Grocery Store Mania

Ok, just go with me on this one and you'll get the drift I'm sure.

You walk into the grocery store that is your normal shopping destination. The one (actually two) that I most frequent places me in the produce section when I walk through the main entrance. I wiggle my way around the free-standing tables displaying all the beautiful fruits and vegetables, proceed through the bakery area, peruse the meat section then begin the familiar trail of walking up and down the many rows. When I am finished with the entire process I find myself in the Beauty/Health section at the opposite end of the building. Believing I am done collecting the items on my list and in my little stack of coupons, I purposely review that list to make sure I haven't forgotten something and not realize that until I'm in line or have arrived back home.

So here's my dilemma and aggrevation: Now that I have walked the entire two miles through this establishment the size of a football field, being diligent and efficient as possible, I spy the letters "spag sauce" wedged between "lasag" (my shorthand for lasagne noodles) and "pep pkg" (again my language for a package of pepperoni slices). You see my child has asked me to make my recipe for this favorite dish during the weekend when he will be in town I now have this huge obligatory responisibility, as a mother, to fulfull that request.

Thus my frustration...... I know you can share in this feeling of pure agitation because I am sure this has happened to you as well.....Right?? @#!!? AAGGH !!*?# I have to trudge ALL THE WAY BACK TO THE FRONT OF THE STORE where the tomato sauces, etc, are shelved in order to grab the stupid can of Hunts Spaghetti Sauce (no slam on the product in any way--I heartily recommend you try this if you haven't--tastes like homemade) that I just have to have.

I whip my cart around and dare any unwary customer or employeeto get in my way as I powerwalk my way back down the football field to Aisle #2!!! And when the check-out cashier asks me how I am?? I smile beautifully and with effortless aplomb, respond, "Just fine, thank you. And how about you?". The Stepford Wives would be so proud.

A True Gemini -- Whatever That Means

I was in our hall bathroom last week and for whatever reason took notice that the outside doorknob was a copper color and the inside was silver. Obvious reason was that all the knobs on the "hall" side are the former, and the later is because all of the bathroom features are chrome. Makes total sense.

But what struck me was how it was a metaphor of the dicotomy of my sense of self. Because my astrological sign is the twins (*I must insert some contractual "small print' here that I am NO student nor have ANY knowledge about this subject. Really NOT my thing), I have always used it as an excuse. If I said something that was quote "out of character" then I would shrug my shoulders, get an oops expression on my face and blame my evil twin for what just came out of my mouth or for my unanticipated or unappreciated action. It got me off the hook more than once, let me tell you, because the person would laugh and let their initial reaction go.

When redecorating even I have beautiful taste, and I really do, I find myself in a quandry over fabrics and styles because there exists inside this body two opposing opinions to deal with constantly. Do I want something shamelessly classic and elegant.....or something fun and funky and free? Does the gorgeous Queen Anne desk appeal? But won't the assymetrial glass table with chunky stone supports do just as well for that same purpose? I am picky about colors but both sides of me totally agreed on the tones and hues that I adore. Whew!! Thank heavens.

And clothes. I LOVE the classic pieces, simple clean lines. Add some fabulous garnishes like a scarf, jewelry and cute shoes...and off you go!! Then every once in a while I will bring home something vampy or really trendy or artsy (thinking how TERRIFIC I look) and my husband raises an eyebrow and questions not only my selection but my sanity.

I have said many times to those who know me that if we were all named the same (think of a name--pick a name--Mary, Susie, Lisa, whatever) then it would be a very boring world. Right?? We all need to be inidividuals who add our own spices to the humanity stew to make it colorful. Orginial. Flavorful. Unexpected. So.....what's your special ingredient, all you readers out there?

Tombstones

My husband and I were giggling the other night over what we would carve on our tombstones. I have been to many a cemetery. Civil War battlefields, National Cemeteries, family plots. I have read lots and lots of stones and lots and lots of memorials. So I have a collection of mental references for styles and shapes and messages left for eternity.

I always wanted to build a mausolium. How cool would that be? Like the above ground New Orleans grave sites. Personal statements. My other half wasn't interested in that concept. Rats! So now I have switched my focus to the wording I want to leave behind.

"I told you I wasn't feeling well" was what the husband of a coworker jokingly determined he wanted. "Waiting...." was the only word on a stone for a lady (and I am in awe of her message -- every wish, every emotion, total faith all in those seven letters).

Now me?? With my sense of humor? "What happened??!?" would appeal. Or "What are you looking at?". "Everything is a choice" would fit with my philosophy of life. How about "Now I get to eat all the chocolate I want...and you can't!!"

Think about your legacy in stone. I'm still contemplating the possibilities. My poor husband. If my path is to follow his....then he's got no chance, does he?

Casual = Casualty

I looked aghast at the television set Monday night when President Obama closed his press conference with "Thanks, you guys" and left the podium. I looked at my husband and said, "Did I just hear him correctly? Did he actually say "you guys??" "You heard what I heard" he responded.

I am sorry. Call me a fuddy-duddy. I DO NOT care. But for the President of the United States to end a nationally televised gathering in the East Room with that kind of salutation was pathetic. I understand that he and his wife have decided to be "transparent" and "down to earth" but really...... Don't insult my intelligence. And don't act like your my buddy on the bowling team, either.

Whether you are a clerk in a store, the gentleman who collects the garbage, the neighborhood paper boy or a corporate executive. Manners are manners. Expectations are allowed to be expectations. Break the culture down and you end up with broken "culture". Right? (Hey!!Maybe I should print some bumper stickers with that message!!)

So keep getting out the good china and teach your children how to use it. (I have had several conversations about a table set with sterling flatware. Best advice? "Always work from the outside in" AND subtly watch those seated around you for cues as well.) Make your family dress up for special occasions. Take them to nice restaurants so everyone can practice what they have learned. Good manners are always recognized and appreciated no matter where you are on the planet, no matter who you are with, no matter the age range in the people who surround you. Potential employers, customers, professors, neighbors ~~ALL are impressed with beautifully executed habits.

Oh! The next time a server at your favorite eating establishment welcomes you and your girlfriend with "How are you guys today?" kindly look at them with a beautiful smile and quietly, yet politely, point out that you are indeed two very lovely ladies. Their face will reflect their surprise and they will quickly agree with you. And I bet you this subtle lesson will remain with them when they wait on ladies in the future. How do I know this?? Hmmmmmm. Let's just say I speak from personal experience.......

Scratchy Clothes Tags

Pet Peeve. Pet Peeve. Pet Peeve.

Ok, now that I have that gush out of my system let's calm down and have a little chat. In the good old days there was a label sewn on the neck or at the waistband of a new garment which listed the size and fabric content on the front and laundry instructions on the back. Simple. Easy.

AND soft.

But now...NOW...these have become offensive, rough and crudely finished instruments of pure torture. These are seemingly hazardous to your health as well as distracting to the point of self-mutilation (trying to reach behind your neck to cut the offender out!!?#*!).

Perhaps this part of some quiet, deep, dark and evil scheme to take over the world.

It's working.

You Can Only Laugh

We've all been there. You just walked into the restroom after a very important corporate meeting attended by ALL the higher-ups you want/have been trying to impress. You go to the sink and start to wash your hands. You look up into the mirror after applying soap and turning on the water. You check your hair, fac.....NOOOOOOOO!!!!!! YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!! =WAIT= Maybe it's the lights. You close your eyes and hang your head trying to wrap your head around the ice cold embarrassment currently rushing through your veins. Bravely you slowly gather your courage and allow your chin to rise, daring you to look again, squinting with dubious hope at your reflection that what you thought you saw really isn't there.

Yep....that confirms it. So much for your upwardly mobile path to success in this company. The piece of spinach from the salad you grabbed before that planning session is still firmly implanted between two teeth in all it's glory. Hard to miss that rich, vibrant green blob which contrasts so beautifully against your brilliant pearly whites. Again, hope springs eternal!! Maybe no one saw it. Really. Just maybe. So you pretend to talk watching your lips mask your teeth at different angles as you recreate the words you spoke at the conference table to confirm your hypothesis. Tilting your head a little this way, a little that. A soft giggle. Sweet smile. Turn your head to the right. To the left.

That totally clarifies any gray area you had. You're toast. No way around it. You are now --this VERY instant -- water cooler fodder. You calmly accept your fate and you begin to plan how to arrange all of your apartment furniture here in this lovely restroom as you plan NEVER to leave these four walls ever ever again.

Realizing you can't realistically spend the next four hours in the Ladies Room without raising some sort of alarm among your co-workers you harden your resolve to leave your sanctuary of safety. Lifting your head, straightening your spine, squaring your shoulders, you turn and re-enter the hall heading toward your cubicle. As you turn the corner you abruptly come face to face with the VP who is not only the key to that aforementioned upward mobility....but he is so darned cute AND single AND the subject of a nighttime dream or two. As he slows his pace to pass you, he slightly lowers his head to quietly whisper, "Don't worry. I'm impressed you eat spinach. And by the way you look very nice in green."

Wow!! Did he just ask me out???!? Obviously not but when life gives you lemons..... or a big unnoticed food spot on your blouse or a wide open zipper in your slacks or that pervervbial piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of your shoe..... always remember to make lemonaide!!!!!