haikuckoo

I open my home to my good friend Jimmie and what does he do? Not just once (first on my birthday, which was really the ultimate insult) but TWICE - he beats me at the Audience Haiku Challenge at the Live Wire! Radio show.

Me trying to be a gracious loser

We both wrote to the theme "Mothers."
Jimmie's entry:
I love my mother
But she didn't breastfeed me.
That is why I'm gay.

I was tipped off that including something about boobs might get me a winner, so I went with this:
The nice moms smile sweet;
But bad ones show some cleavage.
Join the P.T.A.!

Sigh. Then my secret Live Wire! boyfriend ignored me (though my favorite writing workshop teacher Greg Robillard who does not think I'm a stalker used his back for signing my poster) and my cleavage.

But I had a delectable dinner before the show at Berlin Inn, and my delovely friend Holly & her family saved front row seats, and everything else about the evening was enjoyable.

The young handsome young talented band
The Lonely Forest from near my hometown
made up for my disappointment

I might invite Jimmie back for the December show; I'll have crutches then to beat him with if he wins again.

bring it

1. Enough with the nonsense. All of it. Seriously.

2. Wanting to continually watch Dexter yet needing a modicum of sleep causes me to be conflicted.

3. I've been craving silence & the comfort of my bed.

4. The Daily Show makes me laugh.

5. I wish I could go to Europe next week (is that so wrong?).

6. Educating the youth of America has been on my mind lately (followed closely by plans for my next vacation).

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to seeing Fountains of Wayne (eeeeeeeee!), tomorrow my plans include lunch with in-laws & party with colleagues, and Sunday I want to enjoy the silence, in my comfy bed.

It's Friday Fill-In time. Delight.

little piece of home abroad

My Grocery Store Hottie has been MIA for many weeks now - so many that he cannot possibly be merely ill or on vacation; it is evident he no longer works for Whole Foods [formerly Wild Oats, which was a far more appropriate name considering why I shopped there]. I have heaved grand sighs about this development (not to mention gone back to shopping the normal once a week, thus saving our family thousands of dollars in gas and random grocery purchases), and felt I had gotten over it.

But when in London, we stumbled across a little cafe off Carnaby Street where I could get a much-desired not-Starbucks coffee. When I went to place my order, I was struck by how much the barista reminded me of my long-lost grocery boy. He was jailbaitish on the young side, had rugged yet boyish looks (two healing black eyes - Edward Norton in Fight Club, anyone?), and most importantly, was absolutely indifferent to me. Even Stu was sympathetic and offered to take a picture of me with him in the background, but that felt particularly desperate and silly I said no thanks. And so all I have is this photo, along with my memory of our single bittersweet non-encounter. Because I swear I did not go back to that coffee shop again during our visit. I didn't even consider it. Really.

This cream-filled blueberry muffin proved a workable salve for my bruised ego.

photo by me @ Fair Grounds, London 2008

the role of the bff

My best friend Jen is not a blogger nor does she subscribe to my worship appreciation of Whole [Paycheck] Foods. She unabashedly shops at The Store That Shall Not Be Named, regularly mocks my OCD tendencies, and refuses to watch brilliant movies if they have unhappy endings.

But despite all those faults and even though she calls my Grocery Store Hottie "an infant," Jen was my wing woman this afternoon as I foolishly attempted once again to elicit something resembling chat from him. The sun was shining, my hair looked good, I was wearing my awesome Esprit ($6.99 via Goodwill!) camouflage pants, and was a little giddy from all that Relay for Life walking; I got into his line with high hopes.

I think it helped that a better (and also cute but not hot) conversationalist was bagging my goods, but Jen & I were on a roll that the Hottie could not escape. Frankly, I think a few of our very witty remarks went over his head (sigh) but in the end there was banter and laughing and goodness. I'm pretty sure angels were singing.

Plus I scored an oatmeal carmelita.

fascinating or frightening?

I swear, this is the horoscope that popped up for me this morning (highlights mine, because they are so funny/scary):
________________

There is going to be a deep, true value in every exchange you have today, whether it's a brief conversation with someone at the checkout line or a long meeting with the influential people at work. Something that's said will change your life. You'll get even more value out of these talks if you expose your real self right away. There is no need to hide what you really think or wait for someone else to introduce a topic so that you will have permission to do so.
________________

Discuss.

grocery store smackdown imminent

I realize posting this on my wedding anniversary may seem a tad tacky, but it is what it is. (In other words, tacky).

To begin with, I have not taken my own advice and gone through other not hot checkers' aisles at my grocery store. I'm giving my [not so] secret crush one hundred a few more chances. So, this evening I ran in for some very important food items and as we were having an intimate moment finishing our depressingly chaste checker/customer exchange, this happened behind me:

Woman my age [not old] talking to her preschool daughter in the cart: Okay, honey, put the things on the counter. Why are you being so shy? Did you say "Because he's so handsome?" Heehee.

Oh yes she did.

So I flashed him.


Alright, I did not. I also did not raise my eyebrow menacingly at her (I'm pretty sure). Though I surely emanated wrath in her general direction.

But I did quickly deposit our groceries in the car before running back into the store to grab the Willamette Week, to show what an edgy suburban mom I am. An edgy suburban mom willing to take down her competition. Bring it, girlfriend.

keys to a healthy marriage

IM in the afternoon

stu says:
we can watch lost and survivor tonight

stephanie says:
ah, and there's wine. AND i need to go get bread for the brie....hmmm....

stu says:
stay away from that boy

stephanie says:
i think he's onto me. what if someone tipped him to the blog? that would be awkward

stu says:
yes it would

A to your Q

Responding to queries from commenters:

• Yes, there are in fact FIVE computers just outside the bar area at this hotel. Two years ago when I was here for convention, I changed all the backgrounds to pictures of Gael Garcia Bernal. Hehee.
• I have actually attended classes about PTA and legislative issues, and I have learned stuff.
• I'm not exactly sure how I've earned so much trust from my husband - between tolerating my exaggerated need for grocery shopping and being cool with me acting like a hip-hop dancing fool 150 miles away from home, Stu really is a saint. Praise him more.
• Indeed, all of those new friends are boys. But I won't be stalking them. That's wrong.

and then i shut up about the hot checker

During my weekly daily hourly visit to the store formerly known as Wild Oats this evening, I did indeed spy my [not so] secret super young crush. However, he was on bagging & cart wrangling duty and since I only had a few snack items (for this weekend's wild PTA convention - stay tuned for those details!), we did not require his services. *snicker*

Because I know you all care so very much how our "relationship" is going, I will tell you these things: After the ridiculous Gerber daisy fiasco, I tried again to have an actual conversation (as much as can be had in the 2.2 minute interaction while buying seven nonessential items). And you know? I have no idea why I even try; the beauty really is in the admiring from afar. As my darling husband wisely exclaimed the other night - "Don't talk! Talking leads to affairs!" And then he busted out laughing, presumably over all the crazy in that statement (I would risk my marriage for a grocery clerk? I want to go to jail for attempting an affair with a minor? I have time for an affair??).

Anyway. It went something like this.

Hottie: Did you find everything you wanted?

Me: [Momentary giggle in my mind] Yes. Thank you. Except oatmeal carmelitas. I guess they're all gone. I should really just buy them by the case. But that seems wrong. Ha.

Hottie: [Not looking anywhere in my general direction] Yeah, they're pretty popular.

Me: [Resigned silence]

Hottie: Alright, there you go! Have a great night.

Me: sigh. Okay. Thanks. You, too.

sweetness

Mama Milton & I spent the afternoon in a blissful state of girlfriendliness. After spying on my Grocery Store Hottie nonchalantly stopping to get coffee & an oatmeal carmelita, we drove into Portland and browsed through Powells for awhile (I got a fantastic Virginia Woolf book to read before my trip!) then headed over to the luxurious, sumptuous, grown-ups-only after 3:30 Living Room Theaters to watch Caramel. Before the feature, they showed a trailer for Singin' in the Rain, which I so love I almost wept just watching the snippets (Gene Kelly & I are like this). We had food delivered to us in the theater (Spicy buttery popcorn, thy name is Perfection), the seats were like couches, it did not cost a million dollars, the movie was delightful; all was heavenly.

You are now released from the grip of links & italics.

mock my pain

The Good: Grocery Store Hottie has not moved out of the area or been fired. I carefully arranged my non-essential shopping to land in his line tonight, and I even asked a question cleverly designed to provide prolonged interaction.

The Bad: Apparently he is onto my stalking ruse and is either clueless or uninterested (let's just say the former, to preserve my rapidly-diminishing dignity) because, although he responded to my initial query of "Do you know how much the Gerber daisies are?" with a cute little "Huh! No, I didn't even know we had daisies," he proceeded to not actually find an answer for me. When he had scanned all of my seven non-essential items and told me the total, I asked again in a lighthearted jokey voice (as opposed to an irritated bitchy voice, which was roiling just below the surface; it has been 8 days since my last sighting, people!). He unceremoniously said I should ask someone in the produce section.

The Ugly: There was no one in the produce section, and like a crazy lady who desperately needed those potted daisies I wandered around, waiting for someone to appear. Then I went home and discovered I had not purchased bread to go with the round of Brie [that I didn't need]. Frick. So I went back to the store but pointedly did not get in Hottie's line. Then I asked a homely but very friendly & helpful worker (who was NOT in Produce, by the way) about the daisies; he grabbed a pot and happily scanned it for me. I was seconds away from plunking it down in front of Grocery Boy and telling him SOMEONE ELSE checked the price for me, as though this would make him very jealous and remorseful. But I came to my senses and just bought the bread.

In the end, I'm thankful no one called me "Ma'am."

my inner teen is grounded

I am nearly done with [telling you about] the cute checker crush, partly because I imagine you're getting very jealous bored and also, I am concerned that the more I gush over him, the more likely it is he'll show up to enroll at my school next quarter. God in Heaven, I swear that is not even remotely funny.

So here is the last thing I will torture you with [probably]. I thought this was a pointedly hilarious question in a survey I took this afternoon:

From the list below, what is the ONE quality that your favorite grocery store offers that matters most to you? (Select one)

1. Good prices/reward program
2. Great selection
3. Attractive/well-kept surroundings
4. Convenience
5. Friendly service
6. Emphasis on healthy foods and nutrition
7. Additional services available (i.e., pharmacy, bank, coffee shop, hot young checkers*)

I giggled at each answer, particularly #6 (the one I chose), because honestly. Whole Foods can devolve into a Wal*Mart/McDonald's and if the hottie worked there, I'd be selling my consumer soul. Unless he becomes one of my students and then frick. Pray for me.

*Um. I added that one.

how many days till summer?

Despite the brigade of defiant boys in my [almost finished] Creative Writing class, the raininess that is April in the Northwest, and a charming bullet-hole-like blemish that will not be concealed in the middle of my forehead, I feel pretty good about today.

Somehow I have been well-organized and capable of cleaning & putting things away as I go; new haircut is cooperating; I'm getting lunches ready the night before, being prepared for school, and arriving [relatively] on time to places.

We are nearing the end of the quarter so any assignments I give my Creative Writing class this week are considered, by a small but noisy contingent, extra stupid. I have been proud of the way I've pointedly ignored them (after one attempt at having an actual intelligent conversation with them; I keep forgetting they're 15). Today was particularly trying as they kept disconnecting various parts of the computer I was using to demonstrate how to create a blog. Most of the students are excited about this project (although sad I just thought of it, during the last week of class) so after I would show some steps, I'd wander around the room to help individuals. Each time I returned, something different would be wrong with my computer. Once I figured out it was sabotage, I serenely (as serene as gritted teeth gets) left their general area without a word or a look. Then I ratted them out to the principal when she came into the lab.

Ahh. Good times.


Oh, and I was in the left-turn lane next to my grocery store crush tonight!! I know, exclamation points. I'm a total idiot.

to my favorite crushes

Dear Grocery Store Hottie,

Thank you for waving me over to your lane this evening. I had entered the line where you were bagging because, well, I like to look at you wherever you are. Though talking to you is nice, too; I always enjoy your convincing concern about whether I found everything I wanted (um, YES - I only needed floss & Pirate's Booty because I've been into this store every day for a week...I appreciate you not judging), and your kind "Have a good evening" warms my heart. Plus, it cheers me that you never make reference to our obvious age difference of multiple decades. (Please note that if you ever want me to stop stalking you coming to your checkout, call me Ma'am. I won't be back because I will have died an anguished death). Anyway. I was secretly thrilled when you stopped bagging and went to open your own lane and waved directly at me in my general direction. Our encounter was, as usual, delightful; so much so that I extended it by asking for my $20 cash back in tens, please. Those extra seconds were precious to me, and to my children who spent the time racing around the produce section with a cart.

Yours until you call me old (or alert security),
Bad Mom
_________________________________

Dear Darling Husband,

I am grateful for your understanding attitude about my [not so secret] crushes on grocery store clerks. I'm glad you know it isn't about replacing you - even if a teenaged boy younger man were somehow interested in me, I would not want him. I live for your sweet smile, the way you think I'm sexy no matter what I'm doing or wearing, your endless handyman techniques, how you willingly, lovingly get me blankets and wine and tea from Singapore. I don't need you to do edgy things like wearing ear plugs or a wallet chain or a touch of eyeliner. You rock my world with your Relaxed-Fit Levi's and GAP t-shirts and black leather Skechers. Thank you for indulging my crazy.

Miss you terribly.
Love you always (with or without oatmeal carmelitas from you-know-where),
Bad Wife

vague sense of dissatisfaction ~ it's not you, it's me

Dear Fountains of Wayne Chris, Adam, Jody, Brian & Keyboard Guy whose name I don't know but you're very cute,

Good morning from the fan you may wish you never had. I have ridiculously high expectations. I was singing along last night at Wonder Ballroom, completely enamored with each of you. You all (except Keyboardist but only because I can't find any info about you, not because there's anything wrong with you) are on my Potential Second Husbands list. I am not crazy though; please read on.

It's my fault for loving you so much and playing all of your albums every day for the last week (which is not terribly different from many other weeks in the year), and building this appearance up as the Best Thing Ever. For the record, it was - until you were finished at 1 hour 15 minutes. Without playing "I-95," "Hotel Majestic," or my favorite from your new album, "This Better Be Good." Not to mention no "Utopia Parkway," "Red Dragon Tattoo," or "All Kinds of Time" (I wore my quarterback tank top! It's football season!). And only 2 songs from Out-of-State Plates! *sigh*

I gleefully bought tickets to the Portland concert as soon as I saw the stop on your tour calendar. I was giddy - it's the week before my birthday, perfect present, haven't seen all of you since Dante's (saw Chris & Adam at Music Millennium for the release of Out-of-State Plates - which was a delight! But not the same...). Got Traffic & Weather early since I ordered it from your online store (thanks! Extra glee!). No more exclamation points, I promise.

Essentially, my geekiliciousness caused me to make the concert a bigger-than-life event - it was featured in many posts on my blog. And I just wanted to let you know how I loved it so yet was terribly sad it ended so early. I get that it was cheap and Chris' butt hurt (get well soon). I still love you.

Have fun in Vegas - watch your cash, keep your ships together. I'll be driving my friends & family nutty waiting for your next concert.

Adoringly, if a little neurotically,
stephanie s. aka bad mom
vancouver, wa

don't wake me, it's fun in my world

My dairy guy has returned! Now he's Freezer Guy but no matter, I'm adaptable. Chances are I have more reasons to linger in the frozen foods section anyway; one can only spend so much time around yogurt & butter before looking suspicious. Or pathetic.

Let me relay the story of my Wednesday, junior high-style; it's so much more fun that way. So I was finishing grocery shopping for our camping trip - wait, here's the junior high part: I was wearing my Old Navy jeans that I cut off at the knees in a very "look at me not caring about fashion while I stay cool yet I still seem kinda hip as an older woman" way and a cute (tightish) heathered beige t-shirt and my Bohemian-style brown sandals with foxy "Run for the Bordeaux" red painted toenails showing. I know, totally cute, thanks. Anyway, I was feeling pretty good not only because of this sweet outfit but mainly because my shopping trip was working out efficiently and I was finding everything I needed (except Trader Joe's only had non-meat breakfast links - what the ?? And all of Safeway's graham crackers contained high fructose corn syrup, but otherwise...). I walked into Wild Oats expecting nothing more than healthier graham crackers (for s'mores, yes, but shut up) and actual meat sausages when BAM right in front of me - Dairy Guy! (Okay, I didn't really run into him, but figuratively I was knocked out. Keep up with the literary devices, please).

Long lost, sweet faced, "Would you like me to feel them?" [his innocent reply when I previously asked him to help me determine if coffee beans in a heavy paper bag were whole or ground] Dairy Guy. Sigh. My heart did leap, I gasped, but he didn't notice. Thank goodness, really, because how weird would that be? "Ma'am, are you alright?" "Yes, I was just really excited to see you again! But you don't know me..." Awkward smile, mental processing of my face for the backroom bulletin board notice 'Keep this woman out of the frozen food section when I'm scheduled to work.'

I picked up the things I needed and proceeded to troll the frozen food aisle until he was compelled to ask if I was finding everything alright. A more adept flirt with a ridiculous crush would be prepared at this point to make up something for him to find, but that's not me. I did manage a smile that I'm pretty sure didn't look too psychotic and said, "Yes, thanks." Which in a classic romantic comedy would have been recognized as a clever little double entendre, but here in real life it just means, "There is no need for us to interact any further. Thank you. Goodbye." And that was that. Enormously significant in my suburban wife & mom world (obviously); just another day on the tiresome job for Dairy/Freezer Guy. Maybe I should drop a card with my blog address on it? So he could perhaps call the cops the next time I stop by for frozen food products? Yeah, nevermind.

Tune in next time when I deliberate over possible reasons for his six month absence (none of which feature a lovely new wife and extended honeymoon).

Author's note: You are not crazy; this entry just showed up Friday the 13th. However, I manipulated the 'post options' to show this as Wednesday's post, because that is when all of these 'events' occurred AND I actually hand-wrote it on the way to camping. It makes me happy to be precise.

knives in the play area

I don't make resolutions in January for a couple of reasons. 1) I consider my "new year" beginning in September because I am that geek who has always loved the fresh promise of back to school, and 2) they are dumb and make me feel guilty when I ultimately fail. As a practicing perfectionist, I don't like to fail and so refuse to start anything that might not end successfully. This doesn't mean I don't start things without finishing (see the chicken/muffin entry) - that's just perfectly doing something else, which is still success. I have the right to change my mind.

That said, I did have an epiphany of sorts on the flight to Singapore last month. (It could also have been severe lightheadedness due to lack of fresh air & sleep after 18 hours). I read about a group of friends in San Francisco who banded together and refused to buy any new products (besides food, hygiene, and safety items) for a year, calling their agreement The Compact (check out the link to their blog, if your eyes haven't completely glazed over by this point). Now, I am an intelligent person like you and my first thoughts went something like this:

Of course San Francisco, bunch of granola weirdos
How can you not buy anything for a whole year?? That's crazy...
Probably rich granola weirdos
They obviously don't have kids
Why is that guy wearing an orange tie?

Regardless, the idea nagged me during my week-long vacation in the land of The Great Singapore Shopping Challenge (seriously - the entire nation of retailers is required to have sales for a whole month each year). These people shop nonstop, day & night, all over this gorgeous tropical island. Even for me, it became ridiculous. So I channeled these granola weirdos and found myself thinking about every single product I saw, touched, picked up. Do I really need this? Can I find something like it at home? Will it be truly useful to whomever I'm giving it? I focused on spending my money on experiences - a spice garden walk, the art museum, lunch at a charming hidden cafe - and a few souvenirs created by actual artisans, not sweaty, malnourished Chinese children. Okay, I did buy a Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt and an Emily the Strange bag (actually two, they were only $3!). But anyway.

An essential piece of The Compact is getting rid of stuff you don't need and seeking what you do from secondhand resources. Compactors (we are a people) are encouraged to frequent cyber communities like Craigslist and Freecycle. I created a staging area for items that were going onto the giveaway list - a small table in our back room, next to the computer - for convenience and to clear clutter from the main living areas. In my purging state, I decided our knife block was unnecessary as we have a drawer full of nicer, more functional knives. Off it went to the staging area. Which is also, I had conveniently dismissed, where my children play occasionally. Last week as I chatted away with my best friend, she spied amidst an assortment of picture books, finger puppets, a tape player, pick-up sticks, and card games - the knife block. Ha ha, funny explanation, ha. Luckily, she understands my lunatic obsessions, knows me to be a good bad mom, and most importantly, doesn't have the time to sit on hold with CPS.

Two weeks into the new year and my non-resolution is going well. I've found replacement items for necessities at the antique and thrift stores, and I have resisted a powerful urge to troll the clearance aisles at Target. Sometimes I experience shopping withdrawals so I head to the grocery store where the cute dairy stock guy works and try to find things I need, because food is an approved purchase. And stalking is free.