To Me It Was The Grocery Store, To Dude It Was Noah’s Ark


SO I AM SHOPPING IN Kroger at a particularly busy time of day on a winter’s day when the weather is shifting from snow to rain.  Dude, a 40-something man with graying hair and expensive eyeglasses, is in my way.

Everywhere I go in the store, Dude, in his perfectly pressed dark blue jeans and black hoodie, is there in front of me.

  • In the foyer, Dude grabs the shopping cart I’m reaching for.
  • In the produce section he blocks me from grabbing a Vidalia onion… the mushrooms… a head of iceberg lettuce.
  • In the bakery department he stands indecisively by the rustic sesame seed bread that I want to buy.
  • In the meat department I try to reach for some boneless skinless chicken breasts, but he and his cart are in my way …again… as he ponders all things chicken.

I LOSE TRACK OF DUDE while I’m shopping the interior aisles of the store.  I grab a jar of green olives stuffed with garlic and a box of Cheerios unhindered by his in-the-way-ness.

But he reappears in my life as I walk from the cheese department, where I’ve picked up some Swiss cheese, to the yogurt department where I want to buy one container of plain no-fat yogurt.

It is there, trapped behind this man once again …waiting… that I realize there’s writing on the back of his black hoodie.


I BEGIN TO STALK DUDE as he walks up and down the freezer case aisles, but he never stops to grab something from a freezer case when he’s under a bright overhead light so I’m unable to see the gibberish on the back of his hoodie.

Eventually we both end up in the refrigerated beverage section of the store where Dude reaches for a gallon of iced tea.  He’s standing under a light so I can read the pithinicity that’s written on the back of his hoodie.

Unsurprisingly, it says what I believe to be about the dumbest thing ever, while perfectly explaining Dude’s behavior while shopping in the grocery.  The writing on the hoodie said:

“If you’re going to fight, fight like you are the third monkey on the ramp to Noah’s Ark and brother it’s starting to rain.”


Making A Decorating Decision Whilst Sitting On A Bar Stool

Spoiler Alert: There is no calamity in this post. For longtime readers this will be shocking because usually when I get involved in buying furniture something goes wrong.

• • •

IF YOU’VE BEEN AROUND THIS BLOG for a while you may remember that last fall Zen-Den & I spent a Saturday away from home because our electricity was inexplicable off in the house.

[Full story here.]

Well, what I didn’t tell you was that as we sat in the chicken joint’s bar, eating our sandwiches, dawdling over beer, watching a college football game that we had no interest in, we both noticed that the swivel bar stools that we were sitting on were comfortable.

Darned comfortable.

They weren’t like the awkward ancient curvy wrought iron bar stools that we had at our kitchen counter in our home.

So while in the bar Z-D turned over one of the stools hoping to find the manufacturer’s name on the bottom of the seat, but there was no name.

Naturally this didn’t slow us down in the least. When we want to know something we are intrepid. Blame it on our love of mystery novels and TV police procedurals. We find the answer.

Thus it came to be that, using a smart phone, we snapped a few pics of these stools, and googled them once we got home.

We found the manufacturer’s website and discovered that they make about a gazillion and seventy-two bar stools: different styles, different heights, different metals, different wood seats, different fabric seats.

All lovely.  Somewhat pricey.

• • •

Look at who’s peeking over the top of the kitchen counter!

• • •

THE STORY WOULD HAVE ENDED THERE except for the fact that in early January I received a coupon in the snail mail from Wayfair.  The coupon said that as a first-time buyer I could get 10% off anything I ordered plus free shipping.

On a whim, motivated by the coupon, I went online to see what Wayfair had to offer… and just for the fun of it, I looked to see if they had counter height bar stools.

Well, the angels sang…

Come to find out Wayfair offered one basic style of the above-mentioned company’s bar stools available in a size, and in a metal + wooden seat color combo, that worked in our kitchen.  Plus, using my precious coupon, *even better* these bar stools were the right price.

[Some assembly required.]

So lickety-split we ordered these bar stools from Wayfair.  They arrived without incident, and over the weekend Z-D put together our new bronze metal with dark cherry-stained maple seat counter height swivel bar stools.

Life is good when you’re sitting pretty– and comfy!

• • •

Feast your eyes on this svelte beauty! I dare ‘ya.

• • •

[Hello FTC!  Please note that I’m sharing what happened while buying this furniture.  There was no monetary &/or other compensation involved while shopping and purchasing this furniture.  But you already knew that, right?  However, to be clear, I just wanted to add this disclaimer.]  

Share Your World | Butterfly Hide And Seek

Nothing to see here. No butterfly hiding behind purple salvia. Nope, that’s not what’s going on here. Move along, move along.

 Would you want $200,000 right now or $250,000 in a year? It’s safe to assume all money is tax free.

Considering our recent remodeling wild ride, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like the $200,000 now, please.

 Is it more important to love or be loved?

Off the top of my head I’d say that it’s more important to love than to be loved.  Love, an action verb about giving, resonates with me more than the idea of just receiving love, that to me suggests a passive approach to life.

[Good question. This answer subject to change upon further reflection.]

But wait, it is a butterfly doing its butterfly thing, seeking nectar from the flower, and looking good while doing it.

 List things that represent abundance to you.

  1. flowers in crystal vases surrounded by lighted beeswax candles
  2. rag wool scarves and mittens
  3. a fully stocked refrigerator filled with fruits, vegetables, cheese, and wine
  4. a three-car garage
  5. ingredients on hand to make cookies
  6. diamonds, rubies, sapphires– and garnets, even if they’re only semi-precious
  7. comfortable furniture that coordinates nicely, but doesn’t look all matchy-matchy
  8. lazy Sunday afternoons

 What inspired you this past week?  Feel free to use a quote, a photo, a story, or even a combination.

I find everyday observational humor inspiring because it makes me laugh, not cry, at reality.  So when I stumbled upon the following Shopping Cart Alignment Chart by Rob Beschizza at boingboing, and couldn’t stop laughing, I was inspired.

And because I’m a forthright blogger, I will freely tell you who I am according to this chart.  I’m never LAWFUL GOOD, but instead vacillate between CHAOTIC GOOD [which gives me more joy than it should] and CHAOTIC NEUTRAL.

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Catch up with everyone else who is answering Cee’s Share Your World Questions this week by clicking HERE.

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Share Your World | Bright Green & Dark Blue

Bright Green: river birch tree leaves and catkins in the spring.

Once a week Cee asks the questions on her blog, and I answer them here on my blog.

 When writing by hand do you prefer to use a pencil or pen?

A pen. No doubt this is because I was taught to write with a Zaner-Bloser pen.  This pen had what you’d expect a pen to have: that is, a teacher-approved inky writing tip, guaranteed to help make your cursive writing legible.

But on the other end of the pen was a pointy pokey plastic tip that was good for jabbing annoying boys.  As a 4th grade girl might want to do.  Should she be fed up with their silliness.

In retrospect this was the first multitasking tool to which I had access– and it taught me that if you make do with what you have at hand, you can solve your own interpersonal problems.  Isn’t that right, Danny & Tony?

Would you rather be an amazing dancer or an amazing singer?

While I like the idea of being amazing I don’t want to be on stage, therefore being an amazing dancer or an amazing singer ain’t gonna happen, kids.

Now should you want to refer to me as an amazing blogger, then we’re getting somewhere.  😉

Dark Blue: full moon in the early evening perfectly clear spring sky.

If you were on a debate team, what subject would you relish debating?

Ok, again, I’m not one for being on stage so a debate team wouldn’t want me.  Regardless of the subject I’d freeze up while on stage trying to declare or contradict or refute– or whatever it is that one does when one is on a debate team.

All those people looking at me… *shudder*

What are you a “natural” at doing?

I’m pretty good at snarking.  Rolling my eyes.  Seeing the absurdity in the moment– and calling it out.

Also I can throw ingredients together, sans recipe, and usually make something edible.  And I merchandise/decorate spaces by second nature, fussing around with things until they are visually pleasing and inviting.

Optional Bonus Question:  What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up? 

Last week’s gratitude award goes to the fun little video below that summarizes my pre-Easter week shopping experiences.  Just like the red bear in the queue, no matter where I went I made some less than prudent decisions about which line to stand in. Gotta laugh, ‘ya know?

This week’s looking forward to something goes to a local garden nursery, only open a few months a year, that’s known for its unique plants.  I’ve a list of some small garden tomatoes | peppers | cucumbers that I’m hoping to find at the nursery, so that I can have a manageable veggie garden in pots on our deck this summer.

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This post is part of Cee’s Share Your World Weekly Writing Challenge.

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Taunts & Tears: In Which I Wonder About Humanity Whilst Shopping

“Do you want $13.47?”

That’s the first thing she said to me.

I told her “no” and explained that I had money.

I was in Best Buy in an upscale part of town and after a long wait in line I’d finally made it to the cashier, a pleasant efficient girl, a bit on the plain Jane side, probably college age– totally confused about what to do next.

“But what do I do with it?” 

She was holding the change from the transaction that had just taken place in front of me when two Kardashian-esque high school kids had purchased some candy with a twenty-dollar bill– and refused to take their change.

“I tried to give them the $13.47 back, but they wouldn’t take it.  They told me to keep the change.  But it’s theirs, not mine.”

I’d been watching and listening to these kids directly in front of me while standing in line.  I knew them for what they were.  Troublemakers.  Snotty rich kids wasting Daddy’s money.  Pointing at the cashier, snickering about her looks.

“But what do I do with the money? It’s not mine.”

As if on cue, we heard a car engine outside the front window of the store and turned to see the two high school kids in a convertible Mercedes, top down, driving by the window laughing and waving at us.

With that my cashier began to cry.  Somehow being mocked by these two had really gotten to her.

So there I stood, waiting for the tears to stop and for her to look at me.  When she did, still sniffling, I answered her question about what she should do.  I said:

You’re ok.  You did everything right.  This is not your fault, no one is going to blame you.  After your shift when you turn in your till tonight you explain that there’s $13.47 too much in there because some rich idiotic spoiled kids wouldn’t take their change.  You’re ok.  This is not your fault, no one is going to blame you.

And you know what?  My words calmed her down so that she stopped sniffling, rang up my sale– and was back to her cheerful self quietly saying her newfound mantra.

“I’m ok.  This is not my fault.  No one’s going to blame me.”

When One Doth Use The Snot Out Of Something

I love when the absurd intersects with the ridiculous, and everything suddenly makes sense. 

 { Classic TV: Catch the toast. Kiss the grapefruit. }

~ ~ ~ ~

I.  Years ago Zen-Den and I were walking around a discount mall complex.  It was crowded, we were walking slowly, and we chanced to overhear part of a serious conversation between two people who we didn’t know.

What we heard was: “We used the snot out of those oven mitts.”

We started laughing because neither one of us could imagine a scenario where you’d say this sentence with such earnestness.  Of course Z-D and I, being who we are, immediately adopted this sentence as our favorite inside joke that means absolutely nothing, but it’s darned funny to say.

Don’t judge.

~ ~ ~ ~

II.  I’ve been cooking and baking more this winter than usual. We didn’t decorate the house for the holidays, but instead I decided to be festive and make some foods that we especially like: stews, soups, casseroles, breads, biscuits.

Even though the holidays are over now, I’ve just kept on cooking.

All was going well in my happy little cooking world until our last oven mitt ripped in two.  This left me with one square potholder and a dish towel to use when getting food out of the oven, and off the top of the stove.

I adapt. No big deal, right?

~ ~ ~ ~

III.  It didn’t concern me to not have any oven mitts because I was making do with what I had.  It was only when Zen-Den walked into the kitchen and asked me what I was doing that I began to realize that this conversation was going to go somewhere funny.

I got the giggles but was able to explain the situation to him, and for the first time ever I was able to say in all truthfulness: “We used the snot out of those oven mitts, didn’t we?”

Thereby using our favorite absurd overheard sentence in a non-ironic way to describe the present ridiculous situation– and to finally understand why anyone would say that sentence to begin with.

Life is good.

Saturday Morning At The Grocery: Of Red Blazers And Rousing Enthusiasm

You know, my gentle readers, that you can always count me in for some harmless unexpected looniness…

•  Walking into our small town Kroger on Saturday morning around 11:30 a.m. I chanced upon a group of people, clapping loudly, who were, depending on your point of view, blocking my path OR gathering together in the floral department to watch an important event.

[I’ll go with the latter explanation.]

Looking in the direction that everyone was looking, I saw 8, maybe 10, little old white-haired ladies, all dressed in bright red blazers. Some of the ladies were in wheel chairs. Some, seated on folding chairs, had their walkers beside them. A couple were standing on their own.

Despite their matching crimson attire, these little old ladies didn’t look they were emissaries from the Devil sent to steal my soul, so I decided to join in and clap too.

# # #

# # #

 Naturally I wanted to know what was going on, so I continued to watch.  First, an older gentleman, our MC, dressed to the nines in his Sunday best, mumbled something into a microphone… and we all clapped and nodded in agreement with him.

Then with a dramatic flourish of his arms, which left him wobbly, he pulled a shiny white polyester tablecloth off an easel that was tucked in among the roses. Being a latecomer to this event I hadn’t noticed the easel before, but I could tell that underneath that tablecloth was a piece of art.

The crowd, upon seeing the art, oohed and aahed… and we all clapped enthusiastically.

The MC, still tottering, then presented a large award plaque, presumably for first place in whatever this event was about, to one of the little old ladies… and we all clapped and smiled in her direction.

Continuing on, he slowly handed smaller awards to the other little old ladies in the bright red blazers… and we all clapped as each individual received her award.

# # #

# # #

 Now I know it’s often said that kids today get too many participation trophies that devalue the winner’s accomplishment, while falsely inflating the value of everyone else’s contribution.  And that may be true.

But after seeing the joy on these little old ladies’ faces, I’m going to suggest that when it comes to a Senior Citizen Art Event In The Floral Department Of Your Local Grocery, it hurts no one to give participation plaques to everyone involved.

Especially when each recipient, upon receiving a plaque, grins like the cute kid she used to be.