Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! I so needed that big deep breath. Okay, so I ♥ this saying. Found it on the electronic Google machine (as my husband calls it) and it fits my life perfectly, so I thought I’d share.
But this isn’t a serious post. We’re way too close to Christmas and the arrival of all the family and holiday madness that ensues. For the next few days, I’ll just be reporting from my life for your entertainment pleasure.
FROM THE GROCERY STORY
I arrived at the HEB around 5 p.m., fully prepared to master my major list without forgetting anything (Spoiler alert: I am short one container of Parmesan cheese and some winter beans for a tomatillo stew JM is making…so that plan FAILED!) I should mention that when I first moved to Texas from Los Angeles, the grocery store was a major nemesis for me. Californians are totally spoiled by an abundance of extremely fresh produce at what I now realize are dirt cheap prices. Unless you want to spend $17 on a pound of grapes at Whole Foods, managing healthy eating of whole foods is a lot more difficult here. This however, is just an aside. I’ve got the situation under control now (6 years later!)
I prepared for market success, eating before I left the house. I left the children at home with their father. I parked strategically–not close enough to be engaged in any parking lot wars, but not far enough to be soaked trying to lug 79 bags of groceries to the car. I brought my list and a pen, walked in the door and headed straight for the bathroom. Entrance of said bathroom was completely blocked by a young mother who stood tormented with an infant strapped to her chest in one of those sling things that kind of always makes you think the kid is going to fall out. While she was wrangling three other children under the age of 5, she looked at me trying to get in the bathroom and flat out said, what do you want me to do?. I cracked up. What can I say…I feel her pain! Said children were arguing over a toy machine. One screamed and started pulling its own hair while the other grabbed a hold of her leg and started climbing up. She looked miserable, and that kind of tired that leaves you wondering if you are homicidal or suicidal. As I squeezed past her ginormous cart (the ridiculous one with the plastic car stuck to the front of it) I slammed the bathroom door shut behind me and took a humongous breath and thanked whatever gods may be that my own children are now 7 & 10. I have only puberty to look forward to.
In related news, why is it that every flavor candy cane is stocked in plenty, but not one box of regular sized peppermint candy canes could be found among the 7,000 other boxes lining the shelves? I will now LITERALLY have to crush the enormous mega-size peppermint sticks (that were twice as much and infinitely more work) by hand with a hammer instead of simply putting the whole shebang (not sure on the spelling of this word) into my Cuisinart. What’s a girl to do? This annoying and potentially dangerous situation is unavoidable, and I’m wondering if I have any legal recourse against HEB in the event of an accident, since I am basically on ‘No Sleep till Brooklyn’ mode and should probably not be using any kind of tool.
Lastly, and least important, the Best Jacket Ever award goes to the black poofy one I’ve been wearing as a standby for years. Gap, Circa 2004, has weathered hailstorms, rain, several road trips across the country and small children’s vomit, but tonight’s spilled bottle of buttermilk makes it official. Waterproof is always the way to go.
Stay tuned for tomorrow’s post: FROM THE KITCHEN.