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I admit it. I hate shopping. Consequently, I tend to put off shopping trips until I really can’t put them off anymore. This is particuarly true when it comes to trips to Costco. Costo is great, it has the lowest prices on the largest quantities of things that we need: diapers, paper towels, boneless, skinless chicken breasts. It just makes sense to shop there. Of course, shopping there alone, with children in tow, is a little dicey.
First off, pretty much every item we need comes in a massive box; a massive box that does not lend itself to transportation via shopping cart. Then there is the fact that no matter how carefully I arrange the cart in an effort to demonstrate to the little checker people that everything I want to buy will fit in one cart, really, they just can’t seem to make it all go back in the way it was. I don’t know if they’re inattentive, stupid, or just plain don’t care, but this is the sort of stuff that has me seething while I’m punching in my ATM code.
So yesterday I decided that I would try to save myself some frustration and push Magnus in one cart, while I towed another behind me. Not just another shopping cart, but one of those flat-bed monster orange ones, piled high with diapers, wipes, dog food, paper towels, etc. As usual, I underestimated the difficulty I would have in dragging this stuff around. My brain has yet to accept that my body is not as equipped to deal with, uh, physical activity, as it once was. I know, two carts, big deal. It doesn’t sound strenuous, but it was. It was!
Here I am, in Costo, towing my carts, breaking a sweat, minding my own business, and something unexpected happens. I am fored to smile and banter politely with literally everyone I pass. Seriously. Everyone had something to say about what I was doing. “Wow, you have your hands full.” “I remember those days.” “I think they have people here that will go around with you…” And I’m wondering, the entire time, when the fuck did I become so approachable?
It must be the children. Moms are nice. Moms are friendly. Everyone loves their mother. Maybe? I don’t know. I do know that I will not be waiting six weeks for my next trip to Costco.
We live on the east side of town, a good six miles from the shopping center of Redlands. Just recently, it occurred to me that I should try shopping in the other direction, since the less chic town of Yucaipa is just two miles east of us. I suppose I hadn’t thought of it because Yucaipa is obscured by the Crafton Hills behind us, or, maybe I’m just not very smart.
Anyway. There is a new grocery store in Yucaipa called Fresh & Easy and let me tell you, it’s perfect. It has all the organic and specialty items of a Trader Joe’s at comparable prices but, you don’t have to go to a different store to get brand name items like Coffee-mate. And it’s cheap. Chicken legs and thighs, ninety-eight cents a pound. Unheard of. Organic bagged salad mix for a dollar? Woo woo!
Another advantage Fresh & Easy has over Trader Joe’s: you check and bag your own groceries. I know, I know, a company that does not add many jobs to the community is not necessarily a good thing, but I never escape Trader Joe’s without being annoyed at the checkers who are more concerned with bantering with each other than paying attention to what they’re doing with my groceries. Who wants to listen to snippets of inane workplace drama while watching the idiot behind the counter put your eggs in the same bag as your canned goods?
I hate grocery shopping, and the sooner I can be done with the task the happier I am… and if I can sip (good!) free coffee while I shop without being forced to be polite to people I’d really like to kick in the face… even better!
On Saturday we went down to see our friend Shannon Johnson’s new pad. A converted artist’s loft that she has decorated to look like something out of the pages of Domino; every piece has a neat story about where she found it or how she made it look just so. (I really need to exert myself and do something in my own home…)
Anyway. We went down to the Claremont village for lunch and a bit of a walk about with Shannon and her sister Chris, who are pictured above swinging little miss Hunter. A lovely afternoon.
On our way home, we picked up our niece Sydney for a sleep-over.
Of course, Hunter is too young to actually have someone “sleep” in her room because she would keep that person up all night long. And, it turns out, Sydney hasn’t ever spent the night away from her mom without one of her brothers or older cousins. There was only a bit of a melt-down, which was fixed on our end by a phone call to my sister. We failed, however, to take into consideration what such a phone call might do to my sister…
But everything ended well and Hunter enjoyed having her cousin Sydney at her disposal for twelve hours…
And finally, on Sunday, Michael’s sister Sheila and her husband Craig came over for lunch and to bring us one of her puppies. Or maybe I should say bring Hunter one of her puppies.
This is Apollo. He was born in Holland, get this, on Hunter’s and my birthday, and will be seven months old next week. He’s actually taller than Nala (who is seriously not happy about having him in the house…), but she outweighs him by quite a bit, and hasn’t been shy about putting him on his ass. So far he’s so sweet and gentle and I don’t want to jinx us by writing that he hasn’t destroyed anything yet, but he hasn’t.
We might re-name him, and he’s still adjusting… but while he does not seem to care for walking next to the stroller, I think he’s going to do just fine.
Don’t get me wrong… we leave the house. We just don’t always drive anywhere.
I loaded up the Jeep this morning to take Hunter to daycare; Magnus and I had big plans for grocery shopping and getting our tax materials in order. Sadly, the Jeep did not start. Likely a battery issue. So we’re home for the day, again. Not something that any of us mind terribly much.
On a slightly different note, you know how everyone says it’s the little things that matter within the context of a relationship? As I was loading up the Jeep this morning, I noticed that my husband, at some point since I last drove the Jeep (Sunday?), opened the registration renewal envelope that had been sitting on the passenger seat for over a week and put the 2010 sticker on the license plate.
He knew I probably wouldn’t do it until I was pulled over for expired tags. He’s a good egg. I think I’ll keep him. :)
Behold Faint Maple by Valspar.
The color turned out darker than I expected, but, I love it.
So here I am, reading Mark’s little blog, thinking about how poor little Ava might be stressed out with all of the new baby stuff going on in her house, and re-hydrating after a session with the breast pump. Am fairly engrossed in the post because I too like to watch or more specifically, read, things that I like over and over again, and as I reach out to set down the nearly empty thirty-four ounce nalgene bottle on the wooden tray at the end of the couch, I knock it over.
I fill the tray with water, which is already stacked with magazines that I have yet to read, splash water on the dog bed, and Maggie (twice this week!), and manage to have enough wash backward to dampen my ass. Before I get to finish reading the post, I’m forced to leap up and deal with the water everywhere thing. Of course the dogs jump up too because it is time for breakfast, Time For Breakfast, TIME FOR BREAKFAST! They think it is time for breakfast as soon as I come down the stairs each morning, even though it is never time for breakfast when I first come down the stairs in the morning.
So I’m spending the few precious moments I have in the morning before everyone wakes up and wants something from me cleaning up spilled water and trying to save unread magazines all while wondering what the rest of Mark’s post is about. I return to the kitchen for another towel and Nala is hot on my heals, as I turn around I run into the dog and she BARFS ON ME! And not just any barf. The sort of barf that makes YOU want to barf. Let’s just say this: Nala is a poo eater.
I believe this is the point where I yell, “Are you fucking kidding me right now?!”
Fortunately, the only person I woke up was my son. Who now needs to eat. I can’t wait to see what the rest of the day brings!
My husband is an interesting man. Once he gets an idea into his head, he pretty much follows it through to completion. Often obsessively. Apparently he gets this from his father (whom I never met) whose capacity for work could be summed up by the term indefatigable.
When we returned from San Diego, we discussed how the two things Hunter seemed to like best on the trip were the swing set at the park and the bus at the San Diego Zoo. The next thing you know, we’re looking at swing sets online, and, shortly thereafter, we’re stuffing two giant boxes into the jeep.
For the last two days, Michael has spent the daylight hours of his free time assembling a swing set/play set in the backyard. He’s been doing all of this in the California August heat and amid the sort of frustration that would fall under Mark’s heading of “Sonofabitchin’ Chinese”. Michael hoped to be finished last night, but, the washers that came with a particular part of the swing set were too big. He took them to work today so that he could machine them down to size. What do ordinary dads do? They drive to the hardware store or skip the washers altogether I suppose.
Hunter has also been very curious about what Papa has been doing in the back yard, and, why she hasn’t been allowed to go out and investigate. Her repeated requests to go outside have met with refusal, frustrating her to the point where she has started asking, “Why not?” That’s new.
Of course, this morning, she correctly identified what is going on out there. She looked out the sliding glass window and said, “I want to swing.” Hmm.
Hopefully, she will be able to enjoy her swing set by tomorrow afternoon. Michael will likely finish tonight, but, I couldn’t possibly allow Hunter to play on her new swing set until her Papa is here to watch her.
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