1. The way the bub has taken to putting on my tennis shoes and walking around, as if in snow shoes, looking quite pleased with himself.
2. My negative experience at Costco on Friday wherein most of the items I purchased (and there were many items, I think the total was $220 or so) were packed into one giant box. I needed an escort to the door because the huge box was in a separate cart from the one I started the visit in, the one that contained the bub. When I complained to my escort that I couldn't lift that box into my car much less carry it into the house, she had the gall to reply, "It's just my job to get you to the door." Was I infuriated? Did I call and speak with a manager when I arrived home (after hauling in a sixty pound box, of course)? You bet.
3. The fact that I will not be watching Celebrity Apprentice come January when it becomes NBC's attempt at Must See TV to replace 30 Rock and The Office, nor should you . . . if we don't watch the Donald, NBC and the other studios might be more motivated to make a deal that will end the writer's strike and bring back The Office. I would choose Michael Scott over Donald Trump for my boss any day.
4. The fact that I made a modified version of pigs-in-a-blanket for the bub's dinner this evening. I was inspired by my sister LAP and my recent trip to Costco (see #2) where I inexplicably purchased a four-pack of crescent rolls. He responded by digging through the crescent roll and the melted cheese to pick out the pieces of hot dog I had cut up and put inside. Clearly, he was not impressed. My husband, who just arrived home after a late night at the office, ate the remaining pigs-in-a-blanket and commented, "Did you really make these? They taste so gourmet." At least I impressed one member of this household. NTB.
5. The reason I am so weary: I finally finished tweaking my third chapter and sent it off to my dissertation director. NTB!!!!!!!! I'm more than halfway there!
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Sniffing the season.
I like walking outside this time of year. It's not yet so cold that I am miserable.* It's merely invigorating. The air has that winter, snow-on-the-horizon, Christmas-is-coming scent that I love. So, when my husband needed to head to the office for a few hours this morning, I decided the bub and I would go outside and get invigorated. I was wary of the park because it rained yesterday. I wasn't sure I was up for bub and a sandbox full of mud and wet sand. (When he got home, the hubby was a prince and took the bub to the park and let him play in that sand box). I decided the bub and I would walk to Walgreens, which is maybe a mile and a half away. What did I need and/or want from Walgreens? A candy cane pen.
Surely you've seen candy cane pens. They are pens in the shape of very skinny candy canes, predominantly red with thin white stripes. For years, these pens were a constant in our St. Nick's stockings (my mom put together awesome St. Nick's stockings, NTB). I have distinct and wonderful memories of using the candy cane pens during finals time in college. I marveled at how smoothly the candy cane pen wrote. I enjoyed being able to hook the pen behind my ear--it is a cane, after all--when it took my fancy. Most of all, I loved the smell of the candy cane pen's peppermint- scented ink. Loved it to the point of picking up pages of notes I had taken and sniffing them with gusto. Loved it to the point where I would find specks of blue ink near my nostrils.
I probably received my last candy cane pen sometime during college, but that candy cane was literally the gift that kept on giving. Over the next four years or so, that candy cane pen would turn up from time to time. I used it once to edit a paper I wrote on The Merchant of Venice and Othello for a master's class, a paper that I wrote around Thanksgiving time. Several times, I serendipitously happened upon the candy cane pen when I had a stack of student essays or projects to grade. When you're reading your sixth personal narrative about moving to Mason or about how someone's best friend has "always been there for" her, peppermint-scented ink can really be a solace.
Looking back, I'm not sure how I made it through my first few years of graduate school in Chicago. How did I crank out those 25-page final papers without a candy cane pen? How did I get into that special finals-will-end and Christmas-will-come mood without one? I'm telling you there's nothing like a candy cane pen for helping you craft a thesis statement. Nothing like a candy cane pen to remind you of the joys, food, and free time ahead once the damn papers are finished.
The bub and I made it to Walgreens feeling invigorated. I scavenged the holiday aisle until I found the display. There they were: candy cane pens at 3/$1.00. In my excitement, I purchased six. Just hours ago, I took one out to make a Target list. The words "baby wash," "trash bags," "printer paper," and "dollar-aisle holiday books and cutlery" appeared in black ink. But candy cane pens are supposed to write in blue ink. And, though I distinctly remember the display touting "peppermint-scented ink," I haven't had a whiff yet. And candy cane pens are supposed to smell wonderful. Apparently these pens have changed in the last ten years or so. I am still holding out hope that the candy cane pen of my fond memory is out there, and I ask you readers to scour the drug and novelty stores in your area for a candy cane pen that writes in blue ink and smells like heaven. Until then, I will muddle through with the six inferior pens I have. I'm even going to try to simulate a sort of finals-time experience as a way to trick myself into making more progress on my dissertation. At least my nose will stay clean in the process. NTB.
*NTB, but I just purchased a new North Face puff coat (with a coupon, NTB) so I don't plan to be miserably cold anytime soon.
Surely you've seen candy cane pens. They are pens in the shape of very skinny candy canes, predominantly red with thin white stripes. For years, these pens were a constant in our St. Nick's stockings (my mom put together awesome St. Nick's stockings, NTB). I have distinct and wonderful memories of using the candy cane pens during finals time in college. I marveled at how smoothly the candy cane pen wrote. I enjoyed being able to hook the pen behind my ear--it is a cane, after all--when it took my fancy. Most of all, I loved the smell of the candy cane pen's peppermint- scented ink. Loved it to the point of picking up pages of notes I had taken and sniffing them with gusto. Loved it to the point where I would find specks of blue ink near my nostrils.
I probably received my last candy cane pen sometime during college, but that candy cane was literally the gift that kept on giving. Over the next four years or so, that candy cane pen would turn up from time to time. I used it once to edit a paper I wrote on The Merchant of Venice and Othello for a master's class, a paper that I wrote around Thanksgiving time. Several times, I serendipitously happened upon the candy cane pen when I had a stack of student essays or projects to grade. When you're reading your sixth personal narrative about moving to Mason or about how someone's best friend has "always been there for" her, peppermint-scented ink can really be a solace.
Looking back, I'm not sure how I made it through my first few years of graduate school in Chicago. How did I crank out those 25-page final papers without a candy cane pen? How did I get into that special finals-will-end and Christmas-will-come mood without one? I'm telling you there's nothing like a candy cane pen for helping you craft a thesis statement. Nothing like a candy cane pen to remind you of the joys, food, and free time ahead once the damn papers are finished.
The bub and I made it to Walgreens feeling invigorated. I scavenged the holiday aisle until I found the display. There they were: candy cane pens at 3/$1.00. In my excitement, I purchased six. Just hours ago, I took one out to make a Target list. The words "baby wash," "trash bags," "printer paper," and "dollar-aisle holiday books and cutlery" appeared in black ink. But candy cane pens are supposed to write in blue ink. And, though I distinctly remember the display touting "peppermint-scented ink," I haven't had a whiff yet. And candy cane pens are supposed to smell wonderful. Apparently these pens have changed in the last ten years or so. I am still holding out hope that the candy cane pen of my fond memory is out there, and I ask you readers to scour the drug and novelty stores in your area for a candy cane pen that writes in blue ink and smells like heaven. Until then, I will muddle through with the six inferior pens I have. I'm even going to try to simulate a sort of finals-time experience as a way to trick myself into making more progress on my dissertation. At least my nose will stay clean in the process. NTB.
*NTB, but I just purchased a new North Face puff coat (with a coupon, NTB) so I don't plan to be miserably cold anytime soon.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Do so, do so, read Richard Russo.
Last weekend, I watched the movie Nobody's Fool. It's an older film, 1993 I think, and has a good cast that includes Paul Newman, Bruce Willis, Melanie Griffith, Jessica Tandy, Philip Seymour Hoffman, and the nice doctor from Nip/Tuck. Watching this film was a momentous occasion because it was a Blockbuster Online (like Netflix) selection that had sat unwatched on our mantle for at least seven weeks. To be fair, Flags of Our Fathers--the hubby's selection--kept it company on the mantle and is as yet unwatched. I enjoyed the film a great deal because I felt like it did justice to the novel that inspired it. Sure, the film didn't capture all the nuances, delights, and character details of the novel, but it did not violate the novel's integrity either. My husband stopped watching halfway through, noting that the film was more character than plot driven. An astute observation actually and one of the reasons I love, love, love the novels of Richard Russo: his characters are wonderful.
Richard Russo's characters are wonderful--wonderful, that is, in their imperfection, vulnerability, and occasional selfishness and then wonderful in their moments of kindness, generosity, and humor. In short, they are so very human. Richard Russo makes it impossible to write any of them off, even the worst of them. You feel like you know these people. You care what happens to them. You delight in the unexpected but meaningful connections and bonds they form. You marvel at how right Russo gets them. He is so observant and so compassionate. He creates people like you and me. People just doing the best they can.
Most of his novels are set in small, depressed, industrial (or formerly industrial) towns in upstate New York. Typically, Russo gives readers glimpses into the lives of characters on various sides of the tracks in these towns. His endings are not out and out happy, but they are satisfying.
I recently finished Russo's most recent novel, Bridge of Sighs. It lacked some of the humor present in his other novels, but I absolutely loved it. Here is a passage that is particularly fine: "The line of gray along the horizon is brighter now, and with the coming light I feel a certainty: that there is, despite our wild imaginings, only one life. . . . The one life we're left with is sufficient to fill and refill our imperfect hearts with joy, and then to shatter them. And it never, ever lets up. Blame love." (463). It's the filling and refilling more than the shattering that gets me.
As so often happens when I try to write or talk about books that I love, I fail to do them justice. So I'll just stop here and recommend Richard Russo if you're in need of reading material. Empire Falls, Nobody's Fool, Straight Man, The Risk Pool . . . I love and have read them all.* NTB. Taste in books is subjective, and some of you may not love Richard Russo's novels as I do, but I'd say they're more than worth a try.
*There are actually a couple of others: Mohawk, the only one I have not read, and The Whore's Child, a book of short stories.
Richard Russo's characters are wonderful--wonderful, that is, in their imperfection, vulnerability, and occasional selfishness and then wonderful in their moments of kindness, generosity, and humor. In short, they are so very human. Richard Russo makes it impossible to write any of them off, even the worst of them. You feel like you know these people. You care what happens to them. You delight in the unexpected but meaningful connections and bonds they form. You marvel at how right Russo gets them. He is so observant and so compassionate. He creates people like you and me. People just doing the best they can.
Most of his novels are set in small, depressed, industrial (or formerly industrial) towns in upstate New York. Typically, Russo gives readers glimpses into the lives of characters on various sides of the tracks in these towns. His endings are not out and out happy, but they are satisfying.
I recently finished Russo's most recent novel, Bridge of Sighs. It lacked some of the humor present in his other novels, but I absolutely loved it. Here is a passage that is particularly fine: "The line of gray along the horizon is brighter now, and with the coming light I feel a certainty: that there is, despite our wild imaginings, only one life. . . . The one life we're left with is sufficient to fill and refill our imperfect hearts with joy, and then to shatter them. And it never, ever lets up. Blame love." (463). It's the filling and refilling more than the shattering that gets me.
As so often happens when I try to write or talk about books that I love, I fail to do them justice. So I'll just stop here and recommend Richard Russo if you're in need of reading material. Empire Falls, Nobody's Fool, Straight Man, The Risk Pool . . . I love and have read them all.* NTB. Taste in books is subjective, and some of you may not love Richard Russo's novels as I do, but I'd say they're more than worth a try.
*There are actually a couple of others: Mohawk, the only one I have not read, and The Whore's Child, a book of short stories.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
I will survive.
First off, my apologies for being such a poor poster this week. The hubby was out of town for two nights, and parenting the bub solo, even for a couple of days, can be exhausting. In addition, I'm currently facing a self-imposed but still panic-inducing dissertation deadline. Writing my third chapter has almost killed me, but fortunately my draft is now only a few tweaks away from being on my advisor's plate instead of my own. Once this third chapter is finally "done" (or done enough to be read by someone besides me), I will be past the halfway point (there are five chapters total). NTB. I am writing and publishing the following mantra because I've read enough self-help books, watched enough Oprah episodes, and taken enough writing workshops to know that when one writes something down, it is more likely to happen: I will graduate in 2008. NTB. You're all invited to the party.
For now though, I'll take a break from exploring female friendship and democracy in nineteenth-century America to write from the toddler's perspective. Here's the bub's official and updated guide for toddlers wishing to drive their parents crazy. Read it aloud to the toddlers in your life at your own risk.
1. Think outside the gym. If your mom takes you to gymnastics class, don't be satisfied with a gym full of kids and equipment. Don't even be satisfied with exiting the gym to visit the drinking fountain. See what else your local park district building has to offer. Hover in the doorway of a janitor's closet where bottles of bleach and other dangerous solutions are easily accessible. Head into the bathroom--men's or women's, your mom will be forced to follow you into either--and demand "wash, wash." Better yet, go to the dirty fountain in the lobby. Lean over it and say, "Fish. Fish." For good measure, stick your hands into the murky water that gives off a smell that makes your mom want to check your diaper.
2. Recognize that small appliances can be toys. Does your mom have a small vacuum that she uses for quick jobs? Does she ever mistakenly leave said vacuum out after sweeping up a pile of crushed goldfish crackers? Here's what to do. Take the vacuum and drag it around. Then, develop an up-and-down motion with it. You'll find that as you bring the vacuum down with a little force, all the crumbs and such inside of it will start to litter your floor. Better yet? Do this the day after the cleaning lady has visited. Even moms whose cleaning standards are fairly low (like the bub's) can really get frustrated with that kind of debris.
3. Be a problem-solver. Do you enjoy playing with your mom's makeup and hair products? Does the idea of a pump full of lotion seem like heaven? One thing you can do is pull out the bottom drawer of your mom's dresser. Then, climb on top of her t-shirts and voila, you can access all of her perfume, makeup, hairspray, and that awesome lotion pump! When you get bored with that, head into the bathroom. Find a Dove soap multi-pack. Proceed to open each box of soap. Your mom will enjoy finding unwrapped bars of soap around the house.
4. Don't let the battle of the chair end. Keep pushing the chair around when you need to investigate a "no touch" item in the kitchen. So what if the chair leaves scrapes on the hardwood.
5. Turn up the heat. Actually, turn it off. You heard me. The next time you're in the laundry room with your mom (if your laundry room is a hole in the basement that also houses your furnace), explore what you can while she's transferring clothes from the washer to the dryer. While she's occupied, flip the little light switch on the side of the heater. Your mom won't realize you've turned off the heat (again) until she starts shivering while watching The Biggest Loser.
If you really want to drive your mom or dad crazy, do all of these things in one 24 hour period when he/she is already tired and a bit stressed out. When the bub and I say his prayers at night, I say, "Thank you God for my bubby and all his good qualities. He's curious, lively, persistent, problem-solving. . . " The list goes on, NTB, but you get the point.
For now though, I'll take a break from exploring female friendship and democracy in nineteenth-century America to write from the toddler's perspective. Here's the bub's official and updated guide for toddlers wishing to drive their parents crazy. Read it aloud to the toddlers in your life at your own risk.
1. Think outside the gym. If your mom takes you to gymnastics class, don't be satisfied with a gym full of kids and equipment. Don't even be satisfied with exiting the gym to visit the drinking fountain. See what else your local park district building has to offer. Hover in the doorway of a janitor's closet where bottles of bleach and other dangerous solutions are easily accessible. Head into the bathroom--men's or women's, your mom will be forced to follow you into either--and demand "wash, wash." Better yet, go to the dirty fountain in the lobby. Lean over it and say, "Fish. Fish." For good measure, stick your hands into the murky water that gives off a smell that makes your mom want to check your diaper.
2. Recognize that small appliances can be toys. Does your mom have a small vacuum that she uses for quick jobs? Does she ever mistakenly leave said vacuum out after sweeping up a pile of crushed goldfish crackers? Here's what to do. Take the vacuum and drag it around. Then, develop an up-and-down motion with it. You'll find that as you bring the vacuum down with a little force, all the crumbs and such inside of it will start to litter your floor. Better yet? Do this the day after the cleaning lady has visited. Even moms whose cleaning standards are fairly low (like the bub's) can really get frustrated with that kind of debris.
3. Be a problem-solver. Do you enjoy playing with your mom's makeup and hair products? Does the idea of a pump full of lotion seem like heaven? One thing you can do is pull out the bottom drawer of your mom's dresser. Then, climb on top of her t-shirts and voila, you can access all of her perfume, makeup, hairspray, and that awesome lotion pump! When you get bored with that, head into the bathroom. Find a Dove soap multi-pack. Proceed to open each box of soap. Your mom will enjoy finding unwrapped bars of soap around the house.
4. Don't let the battle of the chair end. Keep pushing the chair around when you need to investigate a "no touch" item in the kitchen. So what if the chair leaves scrapes on the hardwood.
5. Turn up the heat. Actually, turn it off. You heard me. The next time you're in the laundry room with your mom (if your laundry room is a hole in the basement that also houses your furnace), explore what you can while she's transferring clothes from the washer to the dryer. While she's occupied, flip the little light switch on the side of the heater. Your mom won't realize you've turned off the heat (again) until she starts shivering while watching The Biggest Loser.
If you really want to drive your mom or dad crazy, do all of these things in one 24 hour period when he/she is already tired and a bit stressed out. When the bub and I say his prayers at night, I say, "Thank you God for my bubby and all his good qualities. He's curious, lively, persistent, problem-solving. . . " The list goes on, NTB, but you get the point.
Monday, November 12, 2007
I want to sing . . .
We recently purchased a raffle ticket to help support the renovation of a playground near our house. The fundraising goal is $250,000 which strikes me as very high (it is not a large playground), but I guess I have no idea how to price industrial playground equipment and whatnot. I hope they raise the money because this little park is nice and close. I also hope that in renovating it, they maintain its current status as "the park that requires the least vigilance because there is next to nothing a toddler could do there to injure himself." Many of the other parks, though much grander and more full of play structures, have various drop-offs and climbing things that make a trip to the park like spotting a high school cheerleader near the top of an illegal pyramid (no, I wasn't a cheerleader).
Back to my point though. The prize I won in the raffle was a gift card for, get this, 5 song downloads on itunes! You heard me: 5 songs, an absolute embarrassment of riches. I also won a Chicago Park District pencil. NTB.
So here's your task. Suggest a song or two for me to download. It doesn't need to be recent or trendy (though it certainly can be), it just has to be the kind of song that will make me want to sing. Thanks in advance.
Back to my point though. The prize I won in the raffle was a gift card for, get this, 5 song downloads on itunes! You heard me: 5 songs, an absolute embarrassment of riches. I also won a Chicago Park District pencil. NTB.
So here's your task. Suggest a song or two for me to download. It doesn't need to be recent or trendy (though it certainly can be), it just has to be the kind of song that will make me want to sing. Thanks in advance.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Retail Beat: Yo! Go see Trader Joe!
I didn't intend to be back on the retail beat so soon, but the bub and I went to Trader Joe's on Friday, and I feel compelled to share. Longtime readers may recall that several months ago, I bragged about Trader Joe's tomato-less corn salsa. I bought a new supply on Friday and enjoyed it on a salad for lunch yesterday. I also love Trader Joe's Organic Morello Cherry fruit spread. Butter, the spread, and a hunk of French bread . . . absolutely delightful. NTB.
This past Friday, I found several new TJ items worthy of delight. If you live near a Trader Joe's, you may want to check out the following:
Pumpkin Spice Cake
This bundt-like cake (maybe 6 inches in diameter) retails for $4.99. They were passing out samples in the store (quite generous ones, actually). I managed to enjoy one bite before the bub made a play for it and then polished the cake off. Spendthrift and impulse shopper that I am, I threw one in the cart. Once at home, I spent the rest of the afternoon cutting off "slivers" of the cake and comforting myself with the notion that pumpkin is healthy and that it was more like I was eating bread than an actual dessert. Late in the day, I thought to flip over the container and check the nutritionals, only to find I had likely consumed 6 of the cake's 8 servings, each of which contained 190 calories. NTB. Those of you who feel confident in your ability to limit yourself to one serving (or even two or three) should definitely take this cake home.
Butternut Squash
Obviously, butternut squash is not unique to Trader Joe's. You may recall my recent use of butternut squash in a chili recipe. Peeling the squash was not too bad--thanks to my trusty Cutco peeler--but cutting it was an ordeal. That stuff is hard, and I feared losing a finger as I forced my knife through it. But at Trader Joe's . . . you can buy butternut squash already peeled and cubed!! I can't remember how much it cost, but I'd say 'tis worth it if your knife skills aren't especially strong. I used my squash cubes tonight in a recipe I learned at a cooking class. It was roasted and then served in a pasta dish that also involved garlic, spinach, zucchini, panko bread crumbs, and goat cheese. Even the hubby liked the end product. NTB.
Trader Joe's Spicy Cider
I love me some cider, yes I do. A few times last week, I found myself thinking about cider and, on at least two occasions, I almost purchased apple juice at the Jewel with the thought that I would somehow mull it with cinnamon sticks or whatnot. I am glad I did not bother because there's no way I could top the nirvana that is Trader Joe's Spicy Cider. Its description is right on: "fresh whole ripe Apple juice with a hint of concentrated Lemon juice, spices and citrus." I've been enjoying it hot and cold. Best news of all is that you can get 64 ounces for something like $2.49 (or maybe $2.79). I may simulate a grade-school Halloween party for me and the bub this week, where we'll drink this cider and eat cake donuts. Who knows?
Trader Joe's Handmade 100% Dried Fruit Bar
Like his mom and dad, the bub enjoys his snacks. His favorites are pretty typical for a toddler--goldfish crackers, graham crackers, some fresh fruit, granola bites, and the occasional package of fruit snacks (mostly employed when bribing is necessary, as when, for example, the bub does not want to get into his car seat or his stroller or to leave the park or to sit in the pew at church). As we went through TJ's on Friday, I noticed these fruit bars and, in lieu of the fruit snacks I had on reserve in my purse, opened and offered him one. (I tried to pay for it at the register and the checker told me not to sweat it, nice huh?). The bub loved that thing, and I felt pleased and even a tad self-righteous about the fact that it was 100% fruit. And handmade no less? Damn am I a great mom. NTB. Anyway, the bub enjoyed it so thoroughly that I threw several more in the cart--apricot, raspberry, boysenberry . . . premium fruits no less! Each package costs 45 cents and contains 2-3 strips of fruit. He enjoyed two strips at church today and I ate the third strip (only slightly covered with lint and such from my purse) at my hair appointment. Good stuff.
Finally, I want to mention that Trader Joe's gives out balloons to kiddies at the register. Yet another reason to shop there . . . and no, I am not being paid to write such a glowing review of my recent trip to Trader Joe's. I'm just trying to share news of these worthy finds. Is there a Trader Joe's near you? Any favorites?
This past Friday, I found several new TJ items worthy of delight. If you live near a Trader Joe's, you may want to check out the following:
Pumpkin Spice Cake
This bundt-like cake (maybe 6 inches in diameter) retails for $4.99. They were passing out samples in the store (quite generous ones, actually). I managed to enjoy one bite before the bub made a play for it and then polished the cake off. Spendthrift and impulse shopper that I am, I threw one in the cart. Once at home, I spent the rest of the afternoon cutting off "slivers" of the cake and comforting myself with the notion that pumpkin is healthy and that it was more like I was eating bread than an actual dessert. Late in the day, I thought to flip over the container and check the nutritionals, only to find I had likely consumed 6 of the cake's 8 servings, each of which contained 190 calories. NTB. Those of you who feel confident in your ability to limit yourself to one serving (or even two or three) should definitely take this cake home.
Butternut Squash
Obviously, butternut squash is not unique to Trader Joe's. You may recall my recent use of butternut squash in a chili recipe. Peeling the squash was not too bad--thanks to my trusty Cutco peeler--but cutting it was an ordeal. That stuff is hard, and I feared losing a finger as I forced my knife through it. But at Trader Joe's . . . you can buy butternut squash already peeled and cubed!! I can't remember how much it cost, but I'd say 'tis worth it if your knife skills aren't especially strong. I used my squash cubes tonight in a recipe I learned at a cooking class. It was roasted and then served in a pasta dish that also involved garlic, spinach, zucchini, panko bread crumbs, and goat cheese. Even the hubby liked the end product. NTB.
Trader Joe's Spicy Cider
I love me some cider, yes I do. A few times last week, I found myself thinking about cider and, on at least two occasions, I almost purchased apple juice at the Jewel with the thought that I would somehow mull it with cinnamon sticks or whatnot. I am glad I did not bother because there's no way I could top the nirvana that is Trader Joe's Spicy Cider. Its description is right on: "fresh whole ripe Apple juice with a hint of concentrated Lemon juice, spices and citrus." I've been enjoying it hot and cold. Best news of all is that you can get 64 ounces for something like $2.49 (or maybe $2.79). I may simulate a grade-school Halloween party for me and the bub this week, where we'll drink this cider and eat cake donuts. Who knows?
Trader Joe's Handmade 100% Dried Fruit Bar
Like his mom and dad, the bub enjoys his snacks. His favorites are pretty typical for a toddler--goldfish crackers, graham crackers, some fresh fruit, granola bites, and the occasional package of fruit snacks (mostly employed when bribing is necessary, as when, for example, the bub does not want to get into his car seat or his stroller or to leave the park or to sit in the pew at church). As we went through TJ's on Friday, I noticed these fruit bars and, in lieu of the fruit snacks I had on reserve in my purse, opened and offered him one. (I tried to pay for it at the register and the checker told me not to sweat it, nice huh?). The bub loved that thing, and I felt pleased and even a tad self-righteous about the fact that it was 100% fruit. And handmade no less? Damn am I a great mom. NTB. Anyway, the bub enjoyed it so thoroughly that I threw several more in the cart--apricot, raspberry, boysenberry . . . premium fruits no less! Each package costs 45 cents and contains 2-3 strips of fruit. He enjoyed two strips at church today and I ate the third strip (only slightly covered with lint and such from my purse) at my hair appointment. Good stuff.
Finally, I want to mention that Trader Joe's gives out balloons to kiddies at the register. Yet another reason to shop there . . . and no, I am not being paid to write such a glowing review of my recent trip to Trader Joe's. I'm just trying to share news of these worthy finds. Is there a Trader Joe's near you? Any favorites?
Thursday, November 8, 2007
"Mail"aise?
I'm not ashamed to admit that I take a perhaps inordinate joy in getting the mail each day and always have. If the bub and I are headed home around lunchtime, I often pause and think, "Oh, bet the mail will be there when we arrive." Then, a nice little sense of anticipation builds. If I'm upstairs working on my dissertation and I look at the clock and see that it's after 10:30 a.m.--yes, my mail arrives early most days!--I head downstairs for the mail (and a snack).
Growing up, my siblings and I competed to get the mail and, more importantly, to sort it. Even now, as an adult when I'm back at my parents' house, I sometimes have the urge to yell "I get to sort it!" when my mom comes upstairs with a stack of mail.
Because I work at home, it is very seldom that I don't have first dibs at the mail. My husband knows the rules now. He is allowed to get the mail, but he is not allowed to give me any clues about what's in the stack. Early on in our marriage, he would thoughtlessly flip through the mail and pronounce, "Nothing good today. Just junk." Even if there's "just junk" in the pile, I want to discover that for myself. I feel robbed when I don't get to go through each item with the hopeful expectation that a piece of good mail is in there: an invitation, thank you note, card, baby announcement, new magazine, or media mail package ordered from the Amazon Marketplace. Most days I am disappointed with the mail, but these letdowns don't keep me from eagerly going to the mail box day after day.
Yesterday was a crap mail day. Every item was a piece of junk: a bill for Chicago magazine, an American Express rewards pamphlet (the 500th of the year), some ads printed on paper as thick as Scott toilet tissue, something from AT&T, and so on and so forth. As I pawed through this stinking pile, I felt a sense of déjà vu. Such mail days have happened before . . . maybe even once last week and the week before that and the week before that. Is it possible that the United States Postal Service has one day a week where no "real" much less "good" mail gets delivered? Instead of researching this on Wikipedia or the USPS website, I'm going to conduct my own experiment and informal survey. Readers, start paying attention and tracking your mail as I plan to do. Is crap mail infiltrating your mailbox one day a week? Crap mail may just be a problem in my zip code, but what if it's a regional or even a national phenomenon? I'm going to get to the bottom of this pile of crap. NTB.
Growing up, my siblings and I competed to get the mail and, more importantly, to sort it. Even now, as an adult when I'm back at my parents' house, I sometimes have the urge to yell "I get to sort it!" when my mom comes upstairs with a stack of mail.
Because I work at home, it is very seldom that I don't have first dibs at the mail. My husband knows the rules now. He is allowed to get the mail, but he is not allowed to give me any clues about what's in the stack. Early on in our marriage, he would thoughtlessly flip through the mail and pronounce, "Nothing good today. Just junk." Even if there's "just junk" in the pile, I want to discover that for myself. I feel robbed when I don't get to go through each item with the hopeful expectation that a piece of good mail is in there: an invitation, thank you note, card, baby announcement, new magazine, or media mail package ordered from the Amazon Marketplace. Most days I am disappointed with the mail, but these letdowns don't keep me from eagerly going to the mail box day after day.
Yesterday was a crap mail day. Every item was a piece of junk: a bill for Chicago magazine, an American Express rewards pamphlet (the 500th of the year), some ads printed on paper as thick as Scott toilet tissue, something from AT&T, and so on and so forth. As I pawed through this stinking pile, I felt a sense of déjà vu. Such mail days have happened before . . . maybe even once last week and the week before that and the week before that. Is it possible that the United States Postal Service has one day a week where no "real" much less "good" mail gets delivered? Instead of researching this on Wikipedia or the USPS website, I'm going to conduct my own experiment and informal survey. Readers, start paying attention and tracking your mail as I plan to do. Is crap mail infiltrating your mailbox one day a week? Crap mail may just be a problem in my zip code, but what if it's a regional or even a national phenomenon? I'm going to get to the bottom of this pile of crap. NTB.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
