Hummers and Bluebirds and Orioles, Oh My!

 

If you had any doubts about the arrival of spring in Michigan, let me assure you, it's here.  After weekend temps in the mid-80's, the trees have exploded with blossoms and the summer birds have returned to visit.  Bluebirds and tree swallows are busy fighting over nesting boxes in my yard and hummers and orioles have come looking for their sweet treats. Just seeing them makes me feel like winter is really gone for good, even though the calendar indicated that over a month ago. 

Apparently, the swine flu has also arrived for the season.  Wow, how'd that happen so fast?  I'm still astounded, after watching a segment on how the flu travels from person to person, that a sneeze comes out of your body at 100 miles per hour!  I'm impressed that tissues hold up as well as they do when you sneeze into them.  

When you sneeze, fluid goes flying out of your nose and mouth anywhere from three feet up to 150 feet. I saw a funny picture in the paper (technically, it was online in the e-edition of the paper) today of a guy in Mexico carrying a statue of St. Jude (the patron saint of lost causes). The guy AND St. Jude were both wearing face masks.

What I want to know is, how come pigs aren't wearing these masks? I also wonder why they couldn't they come up with a different name. It has such a negative connotation. It's like saying "I've got pig disease." It's like the founder of "The Dress Barn" named the flu. Who names a store The Dress Barn? Do they think women like admitting they bought their outfit at a "barn?" It makes you feel like a farm animal.

The pork industry is scurrying to make sure that consumers are aware that it is still safe to eat pork and you can not get the swine flu from eating bacon. It is not a food-borne illness. These days, however, it's hard to know what to eat.  Peanuts and alfalfa sprouts have had salmonella outbreaks. Pork means pig, pig means swine, swine means flu--that's just guilt by association. Domino's pizza employees are doing disgusting things to the pizza they make and posting it on You Tube for the world to see. 

No wonder Mia Farrow has chosen this moment to go on a hunger strike. Actually, she's so skinny, it looks like she's been on a food strike her whole life. She is not eating to protest and raise awareness of the humanitarian crisis present in Darfur and is doing this as a sign of solidarity with the people of Africa. Personally, I don't see how starving yourself  is helping others, unless you're actually giving them your food to eat, but whatever works for you. Oh, by the way, Mia is only going to go hungry for about three weeks, or until her health is in danger. Apparently solidarity only goes so far. Once I start feeling weak, you people are on your own.

There is also an American journalist who has been jailed in Iran on charges of allegedly spying for the U.S. She too has decided to go on a hunger strike until she is released. What I don't understand is why she thinks Iran cares. She's a prisoner in their jail! I can't imagine they are feeding her fabulous food as it is, so how much of a sacrifice is this? It's like giving up cooked spinach for lent.

And why do they call it a hunger strike? You don't stop being hungry, you stop eating. They should call it an "eating strike." Marketing 101, people.

Well, that's enough for me today. I've got to go grocery shopping at Kroger--no, I'm not buying more butter. I'm off to stock my fridge and pantry for my boys. Too bad hunger strike isn't their method of protest. I'd have less shopping and cooking to do!

Ahoy, Cowboy!

Here's a cute little pirate I could get behind, even if he was sailing the Somalian seas. He's so adorable, I'd probably just give him my cargo and a million dollars for nothing! The cowboy's no slouch either.

I read last week where the family of the young Somalian pirate, who has been brought to the United States for prosecution, asked the Minneapolis-based Somali Justice Advocacy Center to get him a lawyer. When I read that I thought, "the whoota whata?" Is that a real group or did someone just decide to sponsor that as a high school club just last week? How would these people in Somalia even know that group existed? I live just a couple of states over and I never heard of them. Aaahhh...America.  Home of the brave, land of the free...even if you are guilty. Of course there is already so much controversy swirling around this boy.  How old is he really? Does he speak english? Was he brainwashed or was he a ringleader? I can hardly wait for the movie-of-the-week version to come out.

Yesterday I went to the Detroit Institute of Arts with my parents and Aunt Mary to check out the Norman Rockwell exhibition. My dad loves Norman Rockwell, and as a kid I remember looking at a huge coffee-table book he bought on this incredible artist. I have since inherited that book from my dad, and I treasure it. I find it so interesting that for years many did and still do not consider Norman Rockwell to be a true artist, but rather an illustrator and master storyteller. I guess that's why they say art is so subjective. I have been to many museums in my lifetime, The Metropolitan in New York City, The Louvre in Paris, and I have attended a couple of other exhibitions at the DIA. I guess for me, I like art that tells a story or makes me wonder what that person is feeling or thinking. Some of the "art" I saw in the lobby and hallways of the DIA and the gift shop made me laugh. Of course, you know what I was thinking...."I could make this!"

After the exhibition, like idiots, we went over to the MGM Casino for "fun." We managed to score a couple of free lunches at the Palette buffet and then gambled afterwards. Usually, when we go to the casino, we get there earlier in the day, play the slots, lose money and then earn a free lunch. This time we had to pay for a couple of lunches, and then lose money. I said to Aunt Mary "I don't even know why we're going to the casino.  We know they are all on the verge of bankruptcy and if we think they're going to give any kind of payouts on anything, we're deluding ourselves." What I also find strange is that I would return to Target one day after purchasing two packages of sunscreen to get a $2 credit because I forgot to have the cashier deduct the two $1.00 coupons attached to the bottles, and yet, I would then proceed to the casino and throw money at machines, and pay for lunch! I guess I do both of those things, because I can. Somehow, getting back $2 is just as much fun as losing $100.

I love an underdog just as much as the next guy, but I find I'm suffering from "Susan Boyle overkill." I swear, if I hear "I Had a Dream" one more time, I'm going to have a nightmare. I just hope she doesn't overdo it in the media so that by the time she actually competes in the "Britain's Got Talent" show in May she hasn't raised every one's expectations of her and worn out her welcome.  She's been the talk of Hollywood and the news programs. Entertainment Tonight did a whole story on her "makeover" discussing her newly plucked eyebrows and fake leather jacket. Yikes!

Tonight I am attending a premier of a documentary entitled "Tell Everyone My Story: The Journey of Jeff Stemberger." You may recall this is our friend who passed away from esophageal cancer in 2006. Saint Joseph Mercy Health System in Ann Arbor is working to raise awareness regarding esophageal cancer. Ed and I are honored to be one of the few invited to attend the premiere. This is the beginning of Jeff's vision to educate the public about this fast growing and life threatening cancer. Of course, you'll be hearing much more about this from me in the future.

Reporting for Duty

Yesterday, I drove to downtown Detroit to the Frank Murphy Hall of Justice to report for jury duty. For those of you unfamiliar, this is where criminal cases in Wayne County are tried. Fortunately (for me) I was not selected to be on a jury and was released t 12:30 p.m. for the day and year (at least!).

I know, I know, I know.  It's an honor and a privilege to serve on a jury.  It's one of the things that makes our legal system one of the best in the world--the opportunity to be judged by a panel of your peers, not soldiers, leaders, or the government. The judge kept reiterating how it was such an "honor" for us to be called upon.  I kept thinking "If it's such an honor, why isn't someone paying for my $10 a day parking?  And, why do I have to be here at 7:45 a.m. if we're not even getting started until 9:30?"

Being forced out of my comfort zone on a monsoon morning, driving in rush-hour traffic, paying for parking, and playing hurry-up-and-wait all day is not an honor. But what can you do?

When I entered the building, I immediately fell in line for the security check.  I made sure not to bring in my cell phone, which is prohibited, or any sharp objects (like my wit--ha, ha). At first, I felt like I was at the airport, because the drill was the same. Remove your jacket, empty your pockets from change and keys and place them in the plastic bowls, and set your possessions on the conveyor belt for x-ray screening.  I said to the  sheriff, I feel like I'm going on a trip!  He replied "Yeah, and it's going to be a long one."  Hmmmm....not a good sign.

My fellow prospective jurors and I sat in the jury pool room for about 45 minutes before we began receiving any instructions on how our day would proceed.  In that time, I pulled out the Free Press that I picked up at the snack shop located inside the lobby  and munched on some grapes I had brought from home.

As I sat there, it was hard not to observe all that was going on around me, even though I tried my darnedest to focus on that newspaper. Every seat was filled and elbow room was a precious commodity.  I found it interesting that some people came armed with books, and magazines, and newspapers, and some chose to come totally unarmed. The guy next to me, who was dressed like an intelligent professional, brought nothing. I thought to myself "What were you thinking, dude?"  He looked so bored, and kept squirming in his seat.  I could feel his eye balls wandering over to my paper.  At times, he leaned forward, propping his elbows on his legs, with his chin cupped in his hand. Much the way a little boy does when he's waiting for his mom to be done trying on clothes at the department store. 

After we watched an informational video and were given additional instructions, we were given a 15-minute break so all smokers could go outside and have a cigarette before the day really began.  Many jumped at the chance. The woman in charge explained that since all smokers' lighters were confiscated at the security checkpoint, they had lighters at the counter that were confiscated from last week's jurors that people could borrow. She actually had a great sense of humor, recognized that no one really wanted to be there at this particular moment, and helped us get through it with a chuckle.

During the break, I sat there and began to work my crossword puzzle.  It was a challenge not to overhear some of the conversations going on around me.  Two women sitting behind me had become fast friends.  One had stepped out into the lobby to check out the convenient shop next door.  She came back and reported to her new best friend what a wonderful little shop it was. In her opinion, the pizza looked pretty darn good, and "they even sell lotto tickets!" I smiled to myself, thinking, this woman must not get out much.  She's actually having fun! She talked about how she was saving a trip to one of the casinos for the end of the day.

Finally, names of people were called and groups were formed.  I happened to be called in the third or fourth grouping.  We were taken upstairs to the fifth floor, and had to be put in an overflow room until the judge and attorneys were ready for us to be brought in.  After another 45-minute wait, they were ready for us to be brought in.  As soon as we all filed in and sat down, we were told another issue had come up for the attorneys and judge to work out, so we had to turn right back around and go back to the holding room.  Maybe 15 minutes later, we returned to the court room for jury selection.

After the judge gave us the lowdown on his courtroom rules--take your coats off, no eating, drinking, or gum chewing--he explained that our day for his courtroom would go until 12:30 p.m. for the day.  Then, if you were selected to be on the jury, the case would begin the next day and go all day, late into the night--possibly until 7 or 8 p.m. He asked if this would pose a hardship for anyone.  

Immediately, multiple hands shot up in the air. A few people were excused because they were full time students and they had exams this week.  They were already missing one day, and if they were empaneled they would miss the next.  

One gentleman, who said he had been out of work for the last four months, had a job interview with EDS the next day.  The judge thought about it carefully, and then released him.  Another woman said she had an eight-month old baby at home that needed to be breast fed.  She said she tried to get it to take a bottle last week, but it just wasn't working.  What could he do?  He let her go.  

Some people were denied excusal, however.  This included a nurse who said she was on call during the late afternoon and evening hours, and a gentleman who indicated that he could not sit for more than a couple of hours in a row because he had a bad back.  The judge graciously said he could stand up whenever he needed to.  What a guy! By then, I decided that raising my hand to tell him "I had a blog to attend to and a cat at home who was wondering where his morning snacks were" was not going to be received well.  

Fourteen names were randomly pulled out by the court clerk.  Twelve were selected for the actual jury, and two were selected for substitutes, should the need arise during the case. As the names were read, you could see that everyone was thinking "Oh God, please please, pleeeeeeeaaasssse don't call me."

Once your name was called, you had to go sit in the jury section.  Each person had a questionnaire on their chair and they were instructed to read it and answer the questions aloud.  It consisted of questions like what is your name, what is your spouse's name, what do you do, what does your spouse do, level of education, friends or relatives who are in law enforcement or in the legal system, have you ever studied law, have you ever been a victim of a crime, have you or anyone in your family ever been arrested, and do you own a gun?  I thought to myself, "Holy crap!"  Who's on trial here? 

I was amazed at how many people had been victims of home robberies and car thefts, and how many people owned guns.  As the judge questioned them specifically about how this or that might affect their judgement pertaining to this case, I thought to myself "Dude, don't even pretend that it's going to affect your judgement.  You CAN do this!!!!"  In the end, the attorneys only excused two people.  One was a skateboarder who worked at a skate park and had some experiences with the police.  I guess the prosecuting attorney felt like he wouldn't look favorably upon police officers (who were the majority of the witnesses). The second was a woman who indicated that her sister had been prosecuted for murder.  Buh, bye!

Now that they were excused, this meant they had to draw two more names out of the jar.  You could just see everyone who hadn't been chosen yet thinking, "Oh, come on. I'm so close.  Please, don't say my name." It was almost as if Ryan Seacrest would be calling our names to let us know who was now in the bottom two. In the end, the two replacements passed muster and the jury panel was formed and the rest of us were excused.   

On the way home, I thought about how they really need to hire a PR firm to rework the "jury" image.  Something that would make people want to be on a jury and feel honored and privileged.  Pay for our parking, start on time and value our time, and have cuter attorneys in the court room--not one of those lawyers looked like Jimmy Smits from LA Law. Because realistically, the majority of us just want to say "We the jury, just want to go home."

Right Sport, Wrong Jersey

My first born son is going to college. After years of hard work, months of applying, touring, and waiting, we have a decision.  Alex will be playing football for Kalamazoo College.  He is now officially a "Hornet."  Sting!

For him, it came down to two schools.  The University of Michigan and Kalamazoo College.  As a boy, he grew up as a  die hard Wolverine fan.  Loved the school, because he loved their teams.  We reminded him that picking a college because you like their football team is not the way to go, although I often make major decisions based on how pretty something looks. 

U of M had been on his radar since he was in grade school. Kalamazoo College came at him from out of nowhere once the high school football season ended in November. Having started the campus touring and application process last summer, I thought we were done with that by December.  But, apparently, this was meant to be.  

U of M had deferred him in December and he waited so patiently until today, when he learned they were unable to offer him a place at their school.  Although he was leaning towards Kalamazoo weeks ago, we wanted him to wait to make his final decision once U of M made theirs. We wanted him to have the opportunity to make a choice, should that be the case.

I truly believe that not getting into the University of Michigan will be one of the best things that has ever happened to him.  Not in a bitter sense, however.  U of M is a wonderful school.  I often thought about how great it would be to have him only 20 minutes away from home, in case I needed to see him. But in my heart, I worried whether it would be the right school. Whether it would be a good fit and whether or not he would become just another student number. From the beginning, Kalamazoo clearly wanted him, and in the end, that's really what it's all about--being wanted. 

Millions of teens do it every year.  By choosing the college they attend, they are making decisions that  will shape their entire lives. It will affect the people they meet and become lifelong friends with. It will help develop them as adults and further shape their values. Such a big decision for a teenager. Wanting something or being wanted. Which way do I go?

Alex is excited and relieved to finally have a school he can identify with, and so are we. August will be here before we know it and I am going to cherish every moment I can between now and then. Our lives, as we know them, are changing starting today. Congratulations, my little Hornet.  

Love, the Queen Bee.

The Gospel According to Hobby Lobby

Wow, is it April 13th already?  Where have I been?  First off, with my parents back in town, a couple of days were spent going to doctor appointments with my mom.  I'm happy to report that all is good!  Heart, gall bladder and pancreas are all holding their own for now and we get a reprieve for another six months.  I'll take it!

Due to snow and cold temperatures last week, all of the boys' baseball games were cancelled--thank you God.  The timing worked out well and gave me some time to recover from being other places.  On Tuesday of last week, when I was at an appointment with my mom, I literally felt the exact moment a cold arrived in my body.  I'm not kidding.  It's like it had a reservation.  I kept thinking my throat was dry, and then eventually realized I was getting a sore throat.  Later that night, I was boning up on the vitamin C and putting Zycam in my nose, but it was too late.  Apparently I snored way too loud for Ed's liking that night.  Since then it's developed into a cough and now I have a raspy voice (just call me Demi) which means I won't be doing a lot of talking.  The family is delighted with that turn of events.  And for all of my friends on Facebook who went to warm and wonderful places over their break, stop telling me how hot and sunny it is there--Sharyl!

I hope everyone had a good Easter weekend.  The Tigers did, beginning with their home opener on Good Friday (don't you think every Friday is a "good" Friday?  I do.) We had my family over for dinner.  It is the first time my family has been together for Easter in many, many years since my parents (and my immediate family) are usually in Florida at this time.  Afterwards, we sat around my lap top and looked at the myriads of digital photos I've accumulated over the years from family gatherings that I never share with anyone.  As a kid, I can remember our family gathering together to watch slides--not sure if that was at our house or Uncle Rod's.  Inevitably, at least every fifth slide was put in upside down or sideways.  Nowadays, you can watch the slide show on the lap top or plug it in to your TV.  Good times.

Has anyone else noticed lately how religion sure seems to be interfering with these long holiday weekends? First, many catholics were upset that the Tigers played at 1:00 on Good Friday, which would interfere with afternoon church services. Comerica Park did, however, serve fish and chips along with the usual hot dogs and pizza.  

On Saturday evening, Aunt Mary and I took a run up to a new store that recently opened in Canton, called Hobby Lobby. Think of it as a Home Goods, Joann Fabrics, and Michael's all rolled into one and on steroids.  Amazing and overwhelming! Anyway, Saturday night we're thinking "Let's run up there and look around," right? Wrong. We walk in at 7:57 p.m. and probably spend  two minutes alone standing and gawking at  stuff upon entering the doors.  As we start to walk through the store, someone comes on over the PA system and announces "Attention Hobby Lobby shoppers, the store is now closed. Please bring all your purchases up to the front of the store for checkout."  We stared at each other in disbelief.  What!?  It's only 8:00 p.m. on a Saturday night?  They're closing now? What planet is this?  So, instead of walking directly to the front door to leave, we quickly (VERY quickly) breezed through the store on our way to the front door.  As we neared the exit, we encountered an employee walking by.  We jokingly asked her, "Why the heck is this store closing at 8:00 on a Saturday night?"  She smiled and said "Do you really want to know why we're closing?" I thought, "uh, yeah...I do now, especially if there's some special reason."  Aunt Mary kiddingly said "So you can go home and be with your families?"  The employee said "That's exactly why.  Hobby Lobby is a christian-based company and we close at 8:00 p.m. every night and we are closed on Sundays so we can be with our families."  To which I chuckled "Well, we're going to go shop next door at that heathen store, Home Goods."

As we left the store, we were in shock.  I guess we had become so accustomed to everything being open all the time, we weren't used to be told "It's time to get out of here.  We're all done taking your money."  The next day, Easter Sunday, when we gathered together again, we were telling the rest of the family about our experience. We ultimately decided "Good for them."  We reminisced about days long, long ago when many stores were regularly not open on Sundays.  

It's kind of funny how Christmas, which celebrates the birth of Jesus, is the ultimate holiday of all. There's no question that the majority of businesses will be closed on Christmas day.  But Easter, which marks the resurrection of Jesus, (which in my opinion rising from the dead is just as great of a miracle as a child being born due to an immaculate conception) is not viewed to be quite as sacred to some.  Many businesses are open regular hours and many people associate Easter with going on spring break rather than celebrating with their extended families.  For some, there is no celebration--it's just another Sunday.  It's just interesting to observe how there are such varied perspectives on this particular religious holiday.

So, however you spent your Easter, shopping, visiting with relatives, or sunning on the beach, I hope it was blessed and peaceful.  If you happened to be on the beach this year, I hope you got fried! 

They're Back!

We did it!  We survived another Michigan winter.  Even though today still feels and looks like winter, I can get over it because I know it won't last for long.  Lately, April in Michigan has taken on a whole new meaning for me. For one, it means Tiger baseball is back.  Since they have been a bit more successful the last few seasons (okay, maybe not so much last year or in tonight's opener in Toronto), we enjoy watching them so much more than in years past.  It's funny because, at the end of the season, I find myself thinking I will miss hearing Rod and Mario's voice broadcasting the games on TV. Probably because I associate their voices with spring, new beginnings, and hot summer days.  Saying goodbye to them, means saying hello to winter and shortened days.

April in Michigan also means that the Red Wings are growing their beards and getting into playoff mode. Also, with Michigan State in the NCAA Final Four, which is being hosted in Detroit, there has been even more excitement in the air.  We all know that Michigan State winning the tournament won't fix our depressed "state," but their successes have helped lighten the mood, if only temporarily.

Finally, April in Michigan means my parents return home from wintering in Florida. In light of all the health challenges my mom experienced last year, this April is especially meaningful to me. Today was the day.  For them, it means closing up one house, loading up the car, spending two days on the road, and then opening up another house.  Not easy work for a couple of oldies but goodies.

This year, being the wonderful daughter that I am, I spent most of yesterday grocery shopping for them and prepping some meals for their first few days home.  I feel certain that I will be moving to the front of the line in heaven for that good deed. Next my brother, who happened to be off work today, and I met them when they arrived and helped them unload the van.  Holy crap!  I never knew two people could own so many overnight bags.  I suppose they use them because they are easier to carry and pack in the car rather than loading up giant suitcases, but seriously, after awhile, I started to feel like a bell boy. 

After we managed to get everything into the condo, I started helping my mom unpack some of the stuff and sort out what bags belonged where. Some didn't need to be dealt with right away, so they were relegated to the guest bedroom. Since the thermostat had been turned up to 70 degrees upon their return, I began to sweat profusely.

Next, we headed to the kitchen where I helped her go through the boxes of food they brought back with them.  Multiple bottles of buttery oil used for her sock-it-to-me cake.  Two GIGANTIC jars of peanut butter and multiple boxes of Ritz crackers. It was like a modern-day bible story of the fishes and the loaves, only it was the peanut butter and the crackers.  There was more than enough to feed the masses, or as my dad likes to say "we have enough food to feed the Russian army." 

I asked her why two people, one of whom weighs all of 99 pounds, would buy food like they are feeding a family of 12.  In November, when they prepared to head down to Florida, they brought a bottle of catsup and a bottle of ranch dressing to my house so they wouldn't have to throw them away.  Each bottle must have been about 64 oz.  I hated having them in my refrigerator, because they took up way too much condiment space. They were like condiments on steroids.  When I brought all the food to their house yesterday, I packed up that big-ass bottle of ranch and put it in their fridge. When the catsup got remotely low, I tossed that baby right into the garbage to open up some prime real estate space on the top shelf. 

When I came home, I said to Ed "I'm not sure at what point in their lives my parents became so odd and irrational."  (I suppose Alex and Cameron wonder this about us all the time.)  Why do my parents find the need to shop for food at Costco?  Just because you can get five bottles of catsup for the price of three, all contained in one, doesn't mean you should buy it, especially if you know you will be crossing states lines within months.  The only thing you should be buying in massive quantities when it's on sale is butter!

To be fair, I  have observed that it's not just my parents that are infatuated with Costco. When Ed's dad was alive, he had a membership to shop there as well.  I asked Ed, "why does a widower in his 70's need to shop at Costco?  What's he stocking up for? Who's he cooking for over at his place?"  I've never been in a Costco myself, but I can only imagine you fall into a drug-induced-like stupor the moment you walk through the doors.  You are probably so overcome by the massive quantities of "stuff" that are priced inexpensively you feel compelled to buy.  One time Ed accompanied his dad on a trip to Costco to see what it was all about.  Big mistake.  He came home with a five gallon jar of pretzel rods that I couldn't even fit on a shelf in my floor-to-ceiling pantry. He walked in the door and gleefully exclaimed "look what I bought!"

Oh well, the important thing is that my parents have survived another winter and have been blessed with safe travels.  Hauling in an extra 10 pounds of peanut butter was well worth the trip and, believe it or not, I'm thrilled to have them home, no matter how weird they've become.

Happy Birthday Little Eddie!

To my own personal April fool, and I mean that in the most loving way, happy birthday! On April 25th, it will be 23 years since I met you on our blind date.  Who da thunk?  I still remember every detail.  We clicked the minute we met.  Thank goodness I liked the shoes you were wearing, or that would have been it for you!  Thank goodness for Stacy and Adam, who set us up, or there would be no "us."  Isn't it funny how simple events unknowingly become life changing ones?  

I love your sense of humor, even though sometimes it's so corny it makes me look at you and say "that's stupid."

I love your ability to laugh at yourself and how comfortable we have come to be with each other over the years.

I love that you are so level headed and logical. As a matter of fact, you're so even-keeled, the boys and I can't help but laugh when you get mad.  So not threatening. What can we say?  You're too nice.

I love how you make me feel safe.  I know that should the need arise, anything in our house can be fixed, assembled, or figured out by you.  It's amazing to me that we've never called the cable man, a plumber, an electrician, a mechanic or a handyman.  

I love how you cook and clean.  Who couldn't love that?

I love how you have been a great father and role model to our boys.  So involved, supportive and not afraid to show affection.

I love your optimism.  We have endured so many challenging times during our life together--my bout with breast cancer, the passing of your parents, Alex's accident, the recent loss of your job, and throughout it all you have displayed such integrity and determination to overcome each challenge, all while maintaining your positive outlook on life.   As you like to say "it is what it is."

They say that "opposites attract" and I believe it. You are patient, I am a hot-blooded Filipino who lives with a sense of urgency.  You are easy going, I like to ask a lot of questions, never take "I don't know" for an answer and always need to understand "why." Our personal thermostats couldn't be further apart than heaven and hell.  You like to stay up late, I can't wait to crawl in bed!  You are flexible, I am particular.  You are willing to try any kind of food.  I don't like experimenting with my meals.  I need to have the window blinds open to a certain degree, you can sleep with the closet door open at night (don't you know that's how the monsters get out?). You are rational, I am so not rational.  But one area where we are the same for now is our age!  Hah!  You can't give me crap for another eight months.

Happy birthday, honey.  I'll let you know where we're going for your birthday dinner. What can I say, you're flexible, I'm not.

I love you.

Pass the Butter Please

On Monday, I was at Kroger doing some much needed grocery shopping.  With coupons in hand, I headed over to the dairy section to pick up some butter.  I had a coupon for 50 cents off of one pound.  Now, you'd think butter is butter but I like to purchase the Land O'Lakes brand. I've tried the Kroger brand, and what I don't like about it is the whole pound comes wrapped up in one piece, rather than individual sticks, and well, it just wasn't working for me. 

So, I approached the butter shelf and saw a little yellow price display saying that the butter was $1.88!  I looked at it as if I was seeing the ghost of butter past.  Clearly, something was wrong.  I looked next to it and saw the Kroger butter was on sale for a $1.79, almost enough to make me buy it.  But when I saw the Land O'Lakes butter was marked at $1.88, I got excited.  I promptly pulled out my Kroger flier I had brought from home.  I frantically thumbed through pages, not once, but twice to see if this was advertised.  I didn't want to load up my cart, only to get to the check out and find out I was mistaken and then have to say "never mind."  Hmmm....no mention in the flier.  I stuck my nose right up to the little yellow price display and read "Land O'Lakes Butter".....okay, that part was good..."one pound"....okay, still good...."savings of $2.41."  Jackpot! I decided that I was interpreting the price correctly and then proceeded to squeal with delight! Especially when I realized that this was some sort of  "secret sale" Kroger was having on butter.  Then I wondered, what could be wrong with this butter. Why is it so cheap, and how old is it?  Not that it would matter, because butter can last forever.

So, at first I put two or three of them into my cart.  Then I thought about it some more and what a great deal it was and ended up loading 7 boxes of butter into my basket. When I got up to the check out aisle, the cashier said to me "ohhhh, you found the butter?"  I exclaimed with glee "yeah...isn't it great?"  and we began to talk about the price of the liquid gold.  She said one other woman had come through her checkout line earlier with the same discovery.

Now, I know what some of you are thinking...butter, oh my god, that's so unhealthy.  So what.  I don't eat a lot of bread, but when I do, I want butter on it. This is why I eat a lot of  fiber and take fish oil vitamins, so I can eat butter! You know that old commercial that claimed "I can't believe it's not butter?" Well, I can, because margarine is too yellow and tastes like crap.  My grandma would be proud of me.

When I returned home and unloaded my groceries, I called Aunt Mary to let her in on my secret sale I had come upon. That way, she could stop off at Kroger on her way home from work.  Aunt Mary and I LOVE it when we find a good deal on something.  We are constantly trying to the work the system in our favor of getting a little something extra off the price if we come across minutely damaged goods when we shop.  That's why we love Home Goods.  I can't tell you how many times we shopped there, found something we really liked, and said "too bad it's not damaged" (like we are).  We both believe, however, if you find a good deal, then stock up.

One time, Aunt Mary came across whole tenderloins on sale at Kroger.  The Kroger she was shopping at happened to be out of them, or perhaps she wasn't pleased with what was left to choose from. Anyway, she headed up to the customer service counter to ask for a rain check. Anytime tenderloin goes on sale, it's a good deal.  So, she wanted to make sure she would be able to purchase enough, in case I wanted to get a couple too. When the woman asked her the quantity she would be wanting, Aunt Mary told her 14!  Fourteen!  Fourteen frickin' tenderloins!  The lady must have looked at her like she was a secret shopper for Ponderosa restaurants.  Who buys fourteen tenderloins in one year, let alone one trip? Nobody, but the point is, she could have if she needed to.

I know I'm going to buy seven butters over the course of the year.  On Monday, I saved over $17 buying them at the sale price, and it freezes, so what's the problem?  Other than the fact I looked like a cholesterol crazed, artery cloggin' maniac.  As Ed said this morning, "we have a freezer full of heart attack!"  

Aunt Mary called me last night to say "thanks for the butter tip."  She bought ten! I only bought seven.  Needless to say, you know where you can find me this afternoon.