I tried to buy a single 12-ounce can of beer at Albertson's for the purpose of making Sally's liquid yeast bread. No go. Funny thing was, I'd seen a six pack broken up just the week before. But the checker said the liquor manager told them to stop ringing them up.
Maybe I just look like someone who should not buy beer. I do kind of have the ultimate Utah-Mormon face. I look like everybody's cousin. In fact I probably am everybody's cousin.
The checker, by the way, was the same cute high school boy checker I've seen at this Albertson's for almost two years now, since he processed my video-rental application a couple of days after we moved to Merced and teased me for doing all that work just so I could see Miss Congeniality. I mean cute in a could-almost-be-my-son kind of way, since I was probably 12 or 13 when he was born.
That checker has also seen me numerous times with my kids. Taking my kids to the grocery store is like taking a three-ring circus, and that is saying something since there are only two kids. So maybe he was thinking, "I understand why that woman would feel driven to drink, but I really cannot let her start because with the life she leads, she will be sucked into a vortex of destruction immediately." If I had intended to drink the beer, he might have been right about that.
Just so you know. I'm still on the hunt for the beer.