99 Reasons: Dirt with the groceries

And other stories.


I've been distracted (it happens, trust me), so I've missed several excuses to boast my 99 Reasons, so I'm going to play catch-up for a second, if you'll allow me.  Not that you have much of a choice.  But you can always click the little x at the top of the screen.  That's always an option.  But if you humor me for a moment, you'll get to see all of my strange finds.



Luckily, in the last week or more, I've had a plethora of excuses to stop by one of my favorite hangouts.  I keep needing little things here and there.


The Dirt with the Groceries







This trip, we picked some random things.  We definitely did.  But that's typical for this store.  And for me.  However, I didn't expect the person helping our cashier to bag our tomato plant with the light bulbs and stick my Smart Ones meals with the soil.  The cherry pies went in there, but those aren't mine.  Mister Man was enjoying watching my face.  I have this concern about my facial expressions, so my method of controlling them apparently consists of me moving my face randomly.  As soon as we headed out the door, I removed from my food from the soil.  I'm rather laid back about people bagging my stuff, but dirt with my food?! REALLY?!  Ugh.  It's going to take me years to get over that.



Fancy Pants and Truffula Trees




I've been wanting some allium bulbs for a while now.  The Pinterestese keep calling them Truffula Trees, which works for me.  I just think they're awesome.  I hope they come up.  Also, I about danced a jig when I found those Fancy Nancy underpants by Hanes.  I love those books!!  It also doesn't hurt that The Redhead looks just like her.  Except she has blue eyes.  Fancy Nancy has brown ones.  I only know this, because The Redhead has been reminding me this since she was three.




Another chance to Topsy Turvy





The Topsy Turvy was so cool, we needed a second one.  And some potato grillers.  And fruit snacks.  And how FANTASTIC is it that they have gluten-free mixes?!



Ocean Potion

I used The Redhead's sunburn as an excuse to stop by.  After all, we needed some Aloe-Vera.  And apparently we needed other items too.




The Redhead loves gum.  We don't get it for her very often, however, if she can chew it with her mouth shut, and without making lots of noise, it's quite fine every now and then.  Also, we love those brownies.  And all of these gluten-free mixes are such an awesome find.  I still can't get over all of them lately.




Kung Fu Shopping

 So, just for the heck of it, I stopped by this location today while running errands.  I never knew Betty Crocker had shortbread cookie mix!  I was also excited about those Lunchables.  And that Ice Cream topping will come in handy for The Redhead's birthday party.






Yes, I know.  I'm addicted.

The Life and Times of a Hula Girl

We've been busy around here enjoying time with our house guests, but I wanted to take a moment to give you a glimpse of the school spirit trapped inside The Redhead.  It's Hawaiian Day at school.


Yes, we're still in school.  Until next Wednesday at 12:10.

Here's our little hula girl.  And by the way, we've had that hula skirt since she was a year old.  True story.  It came with a baby swimsuit I once bought on clearance.  Although it has gotten shorter over the years, so it seems, it has served us well.  Incredibly well.

That time I had to do ALL the Laundry

ALL of it.

At least the laundry in our bedroom closet.  The ones in the dresser were fine, fortunately.  The clean towels piled in a basket, however, were not fine.  And also need washed.  Again.

But I now have four stacks of laundry.  At least.  And each stack is not just one load.  Oh no.  Not at all.  And then after it is all washed, it will of course, need put away.  Joy. So.much.joy.

Did I mention my in laws are coming on Tuesday to stay with us?





I know I'm not the only one that pushes themselves to get a ton of things done, including things that no one cares about, all in anticipation of guests.  And this is the first time we're having guests staying with us for a period of time.  It has little to do with them, but more so that feeling you get where you want to make sure everything is as perfect as you think it should be.  And just as I thought maybe, just maybe I would get everything done, this happened.




This being that time Mister Man decided to choose the Tuesday before his parents came to sand our bedroom walls, the walls that used to have wood paneling on them, until he randomly decided one day to remove it, the walls that have had that nasty vomit-like glue stuck on them for months and months.  Those walls.  And on Tuesday, he decided to sand them.  However, he did not cover anything.  ANYTHING.  Or close our bathroom door.  Or close our closet door.  Or move anything out of the room.  So anything in there or opened has felt the aftermath of that sanding.  An inch or two of white powdery dust occupying every tiny little space and belonging in our room.  And our bathroom.  And most importantly, our closet.  Where all of our clothes are.

I have waited until he was finished with this disaster before I would finally start washing everything.  It feels like we moved again.  Things are ruined.  Forever.  Things need washed.  And I'll be cleaning and dusting and breathing funny for an incredibly long time.  I also have to wipe down every single hanger of ours.  I know he feels bad about it.  But it doesn't change the fact I have a lot of work to do.  A lot of work I didn't originally have to do.  Work that is now added to my massive to-do list.





To top that stress off and all the laundry, I have a rash, only on my left arm and hand, as well as infected cuts all over my hand, from some evil weed I killed out last night while gardening.  Its toxic revenge has worked quickly and my left side aches.  So of course, that's not helping make this any easier.



That, and it took over an hour just to separate all the clothes for washing.

I have so much work ahead of me and so much laundry.  But I know somewhere there is a light at the end of the tunnel.  There has to be.  We have guests coming on Tuesday.  And I know me.  Even if other people will doubt me,  I know what I'm capable of.  It's going to get done.  But it doesn't mean I don't get to grumble about it.  Or laugh.  Or bring this moment up in the future.

99 Reasons: In pursuit of a Skinny Girl

After some painting, cleaning, organizing, and gardening, I decided to head out for a brief break.  At 9 pm.  Of course, this "brief break" meant a trip to the 99 cent store.  I met an older lady who said something strange to me about life without a husband and children is truly the happiest of lives.  I was too transfixed on that tube of SkinnyGirl leg cream.  Just this week, I found the foot spray.  I loved that stuff.  So, I bought more, as well as a bottle of moisturizing oil.  I had looked into the products online, and saw they had a leg cream and I kept thinking, "now that would be the stuff I would want to try."  I even looked at the Retail Giant, as I was willing to pay full price for such a potion.  Alas, they did not have any.  So imagine my joy tonight when I saw it.  I feel guilty, but I grabbed all three tubes on the shelf.  This particular store didn't have any of the other kinds, but I was so glad they had the cream.  I'm hoping it's wonderful.  If I'm not a fan, the other two bottles will go in a donation pile I keep for unwanted items, or items I get for free after coupons.


The Redhead is addicted to those rotini bowls.  I almost feel like a bad parent for letting her have them every now and then, but they do have a Box Top on the back, so that's a positive, right?  Luckily, she is the skinny girl in the family.

An Intimate Night with a Gigolo

Tuesday is date night.  With myself.  That's right, I take myself out.  To the movies.  And this Tuesday I did it with a Fading Gigolo.  Definitely my style.


That's how I do things.


John Turturro.  Woody Allen.  And me.  It sounded like the best sort of trio.  Intimate, even, as I was the only one in the theater.  And then as a plethora of movie trailers played only for me, beautiful indy films I will eventually see, two couples walked into my intimate setting.  They sat separately.  So...it wasn't just John Turturro, Woody Allen, and me.  But alas, that's okay.  I'm glad there are other fans in this world.



Or not.



During the movie, things started happening.  Now I'm fairly entranced by the screen, but since I usually sit in the very back middle of the theater, everyone else is before me, as though I'm on a throne of sorts.  I'm not going to go into details, but let's just say some heavy fondling was most likely going on.  And zippers.  Both couples.  Still separately.  But obviously equally obnoxious.


These four people didn't buy tickets for an indy flick.  No, they came to my movie, my intimate setting...to get well, intimate.  A level of intimacy I don't want to witness.




It reminded me of this time when I was eighteen and this guy I knew was complaining about his horrible experience in the theater and how these people right by him were disturbing him as they were misbehaving in that sort of way, and he had to get a manager.  He ended up scoring free movie tickets out of the ordeal, but he wasn't thrilled about it at all.  Honestly, I was more intrigued by the fact he too went to movies by himself.  It shouldn't surprise me though.  We were born on the exact same day, in the same exact year, at the same hospital.  We both liked cats, Frank Sinatra (his cat was named Sinatra), we loved the same music, the same favorite books, had the same theological questions, and that's just the short list of similarities.  And no, we did not date, as dating yourself is rarely a good idea.


Unless it's your actual self.  And you're taking yourself to a movie.  See what I did right there?  Full circle.



And there I was, on a date with myself.  And John Turturro.  And Woody Allen. We were not misbehaving in that sort of exhibitionist way, as well, that'd be just a wee bit odd for me and a behavior saved for has-been celebrities.  And since I'm not a voyeur, it was a bit uncomfortable.  Luckily, the movie was absolutely fantastic.  It was so marvelous, I was able to mostly forget anything was going on before me.



And then the credits rolled.  The lights came back on early.  And one of the couples stood up, she arranged her skirt, turning it around, and he finished pulling up his jeans and zipped his zipper.  And then any chance of me forgetting what was going on had vanished.  And there I was, in the back of the theater.  Alone.  Woody was gone.  So was John.  Just me.  And my blushing cheeks.  My unfading reddened cheeks.

99 Reasons: Cereal Shopper

Yes, yes, I know.  I was just there yesterday.  However, I had an errand to run and that seemed like a valid excuse to stop by.  And then it reminded me that I should have bought more than one box of the Quaker Squares cereal yesterday.  I love that stuff.  I was first hooked on it during my pregnancy a decade ago, and that cereal is full of folic acid.  While entertaining the thought to buy more, but not for the same reason from a decade ago, there was a lady in the aisle stocking up.  She bought so many boxes of the same cereal.  As well as the Quaker version of Cheerios and some Fiber One.  I'm not sure where she's going to keep it all.  Perhaps a bomb shelter.  I heard her tell the cashier in her very brilliant English accent that since it doesn't expire for a while, it's the time to stock up.  Well, I'll give her that.  

While I did not buy baskets of cereal, I did find some other items that caught my curious eyes.  And now maybe I'll finally go do something a tad more productive than my scavenger shopping.

The Days of the Pow-Wow

It felt like such a Midwest thing.  The Pow-Wow Days.  It's a term I would hear growing up.  Pow-wow.  People would use it to describe an event or a friendly gathering.  But all I want do is hold out my hand like a gun and go powpowpowpow.  I can't explain why.



If you live around here, it's a festival over the course of four days.  There is music, mostly a carnival, typical carnival food, and a few other miscellaneous areas.  Especially all the carnies.  On Saturday there was a parade, so we thought we should probably attend, just to check it out.  After all, we need to become locals.



After watching said parade, I'm not sure we want to be locals, at least not associated with the locals that we found ourselves standing next to.  In our defense, we were standing there first.  And we kept being pushed over as their group kept expanding.  They never actually asked us to move, but when someone stands on my foot and shoves against my purse, yeah, I'm going to move.  It kept happening.  And I kept moving.



They spoke inappropriately, including the teenager with them.  One of the guys came up to the group speaking about his prostate, just because.  As though this is a usual reference for him.  And not in that little-old-man-from-church kind of way, talking about his health ailments.  No, this was more like a, "I have to scratch my balls" announcement.  I instantly felt uncomfortable and that feeling continued until the parade was over, partially because I kept getting stepped on and pushed against, and partially because I can be a bit of an anti-social snob.



My husband used to say this was a Midwest behavior.  Not mine, but the people there at the parade.  Obviously it doesn't matter whether you're in The Midwest or the West Coast.  These people exist.  So do their "pow-wows" and inappropriate comments.  Regardless of where they live, there are going to people with a complete lack of regard for others.  They're going to shove their way through, speak terribly around other people's children, spit on the sidewalk as it splatters on you, and see absolutely nothing wrong with their behaviors.



It doesn't matter where you live.


Next time, we'll stand on the other side of the street.  And when we end up next to the same people, we'll move.  But I'll still take photos.  Because no matter where we live or who is standing beside me, that's what I do.