I know it's time to leave the store when my Better Half says "Have you touched everything yet?". He's a subtle guy, and then again, he's not. I am a tactile shopper, and nothing makes me happier than being in a store full of color that I can touch.
I'm not a melon smeller (although I will admit to limes - I swear they never touch my nose!), but I do love the seductive glow of a healthy produce department. Flat parsley seems so much more... green to me than curly parsley. Seeing the texture of perky little kumquats (olive sized and orange) next to a dark red pomegranate (that you know will stain your favorite shirt) makes me happy. Did you know there are purple fingerling potatoes? I do pick up produce as a way of checking freshness- raised by gardeners, I like my food to be in a state that acknowledges that it grew somewhere. I once walked behind a woman who tousled each cabbage head and tweaked the carrots as if they were parts of a small child she was quite fond of. It was odd... watching her move from one veggie to the next. I moved on to the next aisle when she got to the turnips. I don't have that kind of relationship with my food.
Fabric stores are okay, but there are few in my area that don't have warehouse fluorescent lighting (thank goodness for quilting stores). Yarn stores are my favorite. They tend to be small and friendly, they smell of fibre and craftiness, and if you're lucky there's a shop animal to pet and the click of needles. When I walk into a yarn store, I feel like I've walked into an artist's brain - bright, textured stacks of potential everywhere. I pick up yarn and sweep my hand over fabric bolts and mutter things to myself like "red. yummy". If suffering Better Half is in tow (and he often is because he is a good and kind man with much patience), I will say something that means zilch to him like "It's very orange but still pink, you know?". He has his own relationship with color, so he will nod and say something reasonable and let me continue with my only half private exclamations.
The winter blahs are definitely starting to get to me. Usually a visit with my craft supplies helps, but sometimes you just gotta go to the source, and mutter weird things to yourself while being up to your wrists in color. Never mind the fact that your mother gave you a bucket of yarn for Christmas, or that you haven't used the stuff you got on vacation this summer. And really, the Better Half is such an understanding guy, he'll probably appreciate a bit more color in his life. Yeah.