Stream of Consciousness

I'm going to let you in on nothing in particular, today.

I feel so uninspired to talk about food, and that's not like me. I haven't seen the inside of the gym since before Halloween, so that after-the-fireworks shock has set in sooner than usual, maybe? I won't bore you with woe about my mid-section, since we both know what I can do about it.

I think blogging is a microcosm for real-life relationships. I've got this whole circle of blogging friends, now. People that I don't know in real life, but we "talk" all the time via comments. I also have blogging acquaintances: we know of each other and if we happen to cross paths, we smile and say "hi," but we're not reading each other daily. I've also got blogging friend-of-a-friend situations like, Mother Hood who came over just to say "hi" on my birthday.

Angie at American Homemaker, who has some fab recipes, made me think of all this microcosm business. I have personally tried her Pumpkin Oreo Muffins and her Ham and Spinach Roll Ups. Loved 'em! The best thing about her recipes is that they are so accessible. "Accessible" is a thing wine snobs say to mean "even you screw-top drinkers will enjoy this one." Well, I mean to say that even you non-cooking types can manager Angie's recipes. Many of her ideas start with a box of cake mix and turn into something wonderful and new. She comes up with all sorts of semi-homemade goodies a la Sandra Lee.

Sandra is, in my opinion, the real man's Martha and much craftier. So is Angie. Check her out, she keeps it real.

Oh, so I was headed to the store to pick up a few things and I was thinking about trying one of Angie's recipes, but I couldn't recall all the ingredients. A thought suddenly popped into my head that I'd just call her cell and ask what to buy. Then I remembered (just as suddenly) that I don't really know this person. She's a blogging friend, not a friend in real life. (Don't worry, blogging friends, I'm not going to go cross country and One-Hour-Photo you. )

I forked over the money to buy Only Child a Lightening McQueen lamp that he spotted at Ross and asked so maturely if we could buy. Normally Id say something like, "let's wait and see if Santa gets it for you," but I felt guilty for dragging him in there for the third time this week. We had to find a pillow for The Micker, long story, but it was a successful hunt. I was feeling cheerfully generous, and let him have, it no strings attached. And as an added bonus he went right into his nap with no fussing. So these $7 finds are the reason we keep going back to that (spit) store.

Does anyone else have a Love/Hate relationship with Ross?

The thrill of the hunt is awesome. The wading through clothes on the floor or picking up one pillow and a dozen fall down...that's the price we pay. And I know that Ross ain't trying to be Nordstrom. But every Ross is trashy. Not so much at Marshalls and TJ Maxx. Is Big Lots more upscale in the world of close outs? Because if I was a manager at Big Lots I would not appreciate being compared to Ross.

Just like Walmart, Ross is the third world of shopping and they've got the pigeons in the parking lot to prove it. Do pigeons like a good deal, too? How do they know?

Yet I can't seem to love them or leave them. I know I'm not the only one.

Ross!

One memorable trip to Ross occurred around the time Only was being potty trained. He told me he had to go, number 2. The bathroom had a closed sign on it. I ask if the bathroom was working, because I've got a barely-three-year-old that has to poop, right now. Hourly employee tells me to do what I need to do and walks away.

I explained my predicament to a nice lady shopping outside the bathroom and she went to get a manager. The bathroom was not closed because of a malfunctioning toilet. It was closed because there was no toilet paper to be had in all the city and the shipment from corporate (where Ross gets all of its toilet paper) had not come in. I caused such a stink ( ha!) because, while a hole in the ground is sufficient facilities in many parts of the world, here in the first world it is not. I was willing to argue, threaten to write letters, and raise my voice, lest some paper product be produced to wipe my kid's butt.

I even suggested we use a shirt off the floor, since it had so many basket skids, it couldn't be sold.

Meanwhile, nice shopper lady asked around until she found someone willing to part with a few baby wipes. Just as we were washing our hands and leaving the bathroom, the security guard came running back with some toilet paper scored at the CVS next door. Seems they had TP all along.

Is there a moral to this story? I probably don't want to hear it, but if you read all my ranting you get to say it.

Heather, your request is coming soon. I'm too sluggish to find the camera just now.

Rachel, you'd better not leave town without calling me!

You're too kind

A big thanks to Girly Stuff for reminding me how silly and spirited I was as a kid and for showering me with the love and attention my star so requires. (Too bad I wasn't born with her common sense.)

We graduated from high school in the early 90's; those were days of big hair, red acrylic fingernails and all things gaudy. The gaudier the better.

Check us out in our over-the-top prom dresses. I think I can see Picky's reflection in those frocks. My sister made that dress for me so that I could have exactly what I wanted, but I am responsible for the design. And for that side up-do straight out of Napoleon Dynamite.

How was my birthday, you ask? Well, MMA and Only Child treated me like a queen all weekend. MMA brought honor to our family name by submitting his opponent at the jiu jitsu tournament on Saturday. I got to do a little guilt-free shopping for myself. And, we managed to sneak away for a dinner date on Sunday, thanks to Aunt 'Niesee. It was a great weekend and birthday.

Thanks for the calls and well wishes! I love you people! I love being thirty five. I still love that dress and I'd wear it for my high school flash back party if I could. Alas, it is history, along with the excuse "baby fat."

Psst, Dan, (my prom date) where ever you are...your old truck from high school has been found and he's done pretty well for himself. It landed the role as "Isabella's truck" in the new Twilight movie.



Oh, GS even arranged for my prom date...and we're still all over each other's business! (Me and Girly, not me and Dan.) Gotta love that.