krikketgirl: (Nora Really)
I sit down and think about what to write, but nothing comes to mind. The past few weeks there haven't even been any "fun" things to share, really. I get up, I do homework, I go to work, I come home, I make dinner, i do homework, I talk to The Man, I get the kids in bed.

Time right now is stretched as tight as the vacuum seal on a jar of pickle relish, and there are no signs of it letting up. I am registering for my summer classes, and only just now realizing that two of the three are 8-week classes. Can we say, "super-condensed"? Eeek.

On the other hand, the boys are pretty much hilarious all of the time, the kids at school are nutty, I have wonderful friends, and I know that I am incredibly blessed. So the ratio of time spent griping to time spent happy has shifted for the better.

Still, I'm ready for some certainty--this is a constant theme! People ask, "When are you moving?" and I say, "I don't know. Sometime this summer." In some ways, I can't even think about that. It's too huge. So I think about the next steps: tomorrow. This weekend. Next week. This class, and then the next class, and then Mother's Day, and then graduating and cake.
krikketgirl: (Er?)
So I'm back to tracking my calories, because apparently "walking a lot" does not mean "steak suddenly has no calories." Anyway, this morning I was trying to use the search function to find "yogurt, plain, nonfat". The search box popped up a list of results, as well as the suggestion question, "Did you mean to type yogurt, plain, nonfatal?"
krikketgirl: (Can't Hear You)
  • Why did I ever eat cheesecake? At all? During my entire life?

  • Wait, this is two sizes bigger than I usually wear...

  • Why is my swimsuit size four sizes larger than my usual size????

  • Why can't they make swimsuits for girls who are both tall and grandiose in size?

  • Or any other item of clothing, in fact?

  • I need to start exercising.

  • Or stop swimming. Which might be easier.

  • Could I single-handedly bring back the era of bathing machines? Or at least the ladies' swimwear of the era?

  • WHO...? WHO...!? WHO puts a ruffled flounce at mid-hip level on a grown woman's suit???
krikketgirl: (Snit)
I try not to be a cranky person, but grocery shopping seems determined to undermine this goal. For one thing, how hard could it possibly be to label all the divisions in the frozen food aisle instead of only some? It's a pain in the neck to have to cruise the entire length of two frozen food aisles, trying to guess whether frozen fruit is more likely to be near ice cream, desserts, fruit juice, or vegetables--and, of course, it varies from store to store, to keep things lively.

For another, I'm sure I can't be the only shopper who would appreciate it if stores would just leave the bread display alone. My local supermarket seems to have a personal vendetta against my bread-buying habits; barely a week goes by without my preferred brand and type of bread being moved from one place to another. I'm sure that, one of these weeks, they'll run out of places to hide it in the bread area and will move it to the freezer area, where it will be unmarked. Probably nowhere near the frozen fruit.

And as a last feeble protest, let me just make this comment: Kroger, I try to be patient with you when there is no bagger at the end of whichever checkout lane I brave. I know, employees are not always reliable, and there are more of us than there are of them, and so I make do. Today, my heart was overjoyed when I spied not one, but two baggers at my checkout lane. And I have to admit that my groceries were bagged with the speed of summer lightning.

However, I would like to point out that--thanks to an ongoing conversation between the two baggers about the car of one and whether or not it should be using as much gasoline as it is using--my carefully-sorted groceries (frozen foods, then canned/boxed items, then fresh items and bread) were hopelessly chucked about in the bags (bread and cheese, bread and ice cream, ice cream and tomatoes, shaving gel and--be quiet--MORE ice cream, et cetera). In addition, as the cashier handed me my change and receipt, I was left juggling my purse, keys, gloves, and receipt, as well as being hemmed into the lane by my (now-empty) shopping cart.

While the cheery, "Have a nice day, Ma'am!" was a nice gesture, it would have landed better on my ears had someone used a thought or two and moved the empty cart and made any effort at all to swing my new, full-of-groceries cart into a position where I could have wheeled it out the door. Instead, I was left to precariously balance purse, keys, and whatnot atop the cart, trying not to smash the bread, so that I would have two hands available to grab the cart, back it up without hitting the bagger, and navigate it through the doors.

I just feel that shopping would be much rosier if every single trip didn't leave me clutching my list and debating whether I really need food at all this week or if this wouldn't be an ideal time to try the olive-oil-and-flour diet.

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krikketgirl

June 2015

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