You Can't Buy Just One

A quick trip.  A short list.  That's all it was supposed to be.  But it wasn't.  And there was a melt down.  And it was ugly.

I was just finishing up in the produce section of our local market, cart loaded with scallions, peppers and the first Honeycrisps of the season when I was stopped by a friend I hadn't seen in awhile.  Pleasant small talk ensued.  Children were remarkably patient.  Plans were made to get together soon...and then it happened. 

I looked over my friend's left shoulder and saw them.  The bulk bin full of little candy corn pumpkins.  A Fall favorite that has been a lifelong struggle for me.  WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY DOING IN THE STORE IN SEPTEMBER?!?!?!?  I cannot eat just one.  When they are in the house, I cannot stay away from them.  I used to buy them, and then hide them...but it turns out, I'm not stupid and I always remember where I hid them.  And I would just keep eating them until I was sick.  Not sick of them...literally sick, because I had eaten an irresponsible amount of them.  So now I don't buy them until right before Halloween, knowing full well, that I will eat them all.  But then it will be over.  Damage done.  Damage contained to one reckless incident.

So I just walked away.  I walked away.  Knees quivering.  Mouth watering.  Strength dissolving.  Walked away.  Focused hard on my list and moved on to bread and milk and other necessary items.  Mostly recovered, and safely surrounded by salad dressings and other innocuous condiments I began to falter again.

What if I bought just one?  Paid for it so I could truly appreciate the cost, both monetary and caloric, and limited myself like this until the October gorge could begin?  Bulk bin, right?  Sold by weight.  This will work.  I nearly tipped the cart over in my rush to do a u-turn in aisle 7 and made my way back to the other end of the store.  Fighting the urge to stick my whole head inside the bin as I lifted the protective lid, I nudged the scooper in and selected just one confection.  One itty bitty fruit of the vine.  One.  I carefully dropped it into the overly large plastic bulk bag, handed my 3 year old a free apple and turned to place it in my cart...

"Um.  Excuse me ma'am," came the embarrassed whisper of the pimply faced produce adolescent.  "You can't buy just one.  It won't register on the scale at the checkout.  You have to buy at least a whole scoop full."  A scoop full!?  Do you have any idea how many of these little pumpkins I can fit in my mouth at once!?  I don't want a whole scoop full!  It has taken me 15 minutes to build up the strength to buy just one and now you tell me I can't have just one!  My face must have whitened as I fought the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and shakily turned towards him.  He really did look apologetic, but he had no idea how sorry he was about to be.

"But I only want one," I explained to him, trying to remain calm.

"If you like, you could totally have a "free sample" of one today," was his brilliant solution.  He's feeling soooo clever.  Like he's doing me a favor or something...aarrggghhhhh!  My mind was flooded with images of me hitting this market several times a day to pick up my free sample...get a grip girl.  This is irrational.  You have already decided to pay for this pumpkin.  Money and calories.  Totally worth it...can't buy a scoop full and limit myself to just one a day...have tried that in the past.  Doesn't.  Work.  Oh God...why did he have to offer me a free sample.  

"Can't you just put a price sticker on it for me?  Like maybe 10 cents or something?  I am happy to pay for it.  It's not a problem."  I could hear my voice getting panicky.  Ridiculous, I know.  Don't judge me.

"Um.  No ma'am.  I'm sorry. The bulk stuff isn't labeled for individual sale."

My mind was racing again.  Maybe I could buy the damn scoop full and throw the rest of them away in the trash can right outside of the store...no, probably not capable of that.  This is stupid.  Actually it's quite amazing how fast my mind is working right now.

Back to reality.  "Um, ma'am.  Did you want that free sample?"

"No thank you.  I'll just pass for today," I whispered in defeat and handed him the bag with the solitary orange pumpkin.  And just as I was turning my back to head towards the checkout I saw him toss the whole thing into the trash can next to the bulk bins.  Water welling in my eyes and mouth dropping open I spun around and caught his eye.

"I have to throw it out.  You touched it and now we can't sell it to anyone else," was his pathetic explanation.

Shaking.  Fuming.  Trying not to completely lose it in front of my child and the other unsuspecting shoppers, I gripped my cart for support, swung around so I could roll right past him and said...

"I hope you're happy.  You just crushed my soul.  I wish I could see things from your point of view, but I can't seem to get my head that far up my ass.  Have a nice day."

My...What Big Eyes You Have

They are actually not his eyes at all.  They are just spots on his flesh meant to look like eyes in an attempt to scare away children with sticks predators.  This tiny crawler will one day become a swallowtail butterfly, but for now he just goes about the business of trying to get filled up with enough leaf and when you look at him, you see eyes.  But that's what you're supposed to see.  When you look closely you can see his real eyes...but you have to get really close.  He's busy and he needs you to think he's fierce.  But he's so fragile.

I do this.  I wear an outer shell that looks very much like something it is not.  Just like that swallowtail, my exterior is also meant to scare away children with sticks predators.  My outward appearance says 'I've totally got this all handled' and 'managing my life is such a cinch'.  On the outside you see calm and balanced and tall. (It's funny to me how people always think I'm tall.  I'm only 5'6".  I think tall is what I want you to see, so I wear tall shoes and a tall personality.  But I'm not tall.)   I'm just going about the difficult business of managing two jobs and three children and an extremely busy husband.  I'm just trying to get filled with enough sleep and exercise and spaciousness and peace so I can make it through the day.  I'm busy and sometimes I need you to think that I'm fierce.  But I'm so fragile.

We all do this.  We all wear things on our outsides that are not what they seem.  We are all just going about the business of getting filled up.  But when we let people get close, they can see the real parts.  The parts that are what they seem to be.  And that is amazing.

At the Top of the Stairs

I try to be efficient when I clean and straighten the house.  I do not run willy nilly from room to room or up and down the stairs again and again returning things to their proper place.  This approach, which works very well, often leaves me with a small pile at the top of the stairs.  Usually, I try to grab a handful of items when I'm headed up or down.  But today just as I was about to finish with my piles, I realized I had misjudged my time and needed to shower quickly before the school bus arrived, my kindergartener flew in the door, we scooped up the little one and ran out the door to do a few errands.  So consequently that pile at the top of the stairs was forgotten.

Forgotten when the unattended 3 year old watched Dora while I showered.

Forgotten when we left the house.

Forgotten when we returned, arms loaded with bags of groceries and piles of papers from the school bags.

Forgotten when we settled in for an afternoon of Legos and dress up play.

Forgotten when the big sister returned from school and we zipped around to get ready for dancing school.

Forgotten numerous times today as we all ran right by.

Tonight when I looked again at the top of the stairs and saw the pile I was not frustrated by the fact that my family ignored the pile and chose not to help me return items to their proper place.  Tonight I was not feeling like the unappreciated servant that seems to be the only one who actually sees the piles.

Tonight, I realized how lucky I am to have 3 young children who will ignore a pile like that 20 times in a day as they run past.  I was grateful for my safe walls, my un-punctured furniture and the lack of broken bones, of any kind, in my house on this lovely Fall evening.

 *Pictured, just as they sit, in their pile at the top of the stairs; a 5 pound rubber coated steel mallet, one screw driver and a paper bag full of packing peanuts.

Gridlock...in The Middle

*Photo credit, Dawn Patterson 2011

Depending on what your plans are for the day, there might be quite a bit of traffic.  Lots of things getting in your way.  You have a choice...you always have a choice whether or not you choose to admit it...you can either be patient and wait for the things in your way to move along.  Or get their shoes or turn left or finish writing their check or walk faster!  Or you can choose to do something else.

Is it worth waiting?  Is it something that must be done today? 
If you skip it today will the opportunity be there tomorrow? 
Will this be a miss out or a skip out?
Are there actually things in your way?  Are you getting in your own way?



In the spirit of "Harvest Time" I promised my recipe for pesto.   Because I would have missed out on over 50 servings of pesto if I had chosen to do something else yesterday.  The basil needed to be picked and cleaned and married with cheese.  There are lots of ways to make pesto.  This is how I make pesto.  It is good. 

4 cups basil, lightly packed
1/2 cup olive oil
1/3 cup pine nuts
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese (or 1/4 cup Parmesan and 1/4 Asiago)
1 teaspoon salt

Combine all ingredients in a food processor and pulse until well combined.  Use within 3 days or freeze.  I spoon it into ice cube trays and cover the trays with plastic wrap for the initial freeze.  When solid, I take them out and re-wrap them in groups of 5 "pesto cubes" because that is the amount we need for our family to have with gnocchi (our favorite winter pasta choice.)  Each cube is approximately 2 tablespoons of pesto or 1 serving.

How's That for Interaction!

Facebook is not the solution to the problem of feeling disconnected.  Facebook does not keep a list of who your true friends are.  Facebook does not contain a record of how your friends are truly feeling.  Facebook does not bring people together, it keeps them at home.  Alone.  Interacting with their devices instead of their people. 

That being said...the following is a picture of me interacting with Facebook.  I am displaying this exuberant image of my unwashed, pajama clad self as a way to connect with all of you.  What you cannot miss is how truly overjoyed I am at the status I am reading on my Facebook news feed.  The news that my true friend, my actual real life friend who also happens to be my Facebook friend, is celebrating some amazing news and if I could run up and crush her with my hugs and tears of joy, I would.

She is 2,000 miles away.  I am in my pajamas.  We'll get to that hug some other day.

Facebook is not everything...but it's something.

First and Last

This was the first tomato sandwich I ever ate.  While on vacation this summer in North Carolina I was introduced to this southern gem.  Lightly toasted bread, with a wee scrape of mayo, fat chunks of July ripened tomato and a twist of sea salt.   Enjoyed on the back porch on a gorgeous summer day.  Couldn't be more simple.  Couldn't be more delicious.

This is the tomato sandwich I ate for lunch today.  That same southern gem with my own spin... 

Lightly toasted cheese and chive challah bread, made by me, a generous schmear of locally produced chevre cheese, topped with the last wee tomatoes from this year's garden and a shake of sea salt.  Enjoyed in the warm kitchen, because it's too cold to eat outside today.  Couldn't be more simple.  Couldn't be more delicious.  Couldn't be more somber.  Mournful.  Depressing.  A pathetic harbinger of impending doom.

...Wait?  What....where did this post go awry?

Well, dear readers, this is the last tomato sandwich of the season, for tonight, I plan to commit herbicide.  The frost will come and I will not get out the old sheets.  The cold will snap and I will let it.  The basil has been harvested.  The cukes collected.  And those final little reds sliced and diced for the season's final nosh.

It was delicious and all the more sweet because it was the last.  

Stay tuned...tomorrow I will be processing 5 paper bags full of basil.  Pesto anyone?

Good Advice

When life gives you lemons...make lemonade.   

True.  Not useful this evening.

When life breaks your corkscrew...open a screw cap.   

Yes!  Thank goodness for the wine truck!