Grocery Store Run

Do you ever have days where you just feel off? No food seems to satisfy your cravings. Your throat is scratchy, and you feel like blinking just takes way too much energy. Clothes seems to fit too tightly around your thighs, and hang way too loose on your shoulders, so it seems like you are fighting your outfit all day long, gaining and losing ground, er, skin. Then you think that if you exercised more then the pants that are snuggling a little too close to your thighs might just calm down a bit. And that's when you see like twenty people running on the bike trail in the sweltering heat with their I-pods jangling and sweat trickling into the sides of their hair while you're going to the grocery store, probably to buy ice cream to make yourself feel better.
So you try to turn the radio on to block them out, but nothing is on. Every song that you once found obnoxious and will find obnoxious from this day forward is blaring like a fire alarm. And when music isn't blaring, car salesmen are. So you smack the radio off with a resounding slap that stings your finger. Smart you.
When you finally make it to the grocery store, you see two women walking out in dress suits and stiletto heels with their carts full of carrots and celery, and another in a pair of skinny jeans and golden flats, with bows on the tips. She's carrying a bag of soy milk and organic granola. You are wearing an old t-shirt with deodorant on the collar that nicked you this morning, tennis shoes, and those old jeans that are way too friendly with your thighs. Sigh.
You grab your cart and you manage to encounter at least five acquaintances, resulting in diving behind displays and down the pet food aisle so you don't have to talk to them. All of a sudden Kibbles 'n Bits have become extremely appetizing. Now you make it over to the dairy section, and after the latest encounters of health nuts and skinny jean girls, you can't bring yourself buy a gallon of ice cream.
Instead you buy like three gallons. Plus some cookies. And those little plastic containers that have chocolate covered nuts and cookie dough chucks. Yep. A banner day at the grocery store.
Maybe it's just the humidity.

The Atlantic Ocean (subtitled: Don't die, Stephanie, I'm posting again)

Having never been to the Atlantic Ocean, I thought it would be a deeply moving and spiritual experience. My heritage is comprised of seafaring folk. My ancestors were all sailors, pirates, and fishermen. My mom was born next to this ocean. Shouldn't all this instill some innate understanding, a kinship with the ocean?

I would like to tell you that as I stepped out on the sand and cast my gaze into the endless waves, I had visions of ancestral events and poetry sprang forth from my mouth like a that of Grecian muse. And perhaps that would have happened if I could have seen the ocean when we first got to the beach. As it was, I had to content myself with being significantly impacted by the vast array of multi-colored umbrellas. I could vaguely see the beach through the gaps between them. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) I was not inspired to compose any poems about beach umbrellas. Although the inspiration may yet strike...

I also found that salt water tastes...salty. (duh) But having never actually played in the ocean before, I was surprised. So surprised that I accidentally inhaled a huge gust from the first wave that hit me. I came up spluttering and coughing while the lifeguard on duty politely looked away. Boy did it clear the sinuses.

David was kind enough to teach me how to navigate the waves after that. (At least he didn't pretend like he wasn't with me...I probably would have.) I learned that if a particularly large wave comes up, you don't stand like a post and wait for it to hit you...amazingly enough. You dive underneath it. Yeah. After we had mastered the art of letting the waves wash over you (so that's where the expression comes from) we moved on to body surfing. This was slightly more comical to do, and I am positive to watch. When I first arrived I thought that the lifeguards must get incredibly bored. But after witnessing my escapades in my mind's eye, I'm pretty sure they stay entertained. In attempt to body surf, I managed to do several fine pirouettes under water, only to be washed ashore with my hair resembling something like sea kelp.

By the end of the day, I was enjoying myself very much. I walked out from the waves feeling like I had accomplished something very hard. We climbed back in the car only to discover the ocean had left me with parting gifts of discomfort. A sunburn and sand in places I didn't realize sand could go. Wouldn't my ancestors be proud?

Things I don't understand

There are many things I do not understand in this world. And this is one of them.



There are many things I don't understand about this.
1) I don't understand cars in general. I don't know how they work, how to fix them, or even how to change a flat tire (gulp).
2) I don't understand why it seems that men are drawn to expensive (yet uncomfortably small) cars. Maybe someone could explain that to me someday in a language I would understand.
3) And finally, I do not understand why you would put fake flames on your car. I mean. Does anyone else think that looks as cheesy as all get out. Do these people really think that their car is more intimidating because it has (gasp) fake flames painted on the front! Really, I think it just makes it look comical.
I saw one today while I was at the library. It was the funniest thing. Because not only was it one of those bigger, 1950's looking cars, but the flames were four different colors. So now instead of normal flames, we have rainbow flames. Random. So jot that down on the list of things that I don't understand and probably never will.

I am not a literary snob....darn it.

I love children's literature. I try to be pretentious and snobby about what I read (I'm being honest) but the truth is I love to read children's books. Thus the sidebar list of books I've read recently.
Don't get me wrong. I do read other things besides young adult literature. I read the classics. Dickens, Austen, Faulkner, Cather, etc. And I do love them. I also read more contemporary literature too. I've read my share of what is considered, "The classic for tomorrow." I like to stay informed. I like good writing.

But...

there is nothing quite so satisfying as reading a story that has its share of literary quality but actually resolves at the end. And in a manner that I am content with. So there. Take that. I'm not the literary snob I pretend to be.

For example: I love Anne of Green Gables. Consequently, I love anything written by L.M. Montgomery. Does she use too many adjectives? Yes. Are descriptions way too flowery? Of course. Do her character's lives work out a little too perfectly? Always. But I love her. I love anything by her. I gobble it up like a child and Halloween candy-wrappings and all.

What's more, I love to read children's books aloud. Yes. Aloud. And guess who gets to be my attentive and faithful audience. David. (To my credit, I've only subjected David to 2 Montgomery books...well maybe 3.) We read these books aloud together any spare minute we can eek out: driving to the grocery store, during breakfast/dinner, on the way to church (gasp). I think that after all I've put him through, he might just enjoy them.

So right now I am eagerly awaiting the next book in the Mysterious Benedict Society. Rumored to be in October.

In other news, I always favored blue ink over any other ink color. I have now decided that I like black ink. My pen options just exploded violently.

Happy Birthday Apollo 11