Not Worth It.

People, I’m sitting here wincing every time my tongue touches the roof of my mouth, because I burned it.  Yes, the skin is gone.  All from an inferno hot corn-on-the-cob.  I know you sympathize, because we’ve all done it.  But as I sit here nursing the shredded remains of my mouth roof, I wonder why?

I mean, it’s not like we don’t know the item is hot.  We, as people, are generally observant.  We notice signs of hotness.  So much so that we must use fun little, yellow, corn-shaped corn holders.  We regard the steam rolling off the juicy kernels, the warm buttery fragrance wafting up, the heat warming our face as we bring it to our lips; all these things suggest that this food is more than lukewarm. 

And yet, we continue putting the fork/spoon/knife/spade/cob all the way into our mouths.  Why?

Maybe we’re really hungry.  I mean REALLY hungry.  Hmmm…..let’s think of an analogy of a perceived need that would make us willing to chance skin being burned off a sensitive part of our body that we use every waking moment….

I got it!  Remember what it feels like to be tired?  No, I mean REALLY tired?  So tired you are aching for your bed and are actually falling asleep with your eyes open?  Okay.  Are you, in that moment, tired enough to burn the skin off your eyelids in order to lay your weary head upon your pillow?  Of course not!!!  So I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me!*

Maybe we are just so excited?  It’s one of our favorite foods!  We haven’t had it in forever! And the good people at Kroger advertised that it was the First of the Season “Olathe sweet sweet corn” to quote.  And it was 10 for $2!  So I get to eat two!  Let’s see.  I am absolutely positive my personal excitement has never led to inattention of the temperature of the food placed before me.  I’m betting your excitement hasn’t either.  So I can clearly not choose the wine in front you.*

Where does that leave us…let us sum up*.

We don’t burn our mouths because:

1)  We don’t know it’s hot

2)  We are really hungry

3)  We are too interested/excited to notice the temperature

So I guess we’re just impatient.  Is that it?  Is it that simple?  We are such gluttonous impatient hogs that we won’t wait for the food to cool to a reasonable temperature?  Not even to avoid a 3-day literal pain-in-the-mouth?  That’s embarrassing.  Seriously.  I can’t even talk about it anymore.  Mostly because I need to go suck on some ice to relieve the swelling.

* movie references.  Don't know which one?  For shame. "Princess Bride".  See it and be forgiven.

Get Thyself to Kroger

If you think about it, you hire the grocery store where you shop. I mean, you get a service from them, and you pay them for it. There are many service providers to choose from, and though price is important, it is by far, NOT the only thing to take into consideration before you choose. Let me take a moment to extol the virtues of my favorite grocery shopping establishment – Kroger. You may not have one near you, and for that I am truly sorry. But maybe you will recognize your favorite grocery store in this post. And if there is a Kroger near you, get yourself to it, and hire those people! Here’s some reasons to consider them for your next grocery store needs:

1) Clean – floors, aisles, bathrooms, faces

2) Pretty – displays, dishes, cheese assortments, produce

3) Friendly – baggers, checkers, managers, patrons…

4) Normal patrons – nobody’s slubbing around in pajama pants and house shoes.

5) Quiet – I can think about if the Kroger brand is a better deal than the name brand WITH a coupon!

6) The DEALS! – weekly specials, manager’s specials, Hank in the produce department marking down the only-slightly wilted celery

7) The Gas Points – I paid $1.67 per gallon of gas instead of $2.17 just for buying my beautiful groceries there!

8) Normal patrons – nobody is yelling obscenities at nearby children

9) The variety – everything from organic flour, to frozen bar-b-que, to the awesome, in-store, freshly squeezed orange juice that the nice lady was letting people sample!

10) The “preferred customer” status for frequent shoppers = personalized coupons that arrive in my mailbox

11) The Parking – huge lot (also clean and pretty) that is never more than halfway full

12) Normal patrons – nobody is braless and standing this far from my ear on my aisle yelling the name of her child on the next aisle. Not kidding.

13) Discount flowers – Yes! They have a little tub of flowers literally beginning to “lose their bloom” that are steeply discounted! I can usually get a week and a half of loveliness out of them!

14) Clean shopping baskets – they all look new, but I know they aren’t, and somehow there isn’t any trash or stickiness in any of them! How do they do that?

15) Did I mention normal patrons? – I mean, when I smile, or say excuse me to reach the can of biscuits, they…get this…SMILE BACK. Some of them have even struck up a friendly conversation.

I am not sorry if I come off as being a shopping snob (as one of my children in particular likes to assert). Here’s why. I’ve been doing the shopping in my household for almost 25 years, and I’ve been to my share of stores in different states, on differing budgets, and in different moods. I’ve done the quick pop-in, the BIG TRIP, the essentials run, and been to the big warehouse stores to buy in bulk. I’ve shopped organic, seconds and dented, knock offs, and premium. I’ve paid full price, used coupons, overbought and missed the deals. I’ve used lists, forgot lists, never made the list, and went off my memory of the list I left on the counter in the kitchen. I’ve made my lists based on my menu for the week, and I’ve made up the menu for the week as I threw stuff in the basket.

But here’s the deal. Like everyone else who’s putting in some effort to do what’s right, I put up with junk every day, because I should. And there may come a day where I have to do that when I buy groceries. But today is not that day. And until I’m forced to, I will not voluntarily put up with junk while I complete the task of grocery shopping. A store ought to assist in making the feeding of those I love begin as pleasantly, in every way within their power, as possible. I’m paying them for it.

Thank you Kroger.

Why are you here?

My oldest child suggested I write a blog again.

Oh yes.  This isn’t my first rodeo.  Back in the mid 2000’s, my sistah friend Stephanie made me get an email address (I resisted, she insisted), and we both started clever blogs.  Back then, it was how you saw what your friends were thinking about and any creative goo that was falling out of their heads.  Think Facebook, only without the nasty, voyeuristic narcissism.  Anywho, we did some pretty fun stuff there, and even wrote a few posts that prompted serious contemplation.  We bookmarked our favorite blogs (no feeds back then sister), which consisted solely of people we personally knew, and as time and life ran on, it outpaced our interest in typing out our personal musings.

Which brings me to this morning.

Katie, the aforementioned oldest child, whipped up this blog in the span of a few hours last night.  She even went back to my old blog (it’s still there!!) and started moving old posts over here!  I don’t remember agreeing to ANYTHING.  Our conversation went something like this:

Katie (use a higher pitched, pushy teenage girl voice) - “Mom, you really should write a blog. I’m sure you’d have fun with it.”

She begins pulling up some blog template site on her computer, (did you know they had those?  I didn’t.) creating the very blog you’re looking at.

Me (use a sophisticated, kind womanly voice) – “Gee honey, I don’t know, I already have a lot to do.  Sounds like another commitment to me.

K – “Oh no! It’ll be just for fun! You can write once a week – it’ll take like 30 minutes tops.  You don’t have 30 minutes to do something you enjoy?”

Me – “Well, I do like writing, but I’m already doing stuff I enjoy.  I wasn’t really shopping around for a new hobby.”

She then begins asking me questions about myself…”What’s your favorite food?  What’s your favorite color?  How many children do you have?”

Trying to be an accommodating mother, I good-naturedly began my answers:

“Well I do love steak and pasta and seafood, but you know a good salad with croutons and cheese is a wonderful meal.  Actually, steak or pasta or seafood ON a salad is even better.  Of course I don’t guess you meant what I like for dessert right?   I could give you some answers that go that direction too…are you getting all this?”

She typed stuff out, picked out colors, forced me to give ideas for a blog name/subtitle, made me decide which sidebars and menus and barrettes and jewelry to put on the thing.  I patiently tried to please her every wish.   And before I knew it, she was trying to announce at supper that I was an authoress.   Of course, I smiled ingratiatingly at her and said, “Please pass the croutons”.

She continued to tell me how she could help me get more viewers or trackers or readers or whatever. I say again, I don’t remember agreeing to ANY of this.   But that’s okay, I thought.   I’ll just let her have fun setting this up and humor her tonight.  I reminded myself that this was a way I could help my daughter stir up her creative juices.  I hoped she had thoroughly enjoyed this little design session.

And then I woke up this morning an hour before my alarm, (our youngest, Polly, consistently screeches cheerfully at 6:30 every am) and guess why I couldn’t roll over and enjoy that last blissful snoozy hour?  I was thinking about my first new blog post.

Pushy girl.