Less Rattly and More Smooth

Sarah got back last night and buzzed like a little girl describing Christmas.  There was more exciting news than could fit in practical conversation.   She waved her arms to give me a feel for its size.  Her eyes got big as she plowed into her husband the importance of its proximity.  Sometimes she had to pause to organize the thoughts storming towards their exit.

Super Target  had just opened it's new store mere blocks from our house.

For months she's been my suburban Magellan, bringing back updates from the light rail.

She takes it to work everyday and it runs right past the new shopping center, Riverpoint at something. I don’t know…something about Rivers and Nature and Crossings and there’s a Chiles.

I can see everybody in their power suits, buried in Donald Trump’s latest book or fidgeting with their Blackberry, and my wife with her face pressed against the window, watching convenience sprout from the ground.  One day she even told me she thought the digging and hauling of the earth movers could be put to a ballet.   And somebody would say, “Ma’am, ma’am…I think this is your stop.”

And so it finally happened. While the real gem, Costco, is still a few weeks out, Sarah caught the tail end of Target’s second day. She raved about the wide aisles and the clean displays. The new grocery carts are so beautiful, I am told, that for a moment one might think they are sculptures. Pushing them, it is reported, is like a dream. Describing the fluid motion of the conveyance requires you pause, take in a breath, and then exhale an even breeze whilst pushing away with both hands. It’s not just shopping, it’s Tai Chi, or something so deep and healing that my wife has said she'll work weekend nights just to fully savor the experience.

I can understand.  Englewood used to be home to the world's largest shopping mall, but then Minneapolis' Mall of America stole our thunder, and Cinderella City came crashing down.   Today, Englewood's city council has banners promoting our  "125 Great Shops".  That might be true if you wanted clothing for your cat, a vacuum from one of our two vacuum specialty stores, or a shotgun from a dizzying array of pawn shops.  Oh, and you can buy a thing to put your weed in from a head shop the size of a Bennagins.

We do have a Walmart and a Ross, but we only used to go there to feel better about our odds as decent parents.   And if you could imagine our new city center as polished tile, the Walmart would be that place behind the toilet you rarely deign to clean.

So here's the sign that has my wife celebrating shopping carts that move like apparitions.  Soon she'll be pantomiming the near indescribable hugeness of Costco. 
This is what we have for now.  To see what used to be there, and what we did with our time BQ, click here.