I like to cut the size tags off my new clothes. Occasionally it is because they are itchy, but that's not the only reason. What if someone saw the tag and knew what size I wear? Some numbers are not meant to be shared.
What I will never understand is why men's jeans come with exterior tags that show waist and length for all to see. Men don't seem to care that we can see that they are a 38/30, 30/38, or 36/31. The day I wear pants with my size advertised is the day the North and South Poles exchange places, which I am told will one day happen, but not in my lifetime.
Europeans have it all wrong. We refused to go metric. We just said no. What woman wants to walk into a store and say she needs a strappy little black sandal in size 38, or an evening dress in size 44? Isn't it bad enough that anything above a size 12 is considered a "plus" size?
Shopping for a wedding gown, girls? Prepare to order it two sizes bigger than your normal. This makes getting engaged the fastest weight gain you'll ever experience. Bridal gown samples all seem to be size 10, and they fit perfectly - on a size six figure. In case that leaves any of your self esteem intact, there are still the three sided mirrors watching your every move.
There is some hope for those of us who feel size-challenged. The Chico's chain has a fantastic size range - 1, 2, and 3. I can march right in there and announce with confidence that I need a size 3 with not one iota of embarassment. The fact that I have yet to find anything that fits both me and my budget is not Chico's fault. And I will keep hoping that their forward-thinking spreads far and wide. Just in case I do.
November 12, 2010
August 31, 2010
Moral Dilemmas
I am faced with choices daily, hourly, sometimes minutely. It is not always easy to make the right choice. In "The Goonies" and "Indiana Jones'" movies, making the wrong choice has dire consequences. I'm not referring to that type of choices, just the common, ordinary kind.
1. You are in the rest room of a restaurant, alone, and you find a small wad of bills. Do you -
a. scoop it up and quickly pocket it, counting it later?
b. leave it where it is?
c. pick up the money and hand it to a restaurant employee?
2. In the checkout line at the grocery store, you notice that the cashier failed to charge you for an item. Do you -
a. say nothing?
b. point out the omission to the cashier?
c. tell the store manager that the cashier is giving away the stock?
3. Your boss' boss' boss has called you by the wrong name for years. Do you -
a. continue to smile and greet him under the false name?
b. quietly take him aside and tell him that he's been making a fool of himself with your cooperation?
c. correct him loudly at the next departmental meeting?
4. You are unable to get a Walt Disney World restaurant reservation for two. You have heard that it is sometimes possible to get a reservation for three, rather than two, as there are more tables for four than two. Do you -
a. after failing to get a reservation for two, just take your chances and appear at the restaurant full of hope?
b. make the reservation for three or four and then once you appear before the hostess, say that the rest of the party could not make it?
c. decide that you don't really want to eat there after all if your money-for-two isn't good enough for them?
5. You shopped at a large-chain discount store, buying heavily, receiving many bags full of stuff. A day or two later you realize that you can't find a few of the items you purchased, although they are listed on your receipt. Do you -
a. call the store, filled with indignation, and ask what they are going to do about it?
b. blame yourself for not being more observant when the items were bagged; do you really want to drive 20 miles for a few lost items?
c. decide to tell the manager next time you go to the store, hoping you will remember the receipt to use as back-up?
5a. If you return to the store and get either a refund or free replacement of the missing items, and then, days later, you find the supposedly missing items in the car trunk, in another bag, or somewhere else among your possessions, do you -
a. immediately return the surplus items?
b. feel guilty but keep the surplus items, rationalizing that somehow, some way, they owe it to you?
c. make a pie crust promise to yourself to some day soon either return the surplus items or tell the manager and pay the store back?
6. Your favorite drive-thru has been sadly lacking in speed and accuracy lately, but they still have the best fast food. Today they gave you more food than you ordered and paid for, and you don't discover it until after you have left the pick-up window. Do you -
a. go back through the line and return the overage?
b. decide they owe it to you as compensation for the hurt feelings they have been causing you?
c. throw the extra food out the car window in small pieces for the birds and squirrels and other non-guilt feeling creatures?
7. You are sitting in your car in a shopping center parking lot, and you watch as a driver in a car damages another car, parks in a spot nearby, and then walks into the store. Do you -
a. drive away shaking your head, dismayed at what this world has come to?
b. write down the number plate and wait for the owner of the damaged vehicle to return to the scene of the crime and share the information?
c. go let the air out of the tires of the car that did the damage?
You didn't think I was going to tell you the right answers, did you? Since we all have different consciences, then maybe we all have different right answers.
1. You are in the rest room of a restaurant, alone, and you find a small wad of bills. Do you -
a. scoop it up and quickly pocket it, counting it later?
b. leave it where it is?
c. pick up the money and hand it to a restaurant employee?
2. In the checkout line at the grocery store, you notice that the cashier failed to charge you for an item. Do you -
a. say nothing?
b. point out the omission to the cashier?
c. tell the store manager that the cashier is giving away the stock?
3. Your boss' boss' boss has called you by the wrong name for years. Do you -
a. continue to smile and greet him under the false name?
b. quietly take him aside and tell him that he's been making a fool of himself with your cooperation?
c. correct him loudly at the next departmental meeting?
4. You are unable to get a Walt Disney World restaurant reservation for two. You have heard that it is sometimes possible to get a reservation for three, rather than two, as there are more tables for four than two. Do you -
a. after failing to get a reservation for two, just take your chances and appear at the restaurant full of hope?
b. make the reservation for three or four and then once you appear before the hostess, say that the rest of the party could not make it?
c. decide that you don't really want to eat there after all if your money-for-two isn't good enough for them?
5. You shopped at a large-chain discount store, buying heavily, receiving many bags full of stuff. A day or two later you realize that you can't find a few of the items you purchased, although they are listed on your receipt. Do you -
a. call the store, filled with indignation, and ask what they are going to do about it?
b. blame yourself for not being more observant when the items were bagged; do you really want to drive 20 miles for a few lost items?
c. decide to tell the manager next time you go to the store, hoping you will remember the receipt to use as back-up?
5a. If you return to the store and get either a refund or free replacement of the missing items, and then, days later, you find the supposedly missing items in the car trunk, in another bag, or somewhere else among your possessions, do you -
a. immediately return the surplus items?
b. feel guilty but keep the surplus items, rationalizing that somehow, some way, they owe it to you?
c. make a pie crust promise to yourself to some day soon either return the surplus items or tell the manager and pay the store back?
6. Your favorite drive-thru has been sadly lacking in speed and accuracy lately, but they still have the best fast food. Today they gave you more food than you ordered and paid for, and you don't discover it until after you have left the pick-up window. Do you -
a. go back through the line and return the overage?
b. decide they owe it to you as compensation for the hurt feelings they have been causing you?
c. throw the extra food out the car window in small pieces for the birds and squirrels and other non-guilt feeling creatures?
7. You are sitting in your car in a shopping center parking lot, and you watch as a driver in a car damages another car, parks in a spot nearby, and then walks into the store. Do you -
a. drive away shaking your head, dismayed at what this world has come to?
b. write down the number plate and wait for the owner of the damaged vehicle to return to the scene of the crime and share the information?
c. go let the air out of the tires of the car that did the damage?
You didn't think I was going to tell you the right answers, did you? Since we all have different consciences, then maybe we all have different right answers.
August 7, 2010
Sail Away From Falmouth...
Cape Cod is charming, off the beaten path, and a tourist's dream destination. Maybe the miles and miles of heavy and slow/stopped traffic along the way make it that much sweeter. Not only is the Cape a great place to visit, it's a great place to live. In the summertime the traffic gets annoying, often aggravating, but we take pride in knowing and discovering shortcuts to avoid some of it. We've lived here 24 years, long enough to wonder why we see so many cars from Connecticut, Rhode Island, and New Hampshire. Don't they share the same ocean? Why is it better here? When we start thinking this way, it's time to head for Martha's Vineyard, because we still find it charming, off the beaten path, and a tourist's dream destination.
We catch the Island Queen in Falmouth, and relax for the half hour boatride. There are sailboats, fishing boats, cigarette boats, and jet skis to watch along the way. The sun is on our faces, the wind whips through our hair, and we are getting a combination wind & sunburn, and we like it. The sky is blue (at $18/pp we make sure to go on a sunny day), the water is sparkling, and we pretend we are on vacation. Once at the dock in Oak Bluffs, we stay in our orange plastic seats until the parents, children, babies, bicycles, and dogs have disembarked, then we follow. Passengers leaving the boat are greeted by happy islanders, family or friends already staying on the island, taxi and tour bus drivers, and hopeful seagulls. Spouse has told me that in the 1950s, arrivals were also greeted by young boys in the water begging for coins to be tossed into the harbor for capture.
Walking along the harborside, we look at the other people, the cars, mopeds, skooters, and bicycles for rent. $100 for a small 4 door is excessive, and if we want to get around we buy a bus pass for less than $10/pp and can ride around the island all day. It stops in Edgartown, and we have been there many times, enjoying the cobblestone streets, the deli's excellent sandwiches, and Murdick's fudge. Yum. Just riding the bus and seeing the beaches, homes, and the people is a good time. Not having to drive in the bumper-to-bumper traffic in the towns' centers is a good time.
The towns have their own particular attractions, but my favorite has always been Oak Bluffs. This is where spouse's father and grandfather were born, where he lived for ten years as a child, and where his parents are buried. Deep roots.
Spouse's family lived in a campground house, home of the Gingerbread Houses. Today the area looks like something out of a fairytale. At the very center is the Tabernacle, an opensided and airy building used for church services, community sings, and special events. It is also a good place to eat a take-out lunch. Surrounding the Tabernacle is a soft blanket of shaded green grass with benches, and a great place to sit, relax, and eat the fudge bought in Edgartown, or at the Murdick's in Oak Bluffs. As we walk throught the Campgrounds, spouse tells me the names of all the people who lived in the houses when he lived here and the mischief he used to get into. Also the mischief that he did not get into but was blamed for.
When it's time for lunch we have a lot of choices along Circuit Avenue, but usually end up at Giordano's, which has been there for decades, and meets our high standards. Pizza, sandwiches, and fried clams are the highlights of the menu for us. We visit some of the gift shops, and sometimes buy touristy things. Spouse talks about the past with store clerks, but he seldom finds anyone who knew people he knew. You can go home again, but maybe no one will know you.
Everything about Oak Bluffs lowers my blood pressure. When we go with the fam, we stay five or six hours, and we see and do it all. When it's just the two of us, three hours is enough time. As we walked back to the dock, spouse stopped to look at some rental cars? go-karts? tricycles with sides? and I wouldn't be surprised to hear that he needs to go back to MV to rent one.
This might have an adverse affect on my blood pressure...
June 19, 2010
How Far is Too Far?
I have met people who will not drive over a bridge. Since they happen to live on Cape Cod, this means they never leave the place, which is basically an island since its only connections to "off Cape" are made of steel. Others think that driving to the next town is too far to go unless there is a special reason, and they consider a 20 minute trip an event.
Spouse and I like to be in the car, and like to cover a lot of ground. We don't need a specific destination when we start out. On weekends, we want to get out of the house, see things, do things, see new sights. We stop at McD's for our 32 oz. sweet tea (still only $1.00) and head out on the open road. There is always a meal on the agenda, and often the GPS is involved. One more friendly voice in the car adds to the fun of the day.
One time we drove an hour to reach a Shoney's in Rhode Island. We had fond memories of their buffet from vacations past, and wanted to recapture come of that vacation food fun. We got all the way there and saw that Shoney's had closed and we had to eat at a Ruby Tuesday's instead. It has taken me 12 years to appreciate Ruby Tuesday's and it is solely because of the avocado turkey burger. But I digress.
We have repeatedly driven 1.5 hours to the Burlington Mall to dine at the Rainforest Cafe, one of the most fun places on the earth or at least on this hemisphere. The food is ample and excellent, the ambiance is pure squeaky-clean jungle, and the Volcano dessert is to die for. And if you ate a Volcano by yourself you probably would die. Six people could easily share this brownie/cake/ice cream/whipped cream extravaganza. There are two Rainforest locations at Disneyworld, so driving to Burlington is a much shorter ride, and brings back a little of the vacation feeling, at least until we step back out into the mall.
Kelly's Roast Beef is also worth a 1.5 hour journey. Not only is their roast beef fantastic, but their onion rings and french fries are - you guessed it - to die for. Much better to share them. We can walk off some of the excess calories strolling through Jordan's Furniture and asking the sales people "What happened to Barry?". And then, if we're still hungry, we can drive another 20 minutes to Uhlman's in Westborough for ice cream - rich, homemade, creamy ice cream.
We do have favorite restaurants that are only about 45 minutes away; Texas Roadhouse, Five Guys, Smoky Bones, Olive Garden, Outback. There are even a couple only 15 minutes away, like Red Robin, Longhorn Steakhouse, Chili's. But we can go to those any time. Running up the mileage makes a meal more special, and vice verse.
I don't have one favorite restaurant, but I have a favorite few. Starting with the closest geographically, the Family Cupboard in Bird-in-Hand, PA, is Amish and Mennonite and has both a buffet and servers if you choose to have your portions controlled, and shoo fly pie is available at all three meals. Family Cupboard is about eight hours from home, so we don't go there often. Maybe once a year, and we make the visit count.
Another special favorite is the Ville de Flora at Gaylord Palms in Kissimmee, which is 24 hours from our house. It is a buffet, naturally, and every night has a different theme, be it Spanish, French, Greek, or Italian. Italian (the only one we have tried) includes prime rib and about a thousand fantastic side dishes. I could almost become a vegetarian for a meal, but not really. Just before we reach bursting point, we head for the dessert island for the sample-sized treasures that make it deceptively easy to fill a plate before you know what is happening. I remember my father repeating what he heard so often in the army, "Take what you want but eat what you take." So that's what I always try to do. Waste is sinful, and so is gluttony, but waste seems more sinfullier. Once we stagger out of the V de F, we walk extensively around the four acre atrium lobby and gawk at the tropical paradise. This is the only resort I have visited that has alligators in the lobby which sounds scary but is not.
Another favorite restaurant is located at Disney's Animal Kingdom Lodge, also 24 hours from home. It is Boma, an African themed buffet, open for breakfast and dinner. Again, the side dishes are enough to make the meal, but the prime rib, turkey, and chicken are too tempting to resist. The desserts are the first offerings we walk by on the way to our table. I think the hosts plan their routes carefully. If we fill up on those sweets we won't have enough hard drive space for the pricier buffet items. One server we had actually brought us each a zebra pastry to eat before we even ordered beverages. Naturally we all ate that first. It is now the first thing I put on my plate when we are lucky enough to get to Boma. I just saw on bing dictionary what "Boma" means - 'enclosure: in central and eastern Africa, an enclosed camp or an enclosure for animals'. I won't take that personally.
There is one more special favorite on my list - Marie Callender's. Unfortunately these restaurants are four to five days away, and I don't know when we will be able to get to another one. The meals are good, but they are not the shining star here. You have to, have to, have to save room for dessert, which is always PIE. My favoritest pie of all, even better than the Chocolate Satin, is the Double Cream Blueberry (fruity therefore healthy). On our first visit to Marie's, spouse and I ordered different flavors (noted above) and shared. On our second visit I again got the Double Cream Blueberry and there was no sharing. It was so good that I did not even mind that spouse spilled some blueberries in his lap, stained his off-white cargo shorts, and decided to abandon them in the motel room rather than have us try to get that stain out at home even though it was first time he had worn them. Shakespeare may have thought the play's the thing, but I say the pie's the thing. If you happen to find yourself on the west coast and in a Marie Callender's and you are still hungry after your meal, have a nice piece of pie, any flavor you want. But if you can't make up your mind, have the Double Cream Blueberry.
Spouse and I like to be in the car, and like to cover a lot of ground. We don't need a specific destination when we start out. On weekends, we want to get out of the house, see things, do things, see new sights. We stop at McD's for our 32 oz. sweet tea (still only $1.00) and head out on the open road. There is always a meal on the agenda, and often the GPS is involved. One more friendly voice in the car adds to the fun of the day.
One time we drove an hour to reach a Shoney's in Rhode Island. We had fond memories of their buffet from vacations past, and wanted to recapture come of that vacation food fun. We got all the way there and saw that Shoney's had closed and we had to eat at a Ruby Tuesday's instead. It has taken me 12 years to appreciate Ruby Tuesday's and it is solely because of the avocado turkey burger. But I digress.
We have repeatedly driven 1.5 hours to the Burlington Mall to dine at the Rainforest Cafe, one of the most fun places on the earth or at least on this hemisphere. The food is ample and excellent, the ambiance is pure squeaky-clean jungle, and the Volcano dessert is to die for. And if you ate a Volcano by yourself you probably would die. Six people could easily share this brownie/cake/ice cream/whipped cream extravaganza. There are two Rainforest locations at Disneyworld, so driving to Burlington is a much shorter ride, and brings back a little of the vacation feeling, at least until we step back out into the mall.
Kelly's Roast Beef is also worth a 1.5 hour journey. Not only is their roast beef fantastic, but their onion rings and french fries are - you guessed it - to die for. Much better to share them. We can walk off some of the excess calories strolling through Jordan's Furniture and asking the sales people "What happened to Barry?". And then, if we're still hungry, we can drive another 20 minutes to Uhlman's in Westborough for ice cream - rich, homemade, creamy ice cream.
We do have favorite restaurants that are only about 45 minutes away; Texas Roadhouse, Five Guys, Smoky Bones, Olive Garden, Outback. There are even a couple only 15 minutes away, like Red Robin, Longhorn Steakhouse, Chili's. But we can go to those any time. Running up the mileage makes a meal more special, and vice verse.
I don't have one favorite restaurant, but I have a favorite few. Starting with the closest geographically, the Family Cupboard in Bird-in-Hand, PA, is Amish and Mennonite and has both a buffet and servers if you choose to have your portions controlled, and shoo fly pie is available at all three meals. Family Cupboard is about eight hours from home, so we don't go there often. Maybe once a year, and we make the visit count.
Another special favorite is the Ville de Flora at Gaylord Palms in Kissimmee, which is 24 hours from our house. It is a buffet, naturally, and every night has a different theme, be it Spanish, French, Greek, or Italian. Italian (the only one we have tried) includes prime rib and about a thousand fantastic side dishes. I could almost become a vegetarian for a meal, but not really. Just before we reach bursting point, we head for the dessert island for the sample-sized treasures that make it deceptively easy to fill a plate before you know what is happening. I remember my father repeating what he heard so often in the army, "Take what you want but eat what you take." So that's what I always try to do. Waste is sinful, and so is gluttony, but waste seems more sinfullier. Once we stagger out of the V de F, we walk extensively around the four acre atrium lobby and gawk at the tropical paradise. This is the only resort I have visited that has alligators in the lobby which sounds scary but is not.
Another favorite restaurant is located at Disney's Animal Kingdom Lodge, also 24 hours from home. It is Boma, an African themed buffet, open for breakfast and dinner. Again, the side dishes are enough to make the meal, but the prime rib, turkey, and chicken are too tempting to resist. The desserts are the first offerings we walk by on the way to our table. I think the hosts plan their routes carefully. If we fill up on those sweets we won't have enough hard drive space for the pricier buffet items. One server we had actually brought us each a zebra pastry to eat before we even ordered beverages. Naturally we all ate that first. It is now the first thing I put on my plate when we are lucky enough to get to Boma. I just saw on bing dictionary what "Boma" means - 'enclosure: in central and eastern Africa, an enclosed camp or an enclosure for animals'. I won't take that personally.
There is one more special favorite on my list - Marie Callender's. Unfortunately these restaurants are four to five days away, and I don't know when we will be able to get to another one. The meals are good, but they are not the shining star here. You have to, have to, have to save room for dessert, which is always PIE. My favoritest pie of all, even better than the Chocolate Satin, is the Double Cream Blueberry (fruity therefore healthy). On our first visit to Marie's, spouse and I ordered different flavors (noted above) and shared. On our second visit I again got the Double Cream Blueberry and there was no sharing. It was so good that I did not even mind that spouse spilled some blueberries in his lap, stained his off-white cargo shorts, and decided to abandon them in the motel room rather than have us try to get that stain out at home even though it was first time he had worn them. Shakespeare may have thought the play's the thing, but I say the pie's the thing. If you happen to find yourself on the west coast and in a Marie Callender's and you are still hungry after your meal, have a nice piece of pie, any flavor you want. But if you can't make up your mind, have the Double Cream Blueberry.
June 4, 2010
Do My Eyes Deceive Me?
I've been told not to sweat the small stuff. I prefer "don't forget the small stuff." The small stuff is where I find the quirky, puzzling, funny, ridiculous, and entertaining. I see some of the best stuff while I'm in the car, and today seemed to be extra stuffish, beginning with my commute along Route 3A, normally scenic and a favorite of wildlife. There were five different potentially fatal (for the chipmunks) incidents. Squirrel, turkey, and deer crossings are easy to deal with; a) proceed with caution and hope for signs of intelligence, b) swerve, c) blow the horn, d) slam on the brakes. Chipmunks, however, only have one speed, they never look both ways or even one way, and unless you time it just right - well, you know what happens. How have chipmunks survived for 76,000 years with not much more than a cute face going for them?
In the Wendy's parking lot at lunch time, I saw a truck with a cherry picker (boom lift, man lift, basket crane) parked about 50 feet away. The middle-aged truck driver was strolling around the outside of the truck, looking things over, and he was wearing a safety harness and a hard hat. This could be entertaining, I thought. He carefully climbed up into the bucket and I heard the whine of the hydraulic motor, and saw him slowly moving the bucket from side to side and then up and down. What I found strange was there wasn't a pole, tree, sign, or building within reach of the bucket. The man was just playing. Then I saw the sign on the truck door with the words "equipment rental". I'm eating lunch on my lunch hour, and he's riding in a bucket. And why at Wendy's? Why not at Burger King? Why not at the mall? And why did he do exactly the same thing yesterday?
I see limos/livery/transport vehicles all the time. Who doesn't? They are all basically taxis of different degrees of fancy-shmanciness. I've seen Hummer stretch limos, Cadillac limos, Lincoln limos, buses, and plenty of cabs of every size and color. Driving home along Route 44 today, I saw a "Victoria's Transport" cab and then I tried to imagine that it's our vacation day; I call Victoria's for the ride to the airport. Spouse and I gather our luggage together by the front door; his 26" rolly bag, my two smaller rolly bags, the toiletries, the shoe bag, the laptop bag, the camera bag. The taxi arrives, the doorbell rings, we open the door and see... a Toyota Prius. Really???
Today was sunny and hot, a perfect spring day. A thirsty kind of day. And then I saw The Soda Machine as I was cruising home on scenic Route 58, through the woods. Standing proud and tall against the side of someone's garage in a nice neighborhood, not far from Edaville Railroad (to which Thomas the Train will be coming on June 21st), and even less far from where King Richard's Faire is held every year, was a Pepsi machine. It wasn't an old, abandoned, wreck of a machine, it had the latest Pepsi logo and was lit up. I could see that from the road. So the question is, can passersby pull into the driveway, take a few steps to the side of the garage, and drop some coins? The homeowner could have put the machine around the back of the garage, out of sight of thirsty passersby. But he didn't. This is out in the middle of rurality with not a convenience store in sight. And there are other people along this same road selling armloads of campfire wood for $1.00. Entrepreneurial awesomeness!
When I was 18, before I had bought my first car, I wanted a Ford F-150. Not for any special reason, I just liked them. Over the years my dream car has changed many times, and has included a Lotus, a white bullet-proof Chevy Suburban with tinted windows, a yellow Toyota FJ Cruiser, a Ford Flex, and an Audi R8 GT3. Lately I've gone from frivolous to practical, and have a new favoritest car that I will never own. I have had my eye on a Ford F650 for its versatility and stylishness and was able to drive by the local Ford dealer to check out my black beauty from time to time. But today on the way home from work, my eye was caught by another, and I now have a new favorite. It's a Ford F750. Who needs the F650, when the F750 is around? The one I saw was doing duty as a dump truck, but from the looks of it, I could tow a house with that power. I could sit in the cab and be at eye-level with tractor trailer drivers. In short, I could fear nothing and no one in this beast. Could driving get any better than that?
Keep your eyes open. Watch for the small stuff.
In the Wendy's parking lot at lunch time, I saw a truck with a cherry picker (boom lift, man lift, basket crane) parked about 50 feet away. The middle-aged truck driver was strolling around the outside of the truck, looking things over, and he was wearing a safety harness and a hard hat. This could be entertaining, I thought. He carefully climbed up into the bucket and I heard the whine of the hydraulic motor, and saw him slowly moving the bucket from side to side and then up and down. What I found strange was there wasn't a pole, tree, sign, or building within reach of the bucket. The man was just playing. Then I saw the sign on the truck door with the words "equipment rental". I'm eating lunch on my lunch hour, and he's riding in a bucket. And why at Wendy's? Why not at Burger King? Why not at the mall? And why did he do exactly the same thing yesterday?
I see limos/livery/transport vehicles all the time. Who doesn't? They are all basically taxis of different degrees of fancy-shmanciness. I've seen Hummer stretch limos, Cadillac limos, Lincoln limos, buses, and plenty of cabs of every size and color. Driving home along Route 44 today, I saw a "Victoria's Transport" cab and then I tried to imagine that it's our vacation day; I call Victoria's for the ride to the airport. Spouse and I gather our luggage together by the front door; his 26" rolly bag, my two smaller rolly bags, the toiletries, the shoe bag, the laptop bag, the camera bag. The taxi arrives, the doorbell rings, we open the door and see... a Toyota Prius. Really???
Today was sunny and hot, a perfect spring day. A thirsty kind of day. And then I saw The Soda Machine as I was cruising home on scenic Route 58, through the woods. Standing proud and tall against the side of someone's garage in a nice neighborhood, not far from Edaville Railroad (to which Thomas the Train will be coming on June 21st), and even less far from where King Richard's Faire is held every year, was a Pepsi machine. It wasn't an old, abandoned, wreck of a machine, it had the latest Pepsi logo and was lit up. I could see that from the road. So the question is, can passersby pull into the driveway, take a few steps to the side of the garage, and drop some coins? The homeowner could have put the machine around the back of the garage, out of sight of thirsty passersby. But he didn't. This is out in the middle of rurality with not a convenience store in sight. And there are other people along this same road selling armloads of campfire wood for $1.00. Entrepreneurial awesomeness!
When I was 18, before I had bought my first car, I wanted a Ford F-150. Not for any special reason, I just liked them. Over the years my dream car has changed many times, and has included a Lotus, a white bullet-proof Chevy Suburban with tinted windows, a yellow Toyota FJ Cruiser, a Ford Flex, and an Audi R8 GT3. Lately I've gone from frivolous to practical, and have a new favoritest car that I will never own. I have had my eye on a Ford F650 for its versatility and stylishness and was able to drive by the local Ford dealer to check out my black beauty from time to time. But today on the way home from work, my eye was caught by another, and I now have a new favorite. It's a Ford F750. Who needs the F650, when the F750 is around? The one I saw was doing duty as a dump truck, but from the looks of it, I could tow a house with that power. I could sit in the cab and be at eye-level with tractor trailer drivers. In short, I could fear nothing and no one in this beast. Could driving get any better than that?
Keep your eyes open. Watch for the small stuff.
May 19, 2010
The Deliciousness of it All
My parents have always been of the "eat to live, don't live to eat" philosophy. And they have both remained slender into their eighties. I have always loved and enjoyed my food, and there is no need to discuss my weight.
Buffets are of paramount interest to me because of the unbeatable combination of variety and quantity, and this extends to nearly all types of food. So far I have been to Italian, French, Mexican, American, and Chinese buffets, and breakfast, lunch, and dinner buffets. Doesn't it make your mouth water to think of all that food?
Tonight we chose Chinese. This buffet is especially fantastic because of its crab rangoon. Plus it has desserts. After a heaping plate of my favorites, it was time to consider the last all-important course. Bananas in raspberry sauce, pineapple, orange slices, tapioca and chocolate puddings, cake and pastries... or the crowning glory, soft serve ice cream in three flavors. You remember the old adage, "Ice cream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream"; of course the ice cream won, and it was further improved by adding the bananas and pineapple. I was headed for the hot fudge sauce bucket when I was loudly redirected by our server. I had been inches from dousing my dessert with Moo Shi Sauce. I celebrated the near tragedy by heaping whipped cream over the hot fudge sauce, etc.
While spouse and I dined, we observed our fellow diners and the restaurant staff. The staff bring their children to work every day, or at least every day that we're there, and they are entertaining to watch and overhear. What I find especially nice is that the staff and their family members take plates from the same stack we do, and serve themselves from the same buffet food as we do.
We got moderately interesting fortunes. "Be willing to believe in anything that is good," and "Most people, once they graduate from the School of Hard Knocks, automatically enroll." We didn't really grasp that second one. Maybe we're slow learners.
Afterwards, I had only one question, which is destined to go forever unanswered. Why, with all that scrumptiousness at hand, was our server walking around with a Cup Noodles?
Buffets are of paramount interest to me because of the unbeatable combination of variety and quantity, and this extends to nearly all types of food. So far I have been to Italian, French, Mexican, American, and Chinese buffets, and breakfast, lunch, and dinner buffets. Doesn't it make your mouth water to think of all that food?
Tonight we chose Chinese. This buffet is especially fantastic because of its crab rangoon. Plus it has desserts. After a heaping plate of my favorites, it was time to consider the last all-important course. Bananas in raspberry sauce, pineapple, orange slices, tapioca and chocolate puddings, cake and pastries... or the crowning glory, soft serve ice cream in three flavors. You remember the old adage, "Ice cream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream"; of course the ice cream won, and it was further improved by adding the bananas and pineapple. I was headed for the hot fudge sauce bucket when I was loudly redirected by our server. I had been inches from dousing my dessert with Moo Shi Sauce. I celebrated the near tragedy by heaping whipped cream over the hot fudge sauce, etc.
While spouse and I dined, we observed our fellow diners and the restaurant staff. The staff bring their children to work every day, or at least every day that we're there, and they are entertaining to watch and overhear. What I find especially nice is that the staff and their family members take plates from the same stack we do, and serve themselves from the same buffet food as we do.
We got moderately interesting fortunes. "Be willing to believe in anything that is good," and "Most people, once they graduate from the School of Hard Knocks, automatically enroll." We didn't really grasp that second one. Maybe we're slow learners.
Afterwards, I had only one question, which is destined to go forever unanswered. Why, with all that scrumptiousness at hand, was our server walking around with a Cup Noodles?
May 15, 2010
Dental Despair
In my early school years, I walked a mile or four to see Dr. Koswan (phonetic spelling), the family dentist. I needed about seventeen fillings because in the 1960s it was neither fashionable nor financially possible to have biannual cleanings. Probably I brushed my teeth as a child, but I don't have any memories of it. What I remember from Dr. Koswan's appointments are wads of cotton and, once, a droplet of mercury on the floor that Dr. K. was trying to pick up with a curled up piece of paper. Maybe he should have used the wad of cotton to soak it up.
Then we moved out of Danvers, and I took my shiny silver fillings away from Dr. Koswan. It would be years before I returned to a dentist's office, and then it was like an instant replay; more cavities, more fillings. If I hadn't had the good fortune to abscess a tooth, it would have been an even longer vacation from that chair that goes up and down.
I reached adulthood with lots of fillings and a serious fear of dentistry, but now I had dental insurance, so there was no financial reason not to go every six months. Which I did. I lied about flossing daily, and didn't realize until years later when I actually started flossing daily that they knew I was lying. I had my wisdom teeth out while I was pregnant with child number two, and healed in record time. It went well, and hearing the impacted tooth crunch and crumble as the dentist wrestled with it didn't faze me. I was gradually losing my fear, and came to look forward to the cleanings.
Once we had children, we started them on the biannual cleaning routine at age three. Meanwhile, water had become fluoridated. As a result, our girls got through their childhoods with only one cavity between them. One day when they both had cleanings, I was told that they both had two cavities, but I refused to believe it. I took the girls for a second opinion, and neither one had a cavity, but they both had a new dentist.
The girls had no cavities, I had no more cavities, I was flossing, things were going well. Isn't dental insurance a wonderful thing? My new adult dentist complained that my mouth was so healthy that he wasn't making any money. The hygienists would tell me that I had a couple of cracked teeth, but it was easy enough to chew on the other side. They mentioned that I ground my teeth and should order a mouth guard, from them, for about $100, not covered by insurance. But there was no pain, and that was the important thing, so I got my own mouth guard from the store, tried it a few nights, and couldn't stand it any more.
Then as I slid out of the forties and into the fifties, things slowly took a turn for the worse. I lost half a molar flossing, and needed a crown, my first. But first the dentist had to laser off the gum that had moved into the spot vacated by the broken tooth. The nitrous oxide put my hands to sleep which would have been perfect if that was where the suffering was. The chair was tilted back so far I was nearly doing a headstand. But I told myself I would have a brand new gold tooth after all this - or at least in a few weeks when they had finished making it from the mold. It was a blast from beginning to end, made even better because insurance covered only half of it.
I had to increase the cleanings to three a year, one of which was not covered by insurance, because I had the beginnings of periodontal disease. I bought an electric toothbrush from the dentist's office, used it faithfully, flossed daily, and hoped for the best. Then for my 52nd birthday, I got an abscessed tooth. This required Advil every four hours until I was able to snag an appointment at the dentist's about six days after the pain and swelling started. Maybe the tooth can be saved, said the dentist, who sent me to a root canal specialist. A root canal! Just what I've always wanted. The specialist took a digital xray and gave me the good news - this tooth cannot be saved. I had reached this conclusion myself. Any time a tooth lifts itself up out of the gum there has to be a serious consequence. It was a back tooth and difficult to hygienisize, anyway.
I called the dentist's office and discussed the pros and cons of having the dentist vs. an oral surgeon. The oral surgeon is much more expensive, said the receptionist, and you would have to wait until the next blue moon. The dentist could do the extraction in a few days. All things considered, I chose the dentist. How bad can it be? I had my wisdom teeth out two at a time, and I walked out of the office with a mouth full of gauze, but I could still walk.
On the big day, I had Novocaine and nitrous oxide, and my head was strapped to the chair. It was not an auspicious beginning. Spouse was in the waiting room and would hear me if I screamed. Which I did not, but there may have been some whimpering, especially when she was digging into the gum for stray pieces of broken tooth. It was a frightful, horrendous experience and it went on for an hour and a half. I did manage to walk out of there, and would have run if I wasn't still light-headed from chemical ingestion. Then I got to experience day-after face swelling so amazing that co-workers told me I looked awful and should go home. Speaking was difficult as my lips no longer met and my words were slurred so I took their advice, and then stayed home another day.
A week after the extraction I went back so the stitches could be ripped out. Tiny food particles had gotten lodged into the new vacancy and I had had some shooting pain in my jaw because of it. The dentist got her vacuum cleaner and took care of that little problem while I tried very hard not to cry. She then applied some plaster of paris-like stuff to the wound and said that it should help to keep more food out. We didn't want the gum healing over food particles which would get infected, did we? Speaking for myself, that would be a resounding NO. One of my favorite moments that day was when I was in the chair, tilted way back once again into that oh-so-familiar position, and heard the dentist tell her assistant to schedule a crown for the tooth next to the extraction. No, thank you. Thank you. No.
In the next month, I had an appointment for a cleaning. Cleanings were done on the "other" side of the office, and the hygienist has always been gentle, so in I went. I overheard the receptionist saying farewells to the hygienist, and learned that it was her last day there, and that she was moving to another office in town. That was all I needed to hear.
My new dentist, who has a great, familiar hygienist wink wink, does not use nitrous oxide. If a tooth needs to be extracted, the patient is sent to an oral surgeon who presumably anesthetizes the patient to unconsciousness or close to it. Isn't that the way surgery should be?
During my second cleaning appointment at the new office, my new dentist strongly suggested scaling my teeth because of the deep pockets my gums have developed which seek and hold bacteria, leading to serious gum problems. These scalings are done in four quadrants, and are only 50% covered by insurance, and they sound 100% painful and unpleasant. If left untreated, there will probably be a need for gum surgery which removes the gum where the pockets have gotten too large. Maybe with a laser, maybe a chain saw, I'm not sure. I elected to heal myself by flossing and brushing three times a day and using both a plaque and a fluoride rinse to postpone the possibly inevitable.
Part of me is convinced that dentists will do anything to us that our insurance will cover, especially in this economy. But there is another part that is gearing up for what comes next, because "just say no" isn't always enough to chase away the low-down, mean-old, dreaded dental blues.
Then we moved out of Danvers, and I took my shiny silver fillings away from Dr. Koswan. It would be years before I returned to a dentist's office, and then it was like an instant replay; more cavities, more fillings. If I hadn't had the good fortune to abscess a tooth, it would have been an even longer vacation from that chair that goes up and down.
I reached adulthood with lots of fillings and a serious fear of dentistry, but now I had dental insurance, so there was no financial reason not to go every six months. Which I did. I lied about flossing daily, and didn't realize until years later when I actually started flossing daily that they knew I was lying. I had my wisdom teeth out while I was pregnant with child number two, and healed in record time. It went well, and hearing the impacted tooth crunch and crumble as the dentist wrestled with it didn't faze me. I was gradually losing my fear, and came to look forward to the cleanings.
Once we had children, we started them on the biannual cleaning routine at age three. Meanwhile, water had become fluoridated. As a result, our girls got through their childhoods with only one cavity between them. One day when they both had cleanings, I was told that they both had two cavities, but I refused to believe it. I took the girls for a second opinion, and neither one had a cavity, but they both had a new dentist.
The girls had no cavities, I had no more cavities, I was flossing, things were going well. Isn't dental insurance a wonderful thing? My new adult dentist complained that my mouth was so healthy that he wasn't making any money. The hygienists would tell me that I had a couple of cracked teeth, but it was easy enough to chew on the other side. They mentioned that I ground my teeth and should order a mouth guard, from them, for about $100, not covered by insurance. But there was no pain, and that was the important thing, so I got my own mouth guard from the store, tried it a few nights, and couldn't stand it any more.
Then as I slid out of the forties and into the fifties, things slowly took a turn for the worse. I lost half a molar flossing, and needed a crown, my first. But first the dentist had to laser off the gum that had moved into the spot vacated by the broken tooth. The nitrous oxide put my hands to sleep which would have been perfect if that was where the suffering was. The chair was tilted back so far I was nearly doing a headstand. But I told myself I would have a brand new gold tooth after all this - or at least in a few weeks when they had finished making it from the mold. It was a blast from beginning to end, made even better because insurance covered only half of it.
I had to increase the cleanings to three a year, one of which was not covered by insurance, because I had the beginnings of periodontal disease. I bought an electric toothbrush from the dentist's office, used it faithfully, flossed daily, and hoped for the best. Then for my 52nd birthday, I got an abscessed tooth. This required Advil every four hours until I was able to snag an appointment at the dentist's about six days after the pain and swelling started. Maybe the tooth can be saved, said the dentist, who sent me to a root canal specialist. A root canal! Just what I've always wanted. The specialist took a digital xray and gave me the good news - this tooth cannot be saved. I had reached this conclusion myself. Any time a tooth lifts itself up out of the gum there has to be a serious consequence. It was a back tooth and difficult to hygienisize, anyway.
I called the dentist's office and discussed the pros and cons of having the dentist vs. an oral surgeon. The oral surgeon is much more expensive, said the receptionist, and you would have to wait until the next blue moon. The dentist could do the extraction in a few days. All things considered, I chose the dentist. How bad can it be? I had my wisdom teeth out two at a time, and I walked out of the office with a mouth full of gauze, but I could still walk.
On the big day, I had Novocaine and nitrous oxide, and my head was strapped to the chair. It was not an auspicious beginning. Spouse was in the waiting room and would hear me if I screamed. Which I did not, but there may have been some whimpering, especially when she was digging into the gum for stray pieces of broken tooth. It was a frightful, horrendous experience and it went on for an hour and a half. I did manage to walk out of there, and would have run if I wasn't still light-headed from chemical ingestion. Then I got to experience day-after face swelling so amazing that co-workers told me I looked awful and should go home. Speaking was difficult as my lips no longer met and my words were slurred so I took their advice, and then stayed home another day.
A week after the extraction I went back so the stitches could be ripped out. Tiny food particles had gotten lodged into the new vacancy and I had had some shooting pain in my jaw because of it. The dentist got her vacuum cleaner and took care of that little problem while I tried very hard not to cry. She then applied some plaster of paris-like stuff to the wound and said that it should help to keep more food out. We didn't want the gum healing over food particles which would get infected, did we? Speaking for myself, that would be a resounding NO. One of my favorite moments that day was when I was in the chair, tilted way back once again into that oh-so-familiar position, and heard the dentist tell her assistant to schedule a crown for the tooth next to the extraction. No, thank you. Thank you. No.
In the next month, I had an appointment for a cleaning. Cleanings were done on the "other" side of the office, and the hygienist has always been gentle, so in I went. I overheard the receptionist saying farewells to the hygienist, and learned that it was her last day there, and that she was moving to another office in town. That was all I needed to hear.
My new dentist, who has a great, familiar hygienist wink wink, does not use nitrous oxide. If a tooth needs to be extracted, the patient is sent to an oral surgeon who presumably anesthetizes the patient to unconsciousness or close to it. Isn't that the way surgery should be?
During my second cleaning appointment at the new office, my new dentist strongly suggested scaling my teeth because of the deep pockets my gums have developed which seek and hold bacteria, leading to serious gum problems. These scalings are done in four quadrants, and are only 50% covered by insurance, and they sound 100% painful and unpleasant. If left untreated, there will probably be a need for gum surgery which removes the gum where the pockets have gotten too large. Maybe with a laser, maybe a chain saw, I'm not sure. I elected to heal myself by flossing and brushing three times a day and using both a plaque and a fluoride rinse to postpone the possibly inevitable.
Part of me is convinced that dentists will do anything to us that our insurance will cover, especially in this economy. But there is another part that is gearing up for what comes next, because "just say no" isn't always enough to chase away the low-down, mean-old, dreaded dental blues.
January 31, 2010
Mister Rogers to MTV
When I was growing up, our family always had one television, and it was always black and white. There were 3 - 5 channels; 4, 5, 7, and sometimes 2 and 10. I liked to get up early on weekend days, before everyone else in the family, just to watch The Three Stooges, Davey and Goliath, or anything that was on. I was mesmerised by Mister Rogers and I always wished that Miss Jean would look into her Romper Room magic mirror and see me. Despite never hearing my name, I knew that television was magic and scary because of something that happened one morning.
I was sitting on the couch watching Jack Lalanne, alone as usual, when he said TO ME, "Put down that candy and get up off that couch." I was terrorized because he could see me through that TV screen, right down to the candy I was holding. I jumped off the couch and used evasive maneuvers to sneak over and turn off that evil TV. My little heart was pounding, but I knew I was safe once he couldn't see me. I didn't give up watching early morning TV, but I did give up watching Jack Lalanne.
We children really didn't watch TV during the day. We were told to "go out and play," as were all the kids in the neighborhood. There were shows that we were never allowed to watch, and those were soap operas and Twilight Zone. I didn't watch either until I was married, and then I understood my mother's rules.
As teenagers, we took serious interest in TV, and I appreciated the excitement of September. As unpleasant as it was to go back to school, at least we had the new TV shows to watch. Laugh In was a favorite in our house, and although I didn't always know why my father would laugh uproariously at some of the skits, I did get some of them, and enjoyed the show. On Monday nights we would have a conflict because The Monkees and Gilligan's Island were on opposite each other. My mother solved that squabble by having us take turns on Mondays. Saturday nights our parents would sometimes go out, and the eldest of the kids would stay up late and watch Hogan's Heroes. The stress of babysitting the younger kids required snacks, so we would have ice cream when we were lucky. There was never any temptation to watch the forbidden shows as, living in a creaky old house, we had enough fodder for nightmares if we were looking for some.
Once spouse and I were married, we got our own TV, a Magnavox console, color, of course. It was big and beautiful, and the roomy, flat top could hold all kinds of stuff. Then we had our first child, and I stayed home with her full time. This is when I started checking out The Soaps, but when I realized that the televised emotional turmoil was affecting me I had to give them up. When our little one was almost two, spouse discovered some new technology, a new toy, a VCR. He had to be the first on his block to get one, and he handed over $800 for the privilege. This was 1979. We began wearing a path to the store to rent their VHS tapes. What a concept, to be able to watch a movie, pause it, then resume watching.
I didn't have a "forbidden" TV show list for our girls, but I never got them started on Sesame Street. Mister Rogers was a favorite, and when I told my mother that my daughter answered Mister Rogers' questions, she told me that I had done the same thing. Once I got a part time job, spouse would watch TV with the girls at night, and their favorites were the Muppets and Hee Haw. Hee Haw, according to our elder daughter, had to be watched from the floor, not the couch. Spouse never learned why, but he went along with it. Once MTV was born, some may have felt that video killed the radio star, but I loved my MTV. The girls weren't into it much, but they did like to watch some of the videos. "Thriller" was a favorite of only one of the girls; our younger daughter was always afraid of it. It was a creep fest, although very well done.
We did try to prevent nightmares, for the girls and for us, and when "Pee Wee's Big Adventure" was on, I would tell the girls to close their eyes for the 'Large Marge' segment. To this day, our older daughter has not seen Marge's face, but not because she is afraid, only because of lack of opportunity. When we do watch TV together, it is shows like CSI and Bones. Our younger daughter prefers less graphic TV, but likes action/adventures and romantic comedy. With over 900 channels on the cable box, there are plenty of choices for all of us. But it's good to have the VCR and On Demand ready at a moment's notice. Just In Case there's nothing on TV. We have all come a long way since Mister Rogers.
I was sitting on the couch watching Jack Lalanne, alone as usual, when he said TO ME, "Put down that candy and get up off that couch." I was terrorized because he could see me through that TV screen, right down to the candy I was holding. I jumped off the couch and used evasive maneuvers to sneak over and turn off that evil TV. My little heart was pounding, but I knew I was safe once he couldn't see me. I didn't give up watching early morning TV, but I did give up watching Jack Lalanne.
We children really didn't watch TV during the day. We were told to "go out and play," as were all the kids in the neighborhood. There were shows that we were never allowed to watch, and those were soap operas and Twilight Zone. I didn't watch either until I was married, and then I understood my mother's rules.
As teenagers, we took serious interest in TV, and I appreciated the excitement of September. As unpleasant as it was to go back to school, at least we had the new TV shows to watch. Laugh In was a favorite in our house, and although I didn't always know why my father would laugh uproariously at some of the skits, I did get some of them, and enjoyed the show. On Monday nights we would have a conflict because The Monkees and Gilligan's Island were on opposite each other. My mother solved that squabble by having us take turns on Mondays. Saturday nights our parents would sometimes go out, and the eldest of the kids would stay up late and watch Hogan's Heroes. The stress of babysitting the younger kids required snacks, so we would have ice cream when we were lucky. There was never any temptation to watch the forbidden shows as, living in a creaky old house, we had enough fodder for nightmares if we were looking for some.
Once spouse and I were married, we got our own TV, a Magnavox console, color, of course. It was big and beautiful, and the roomy, flat top could hold all kinds of stuff. Then we had our first child, and I stayed home with her full time. This is when I started checking out The Soaps, but when I realized that the televised emotional turmoil was affecting me I had to give them up. When our little one was almost two, spouse discovered some new technology, a new toy, a VCR. He had to be the first on his block to get one, and he handed over $800 for the privilege. This was 1979. We began wearing a path to the store to rent their VHS tapes. What a concept, to be able to watch a movie, pause it, then resume watching.
I didn't have a "forbidden" TV show list for our girls, but I never got them started on Sesame Street. Mister Rogers was a favorite, and when I told my mother that my daughter answered Mister Rogers' questions, she told me that I had done the same thing. Once I got a part time job, spouse would watch TV with the girls at night, and their favorites were the Muppets and Hee Haw. Hee Haw, according to our elder daughter, had to be watched from the floor, not the couch. Spouse never learned why, but he went along with it. Once MTV was born, some may have felt that video killed the radio star, but I loved my MTV. The girls weren't into it much, but they did like to watch some of the videos. "Thriller" was a favorite of only one of the girls; our younger daughter was always afraid of it. It was a creep fest, although very well done.
We did try to prevent nightmares, for the girls and for us, and when "Pee Wee's Big Adventure" was on, I would tell the girls to close their eyes for the 'Large Marge' segment. To this day, our older daughter has not seen Marge's face, but not because she is afraid, only because of lack of opportunity. When we do watch TV together, it is shows like CSI and Bones. Our younger daughter prefers less graphic TV, but likes action/adventures and romantic comedy. With over 900 channels on the cable box, there are plenty of choices for all of us. But it's good to have the VCR and On Demand ready at a moment's notice. Just In Case there's nothing on TV. We have all come a long way since Mister Rogers.
January 27, 2010
Stop, Drop, and Roll This Shopping Cart Out of Here
When I was a young child, grocery shopping was a great time, An Occasion. When it was my turn to be the one to accompany my mother to the "food store", it was cause for celebration and it required begging and pleading until my mother caved. Looking back, I know that she must have treasured the trips to the food store - if she were lucky enough to get away with none of us in tow. At the time, all I knew was I didn't like my mother's mysterious weekend disappearances (for naps). I would wander around the house looking for her, and when I was unable to find her, I'd ask my father, "Where's Mommy?". His answer was always the same, "She ran off with the pirates." Enough reason to beg, borrow, or steal all the 1:1 time with her that I could.
Flash forward to our newlywed days when spouse and I would go food shopping after work to either Market Basket or Purity Supreme. Food shopping was even more fun now, since we both got to pick out anything we wanted - as long as it fit into the budget. It was a good time. These joint shopping expeditions continued until we had our first child, after which the baby and I did the shopping while spouse was at work. The GM Loveseat, the latest, safest technology at the time, fit into the carriage, and the food fit in around the baby seat. Food shopping was more challenging now, but new mothers adapt. Once our second child was born, food shopping became a solo operation. With both girls in the shopping cart there was little room for the food. And after taking care of the girls all day, then food shopping, I was ready for an easy supper, and that's when I learned to love drive-thru windows. Burger King was close and convenient, and a few hamburgers didn't take too much bite into the food budget. One afternoon at the drive-thru, I ordered the burgers with no drinks, having just stocked up on plenty of everything. At the pick-up window, the nice young girl advised me not to "drink too much milk". Puzzled, I looked over at the other side of the car, loaded with brown bags, and saw the four gallons of milk sitting proudly on the passenger seat. Every body's a comedienne.
Along came the '90s, and I decided that I had had enough shopping, cooking, and cleanup for the evening meal. The girls were growing, and it was time for me to have my "me" decade. We started dining out frequently. Occasionally the girls would accompany us. Occasionally we would bring them back supper. Occasionally they would prepare their own meals. The decrease of the food shopping bill was in direct proportion to the increase in the dining out bill. We are not gourmands, and we ate cheap. The emphasis was on quantity, not quality.
This was when I started to hate food shopping. Why food shop when we hardly eat at home? Well, how else do we get the necessities like detergent, paper products, and cat food? I begrudged the time cruising the aisles, waiting in lines, bagging my own stuff. I tried Stop & Shop's Peapod service, but I never got into the routine of shopping on-line and I didn't like those extra charges on top of the bill. $100 for groceries is too much when there is barely any food involved.
So I decided to rope spouse in to help me food shop because misery does love company. He drove the shopping cart, I selected the items. Except for the ice cream, chips, pretzels, cereal, and Ring Dings. Those are his domain. We would have our supper (out, of course), then head for Shaw's, preferred over Stop & Shop for several reasons. This all worked out well for several years, until this past Sunday. Spouse had the shopping cart, as usual, and I was the search team. I was searching for barley, something I buy once every five years, and I was having trouble finding it, but I did find it. I went back to where I left spouse, and there he was - gone. I walked half the length of the store, and he was nowhere.
I resumed shopping for a few minutes, gathering pudding boxes, soup cans, and by the time my arms were full, spouse had still not reappeared. I went to get a hand basket and dropped everything into it, then went on a serious search for spouse. Once I reached the end of the store, he came around the last aisle, having spent the past ten minutes selecting two cartons of ice cream and one gallon of milk. Eager to share my exasperation, I gave him The Look, then emptied my hand basket into the cart and went to get some bread. Apparently The Look had no affect, because spouse announced that he was going to get the cereal, which is one aisle over from the barley aisle, and the aisle past which he had sped by in his desperate quest for ice cream, which is in the absolute last aisle of the store. This was when I lost my food shopping cool and shouted at him to wait two minutes for me while I picked out some bread. I became one of those people that shouts in public. Decibel-wise it wasn't a true shout, but for me it was a shout. Spouse waited two minutes while I picked out some bread, then we went to the cereal aisle, and all the other aisles that had been missed.
It is time to start shopping after work again. By myself. Maybe this was spouse's plan all along.
Flash forward to our newlywed days when spouse and I would go food shopping after work to either Market Basket or Purity Supreme. Food shopping was even more fun now, since we both got to pick out anything we wanted - as long as it fit into the budget. It was a good time. These joint shopping expeditions continued until we had our first child, after which the baby and I did the shopping while spouse was at work. The GM Loveseat, the latest, safest technology at the time, fit into the carriage, and the food fit in around the baby seat. Food shopping was more challenging now, but new mothers adapt. Once our second child was born, food shopping became a solo operation. With both girls in the shopping cart there was little room for the food. And after taking care of the girls all day, then food shopping, I was ready for an easy supper, and that's when I learned to love drive-thru windows. Burger King was close and convenient, and a few hamburgers didn't take too much bite into the food budget. One afternoon at the drive-thru, I ordered the burgers with no drinks, having just stocked up on plenty of everything. At the pick-up window, the nice young girl advised me not to "drink too much milk". Puzzled, I looked over at the other side of the car, loaded with brown bags, and saw the four gallons of milk sitting proudly on the passenger seat. Every body's a comedienne.
Along came the '90s, and I decided that I had had enough shopping, cooking, and cleanup for the evening meal. The girls were growing, and it was time for me to have my "me" decade. We started dining out frequently. Occasionally the girls would accompany us. Occasionally we would bring them back supper. Occasionally they would prepare their own meals. The decrease of the food shopping bill was in direct proportion to the increase in the dining out bill. We are not gourmands, and we ate cheap. The emphasis was on quantity, not quality.
This was when I started to hate food shopping. Why food shop when we hardly eat at home? Well, how else do we get the necessities like detergent, paper products, and cat food? I begrudged the time cruising the aisles, waiting in lines, bagging my own stuff. I tried Stop & Shop's Peapod service, but I never got into the routine of shopping on-line and I didn't like those extra charges on top of the bill. $100 for groceries is too much when there is barely any food involved.
So I decided to rope spouse in to help me food shop because misery does love company. He drove the shopping cart, I selected the items. Except for the ice cream, chips, pretzels, cereal, and Ring Dings. Those are his domain. We would have our supper (out, of course), then head for Shaw's, preferred over Stop & Shop for several reasons. This all worked out well for several years, until this past Sunday. Spouse had the shopping cart, as usual, and I was the search team. I was searching for barley, something I buy once every five years, and I was having trouble finding it, but I did find it. I went back to where I left spouse, and there he was - gone. I walked half the length of the store, and he was nowhere.
I resumed shopping for a few minutes, gathering pudding boxes, soup cans, and by the time my arms were full, spouse had still not reappeared. I went to get a hand basket and dropped everything into it, then went on a serious search for spouse. Once I reached the end of the store, he came around the last aisle, having spent the past ten minutes selecting two cartons of ice cream and one gallon of milk. Eager to share my exasperation, I gave him The Look, then emptied my hand basket into the cart and went to get some bread. Apparently The Look had no affect, because spouse announced that he was going to get the cereal, which is one aisle over from the barley aisle, and the aisle past which he had sped by in his desperate quest for ice cream, which is in the absolute last aisle of the store. This was when I lost my food shopping cool and shouted at him to wait two minutes for me while I picked out some bread. I became one of those people that shouts in public. Decibel-wise it wasn't a true shout, but for me it was a shout. Spouse waited two minutes while I picked out some bread, then we went to the cereal aisle, and all the other aisles that had been missed.
It is time to start shopping after work again. By myself. Maybe this was spouse's plan all along.
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