the where

Indeed I do think that's the better question, the where are we and how do we meet. I did have to take a day to think about that and return to it as for whatever reason yesterday morning I set about on the wrong foot with it and everything else really. Preschool teeming with full-moon driven children who threw toys and upended baskets for sport. The normally docile ones shoving each other and filling each other's clothes (even a diaper?!) with playground mulch, all admonishments falling on very deaf ears. More ear problems then plagued the afternoon with pulling the children from school early to visit the Expensive Specialist for KLo's persistent complaints. Although I liked the new nurse practitioner there, a ponytailed, vest-wearing, kind of mystical man? He left a lot of space between his thoughts, the effect of which was calming. But also was very amused by us, which in turn amused me back. The remaining KLo ear tube was removed, canals were vacuumed and KLo behaved like some rented child, hired to be angelic. Otherwise, results were inconclusive as to why she's having ear pain, aside from an extremely stuffed nose. So now she's theatrically downing Mucinex (tastes bad!) and taking it upon herself to administer nasal spray in a similarly theatrical manner. Except that she sort of enjoys the spray.

This moon (wolf?) is a very, very weird one.

We returned home post-appointment to find our yard spray painted to indicate utility/cable lines, as well as the neighbor-who-hates-us' yard - what. I imagined her constructing a barbed wire border between us to keep our infernal dogs off her property once and for ALL. And I was half overjoyed, half irritated at the prospect. Like at least tell us you're having work done if it involves our yard? Because that spray paint was pretty much on top of our house in the side yard. So I had to call her and ask and she had no idea. Then J.Lo found the work order in his systems (handy) and uncovered that the spray was for cable installation - at another address. duh. I do hope they figure that out before they start digging. Something else to prespire vaguely over.

Back to the question of our meeting place. What is the answer. In this season of life I admit that I don't miss writing or feel any level of commitment toward it. And I feel distantly like I should feel something about that but then I just shrug and continue plowing through the day. Creating is an important element, yes, and words might be the medium, but they don't have to be necessarily. It's like the way I, seemingly without any forethought, gave up twittering well over a year ago and then a few months ago, instagramming. Which was sporadic at best anyway. There was no why to it, it just suddenly wasn't. And all I've done is shrug over it. 

But I miss you. (duh!) Somehow we must renew our commitment to the conversation, I think. Or the narrative, or whatever we want to call it. Apparently the word writing causes me to flee like a scared, winged thing, but I'm not going to ponder that one too deeply. for now, anyway.

This morning (it's a day later that I'm finishing this, of course - yesterday I was pecking the draft out on my phone while inexplicably eating a Sonic breakfast sandwich in my car - I was that desperate for a moment alone before work? - and today I'm in the living room next to a puppy with Game Show Network on the background, oh the 70s...), an idea popped in my head. I don't know if it's a bad one and probably it's the result of coffee energy but sometimes some of those go somewhere! so they are worth having. Anyway, I was thinking about questions or lists. Kind of like those buzzfeed quizzes are so addictive, except as a side note, all of my recent quiz results have been bizarre: mental age, 24. The place I should live, Cape Town. the fuck? Because I'm the kind of person "who never sits still for a moment." Right. And then the Muppet version of me is the guy who throws fish? You know, the one kind of dressed like a clown. What the hell.

Questions, lists, snippets. How I love them so. And I like this idea of throwing them out to each other like a prompt. Like the "What's Making Me Happy this Week" segment on my favoritest podcast. Well maybe it's dumb, but -

From me, of late:
1. Biggest feat:
Finding a Very Lost Library book. In a place I looked five times already - book shelf in the two-year-old classroom. Literally I was losing sleep over this thing, this book with the happy bunny and his damn happy rainbow, because it's not so much the fine of being overdue (nominal), but the inability to take out new books while it's MIA. Unacceptable! And then the unfinished business of either replacing said book or paying some inflated, standardized replacement fee - bah.

2. I might have a problem with:
Larabars. They've been on sale at Target for at least two weeks now and I can't stop trying new flavors. While I have no interest in Blueberry Muffin, anything with peanut butter or chocolate chips can't be beat. Or cherries, that wasn't bad either. They're the best-lunch-ever when sitting down with a table of tiny people who need assistance at every turn. They're ugly enough that no child wants to steal a bite. They're filling enough that I'm not starving my face off half an hour later. And I really can't delight more in such a short, protein-packed ingredient list that eschews GMO things and supports fair trade.

3. I have the sads about:
my dying Bender. She really can't even run anymore, or shouldn't. We leave her inside while throwing ball for puppy and she cries for the length of this torture. The lumps and bumps grow, the limping and creakiness increase. Watching her lay down or attempt to stand is a cringe. Though we've made her more comfortable with some painmeds. Mental snapshot: Bender on Christmas morning, Giving Up in the midst of the chaos by collapsing in a pile of wrapping paper.

4. Most amazing discovery:
The sketchy-looking business near Food Lion isn't actually a human trafficking operation/illicit massage parlor, but an upstanding adult toy shop. (It's called "Shhh... !ntim@cy on a New Level.") Which actually has a ch@nge dot org petition associated with it, but to keep the place open, not shut it down for human trafficking. Apparently it's way too progressive for this community, to sell toys. Oh, the irony! But really, they ought to choose a better name. My mind ran in circles for months over it.

5. Favorite Downton moment:
Lord Grantham and Carson's faces over the prospect of dining with a singer. YES. What would they talk about, after all..

Your turn?
love,
pen

picky

I’m sharing this company photo series here rather than over at Lo.Co., mainly because the point of this post is more that I am picky. This charming little pool that I bought today at Target for $29.99 will be returned shortly. Yes, one can actually return a pool, with the help of a towel, a deflation device, a strong arm, and some packing tape. And a stubborn streak. I didn’t particularly want to spend much on a pool, I was more figuring on $15 or so, but then I thought I’d go ahead and get this one with the slide, because N.Lo would be more likely to use it. The enticement would be worth a mere fifteen bucks: He’s not a big fan of the water these days, but is a big fan of slides. And indeed, he did try to make it up and down the inflatable slide. K.Lo tried, too, she really did. But, the thing was generally unwieldy with no slip-slide factor to it at all, and after a quick brainstorm, I just moved the whole pool over to our real slide, which worked fantastically. They both had such fun, with about an inch of water in the pool. But then I thought, okay, I’m now stuck with this inflatable slide, which is both useless and landfill, and I essentially paid way more for the pool package as a whole because of said slide. And that irked me. It’s not just the money, but more the principle of spending every penny wisely and also refusing to be ripped off? Maybe it’s not worth the trouble, but I also think that’s what the companies count on… In the meantime, I’ll either purchase another small, simple pool as a replacement and rig it up to the bottom of the slide, or do what I perhaps should have done in the first place, which is to see if the hard plastic pool sitting in the back corner of the yard can be salvaged. It’s sort of a swamp land at the moment, but maybe with a good scrub. This entire predicament could have been avoided had I tried that procedure to begin with, perhaps, but learning is so much fun and I try to do it often. Anyway, considering the fun we did have while it lasted, I don’t see the morning as a total waste. Weee!

 

someday

I was out shopping today and found a bucket of sticks on clearance for $7.50. I think it was 75% off. A damn good price for a bucket of sticks. I have always wanted one, I couldn’t tell you why. I can see it by a door, or in a corner somewhere, especially during the fall or winter months. The pot was an orangey red color, the sticks maybe between 2 and 3 feet tall. It was sort of perfect all around.

I put it in the cart and took it on a tour of the store, on the fence the whole time about the *need* for a bucket of sticks. Justifiable? After a several-year back-burner quest? Why not.

Then I remembered that N.Lo is 1, and on the verge of walking, and that there couldn’t possibly be a worse time to buy the bucket of sticks. Sure, he’d learn quick enough not to go near the thing. But would that be before after the sticks skewered his little eyeballs. It would be a disaster waiting to happen, I had to admit.

Someday I will own the bucket of sticks. Someday the planets will align on this matter. Just not, sadly, today.

ack!

Okay, so per my New Year's resolution, I do plan on having a large yard sale this year. I'm thinking late March, early April, I haven't really decided yet. The accumulation of crap for this yard sale is tucked in every spare corner of the guest bedroom and the laundry room, and also the shed. It's starting to make me tweaky, and I need to organize it better. I really just want it all gone. Last night, I had this random inspiration that I should just take the big bags of clothes I have and donate them. It's kind of a pain to sell clothes at a yard sale, to organize them and price them out and all, find a way to display them, etc. So I decide to take care of this, pronto, and last night I load up the three large, heavy trash bags into the car for this morning's errand run. In an even bigger flash of inspiration, I remember the clothes recycle bins that sit in the far, far corner of the Target parking lot. I don't know much about them--does anyone know where these clothes go? I probably should have looked into this further, but frankly these days, I don't have time to mess around. I figure whether they're actually donated to a good cause of shreded into bits and literally recycled, it's not a bad thing. The most appealing part of using the bins is convenience; not only are they right by Target, but I don't have to talk to anyone. Just drive up, drop off, and go. Leave the kids in the car. No dirty looks and bullshit, like they tend to give you at the ILM GCF.

The bins look harmless enough, just two giant blue metal boxes with pretty large openings. One bin's opening was larger than the other, and in fact it was kind of bent up, like someone had been extremely determined to cram something in there. I take the heaviest bag first and drop it into the bin with the bent-up opening, because I don't think it will fit in the other one. So I drop in the bag, and someone speaks. A man, with a deep voice, says OUCH!

OMG!

There's someone in the bin! Sleeping? Homeless? Unfortunate frat boy? I mean, on a cold day, if there's nowhere else in the world for you to go for a nap, I would imagine a bin full of clothes wouldn't be a bad idea. Except that people do deposit there. And I had just done so, with a really heavy bag. My adrenaline kicked right in, not knowing what the hell might happen next. What if he started throwing shoes at me? Or even just shouting more at me. I'd probably pee my pants. I ran and grabbed the other two bags, managed to shove them in the other bin with the smaller opening, got in the car and booked it to Target. Laughing a little hysterically, of course. What would you have done?

restraint

I am. A bargain shopper. It is in my blood. Probably you know this about me already. I enjoy the commercial hunt and kill. So it is especially difficult for me two days after Christmas to go to a store like, say, TARGET, and resist even looking at all the holiday decor that is currently 50% off. Not so much ornaments, because I so don't need to buy myself those. But wrapping paper, probably that would come in handy. Or maybe a lovely red table runner or whatever. I would use these things. But I don't need these things. The thing is, I have already bought myself these things. I just need to pay for them now.

So, a brief note to self:

Dear pen,

Don't do it. Think of the interest charges. The children. How long it will take that item to rot in the landfill. Whatever you need to think to keep on walking, think it. The time is now.

xoxo and godspeed,
penelope

pen's pseudo-shame

I'm a girl, I'm fickle. Subject to whims. And the other day on the way to the grocery store, one such whim overtook me, a whim laced with dread, curiosity, and a touch of hope. Partly the whim stemmed from my lifelong quest to Always Find the Best Deal, to Slay the Dragon of Commerce. Put a sword through his blackened little heart. And partly, that post from the other day was blinking in my brain and suddenly I decided to go to the Wal-Mart.

I haven't shopped, really shopped, at Wal-Mart in years. I have been occasionally to Wal-Mart, mostly with the company of more seasoned and brave and loyal Wal-Mart shoppers who are convinced it is the best store in the world. I, it is well-known, am a Target girl. I used to go to the Wal-Mart, a long time ago, used to love it. I used to go with friends on a Friday night wearing pajama pants and shop for chocolate and crafts. Yeah, I was one of Those Girls. Then Wal-Mart started seeming very ugly to me. The lights, the sheer volume, the people. I became a total Wal-Mart snob. The nails in the coffins were as such: reports of violent crime in the parking lot. A 600-lb, wheelchair-bound man using food stamps to buy ice cream. Waves of screaming children crashing through the aisles at 10PM on a Friday night. The air. The lights. The rising feeling of panic every time I stepped in the store. The inability to breathe properly. Perusing the aisles, realizing on multiple occasions that what I needed to finish up my shopping list was Back There, on the other side of the store, in an aisle I had already been to twice.

Wal-Mart. I know they have deals there, that in particular it is the best place to buy canned goods, and baking goods. Bread goods. Probably all the goods. But I had decided long ago that the emotional cost of shopping there far outweighed the financial rewards.

As I say, though: whims. Suddenly I am navigating the parking lot, trying to find a spot within half a mile of the store entrance, preferably close to a shopping cart dropoff. I find a spot. Load up the kids in the cart and go. I stick to the Grocery Side, block out the RestOfIt. Pick out some produce, make our way over to the meats. Decide to tackle the aisles all in order, because I don't yet know where anything is. Only get lost a few times. Only Have Words with K.Lo a few times. She says the word "bike" a million times, in a little voice like it is a question, and I respond as such: Yup, it's a bike. Say Hi, bikes. Look at the bikes. No, no bikes. We're not going to look at the bikes. We can ride by the bikes. Hi, bikes. Tires and streamers on the bike. Bye, bike. Another day, bike. No, we are not going back to the bikes. We cannot look at the bikes. Sit down, we are not looking at the bikes anymore, bye, bikes. Here, eat some Oreos at 10 in the morning and stop talking about bikes.

Why, in the fucking Dairy Aisle, are there bikes.

An older man, possibly nice, possibly a freak, suggests that K.Lo is weird, can't say any words other than "bike." They talk about it. She gives him A Look. We move on. They don't sell large containers of Scotch Guard as I expected them to; Wal-Mart is falling short. Salsa, though, is uber-cheap. As is sweetened condensed milk, all the cereal, yogurt, and margarine by the tub. Pasta Roni is priced regularly like it is on sale at The Other Grocery Store. The kids are being only marginally whiny, and we're doing this, making our way through. We are still alive and only a tiny bit panicky here in the Wal-Mart. Some fellow shoppers are even friendly, smiley, say hi to my babies. Some are surly, with a level of hostility you just don't find at Target. At least not on a weekday. If you're lucky. Some things are priced the same as all the other stores, not so impressive. The cart fills. We'll get this and this and this and this, too, so we won't have to go Anywhere Else for the next week or two. Since they have it here. Since they seem to have everything (except bulk containers of Scotch Guard) here at the Wal-Mart.

We check out. The cashier is sort of friendly, sort of not. The cashier/bagger on the next aisle is ranting like a Brickyard Preacher, totally for show, except he's complaining about Whatever, not preaching, and I try to ignore him, try to breathe regularly. Kind of hate Wal-Mart. Kind of am impressed by Wal-Mart. Wish the carts were bigger at Wal-Mart. Wish the carts were bigger everywhere, not just at Wal-Mart. But $89 would not have bought me this much at any other store.

We live. We went to Wal-Mart.

I give it 3 stars, out of 5. I might go again. Yeah, I would probably shop there again. But would I tell you, would I brag about it, would I say I am a Wal-Mart shopper. No. No, I couldn't. It seems like that would be going too far.

incidents

• At Target today, my total was $6.66. Does this not bode well for the chili I plan to make with the ingredients purchased? Sheesh.
• On the way to the car, we passed by a shopping cart that was swarming with black birds. The woman whose cart it was just finished loading up her kid and peered warily from the other side of the car. "Looks like they're attacking your cart," I say. She comes around to the back and stops several feet short of her cart, looks at me. "What should I do?" she says. "I don't know, start screaming?" I say. And she does. It's awesome. She jumps at them a little and shouts, and they all scatter. She ducks for cover, all the while laughing hysterically. "They're probably after all the Cheerios dropped on the bottom of the cart." So fantastic.

PSA: Hershey Kiss Truffles

Hersheys has come out with a lot of filled kisses the past few years, and I've been sufficiently impressed: caramel, coconut, peanut butter. It's all good times. But now the kisses come in truffle form, "wrapped," as they say, in either milk or dark chocolate. They are fabulous.

On sale now at Target for approx $2.25/bag. Go get you some.

they make me happy, 2

Although grainy, here is a pic of K.Lo checking out The Office Valentines box. If you look closely, you may be able to make out Michael Scott holding a big red heart.

Also, why was I at Target again so early in the morning, and so soon after my last trip? Because clearly I have a problem, yes. But also because hello, the new SHINS CD, Wincing the Night Away, is out! And available for purchase this week at Target for $9.98. It's playing right now on my little stereo, and yes it's a good one.

Did anyone know, by the way, that Elyse from ANTM Cycle 1 dates Marty from The Shins? Huh.

they make me happy

I can't find a picture of them, but in the Valentine's aisle at Target yesterday, I saw 3 box sets of Valentine's Day cards, for friends and office mates. They feature Desperate Housewives, Grey's Anatomy, and The Office. How utterly fantastic. The packaging, the presentation, everything. I have no one to give them to, no reason to buy, but just seeing them there on the shelf added a little bit of sunshine to my day.