I know it sounds very un-woman-like, but I'm not a shopper. So, therefore, it stands to reason, I'm not really a mall person. And, never, during the entire year am I ever less of a mall person than right about now. I promise you, if you ever see me in a mall, it won't be between Thanksgiving and mid-January. Yes, at least mid-January. After everybody's done commemorating the sacred days of the birth of their Lord and Savior and the miracle of Hanukkah by driving around a mall parking lot for forty minutes looking for a spot so they can run in and buy or return some crappola, we then celebrate the great leader of peace and unity, Martin Luther King Jr. by pushing each other out of the way to get twenty percent off a coffee maker. No can do. And then there's the food court to contend with. And, trust me, if I wanted to, I could handle myself at the food court. My sister and I mastered the food court back in our teens when sprawling food courts were invented. Back then, when it was so crowded that there were no seats, we didn't mind eating our pizza slices while leaning on the garbage can. Nowadays, if the food court was that jammed, I would opt for our Plan B that she and I would enlist when either our meal was too big for the garbage can or some other teenagers had beaten us to the coveted spot... "The Hover": Find people whose food looked two-thirds eaten and stand practically on top of them, looking pathetic, carrying our trays, trying to will them to get up (call it mental coercion) ... Nowadays, I just as soon avoid the whole scene altogether... Although I'm sure "The Hover" method would probably bring results even faster now than then. It takes less to look pathetic now than when I was seventeen.