I need insurance, and then porridge

Years ago, when out driving, I would think about all the discarded cassette tape flotsam and jetsam along the sides of the roads. Long brown streamers that would catch the wind and curl up around the bottoms of street signs and form twisted bundles in the storm drains. I wondered if someone could string together all the bits of different people's lost or discarded music and put them together. What would that sound like? Kenny G/Run DMC/Carli Simon/Dvorchak?

A friend recently suggested an art project where you pick up all the scraps of shopping lists found on the aisles and stuck in the little bars of the shopping carts in every supermarket in every town and form a collage of sorts. I wonder if someone should come upon my shopping list for this trip. What would it say about this moment in time? (And how utterly flummoxed would I be if I lost it?)

The origin of the photo I posted is unknown (and hopefully not copyrighted, she said quietly). It's fascinating to me. It's 1935, no, scratch that, 1937 and whoever wrote this list itemized insurance right along with porridge. It's just one moment in time in one person's life.

I'd call it: Shopping, interrupted.

Because you just know those sad people still needed that list.