some Lindt excellence white coconut chocolate hidden somewhere between the covers.

How does one resist?

One doesn’t. I grab it from the shelf and flip right to the acknowledgments page (weird ritual), then the author bio, and finally I partake of the first square of white chocolate – Chapter One – and it reels me in like a rainbow trout stupidly chomping down on the fluorescent pink power bait (even though it knew better).

Bobby Banjo can sense my book point-of-no-return like a bird dog sniffing out the course. And he intends to exploit me at this vulnerable time in my life. “Mommy, I’ll be right over here…”

“Yeah, okay Judd. Whatever, just…”

“Mom!” he says. “It’s not Judd. It's Judd the Stud.” I look at him over my book. “Okay, whatever, Judd. Uh, Judd the Stud. Just stay close,” I say, as the bubble above my heads shows my hands rubbing together in the glee of 10 minutes of solitary book reading. When I realize I’m finished with the first chapter and he hasn’t tried to interrupt me at least five times, I throw the book in my cart.

Whoops? Did I just do that?

I head around the corner. Not there. I cruise down a few more aisles until I finally find him here. "What? Why here, Judd?” I ask. “Judd the STUD, Mom.” He says poking his head out.


I still have no idea what he was doing. But it reminded me that I needed something on that aisle anyway. And, that I had forgotten to check out that book called Sarah’s Key…