We'd been living out here for about nine months when we hit the Christmas period. It's funny how quickly we all adapted to Californian life - in many ways it was much easier, of course. We lived in Marina Del Rey which is really a small village, with not too many residents, and lots of visitors on the weekends. About a mile from our apartment was a wonderful supermarket, called Boys; it had the distinction of being named the supermarket with the most attractive women shoppers in America.
Well, on our first Christmas day, Boys posted a notice that they would be closed from 12 noon. Normally they were open 24 hours, of course. A feeling of panic descended on me. Suppose we needed a jar of pig's feet, or ran out of toilet paper. What the hell were we going to do? We had become totally reliant on the pampering that California offered.
I was reminded of this the other day at our local market up here in Big Bear. Normally they are closed between 2 and 6 a.m. so we've sort of disciplined ourselves to going without. But the bomb was dropped. They intended closing for the entire 24-hour period of Christmas day. I reeled with the information. As soon as I returned home, I checked our stock of pig's feet, and also toilet paper of course. One never knows when a sudden attack of Montezuma's revenge might strike. Well, I can report that we made it through the entire day. But there was still a nagging feeling at the back of the mind.