Green bean cassarole @#%!

I haven't done ANY shopping for my kids yet this year. I could use the excuse that I've had a monster cold, or that my brother and his family are only here through tomorrow, or I've been making gifts for other people. But the truth is that BD and I usually do this. In fact, I was reading through my posts from this time last year and came across this one...

There are food items that I dread to put on my grocery list because I know I will spend the majority of my shopping time wandering the aisles, searching for an item that the nebulous "grocery store planners" have determined it should go. Here's how I imagine a planning meeting between these execs might go:

"Where should we plan to put the french-fried onions?"

"Well, they are frequently used for green bean casserole."

"What's that? Does it have caviar in it?"

"No, I think it has green beans and mushroom soup."

"Sounds cheap. Like it might make someone have to go to the bathroom. Let's put them next to the toilet paper."

"Right. How about powdered milk?"

"Put it on the other side of the store, next to the medicine and shampoo."

"That makes sense. People can make homemade medicated shampoo with it. Now how about the pickles?"


So last night I needed French-fried onions. Mr. Shumway and I went to a super store so we could also do some last-minute Christmas shopping. When a person visits an unfamiliar grocery store, an additional 30-45 minutes are needed to compensate for wandering the aisles, searching fruitlessly for certain items. As soon as we started in on the grocery part of our shopping expedition, Mr. Shumway remembered something he needed in another section, leaving me to fend for myself. I eventually got everything else on my list, then went down every aisle that MIGHT possibly have french fried onions. No luck.

Since Mr. Shumway hadn't returned yet (25 minutes later), I figured I'd take the time to go down EVERY aisle, as well as check all the endcaps. I didn't find the french-fried onions, but I did frequently pass some of the same people wearing similar confused expressions. When I passed the same woman for the fourth time, she met my eyes.

"We keep meeting." She laughed nervously.

"Yeah," I agreed, trying to move my cart to the side.

"All I want is RAISINS." Her voice rose until the last word was nearly shouted.

Suddenly my frustration also rose. "I'm looking for FRENCH-FRIED ONIONS."

"I saw those OVER THERE," she said, pointing in the general direction of the back of the store.

"The raisins are by the cereal," I nearly shouted. People were staring by this time, but I knew they wished they could let loose enough to be rescued from their trance-like aisle-wanderings.

The lady led me to the french-fried onions that were in a separate display by the pharmacy, hidden below a shelf of maraschino cherries. Then she hoofed it towards the cereal aisle.

Proof that the spirit of brotherly kindness still lives.

Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus

I believe girls are born intuitive. They see the world in shades of gray, as it were, whereas boys tend to see the world in black and white. There are all kinds of books about the fact that men and women think completely differently; the male brain is typically more logical and thinks linearly from point A to point B, etc, whereas the female is more emotional and her thoughts are more of a web. She usually comes up with the right answer, but cannot always tell you how she arrived there. When it comes to relationships, this causes women to be more interested in face-to-face relationships where they discuss feelings, whereas boys like to DO activities together and have no desire to discuss feelings. This truth was demonstrated to me as clear as day yesterday.

I was in the basement on the treadmill while my daughter, my niece, and their friend were playing. Later on, my daughter came up to me and said, "Were you mad at me in the basement, because every time you looked at me, your eyes seemed angry?"

Now, I had been annoyed because my treadmill time is usually my time for me to be alone with my thoughts, or listen to music I want to listen to, or watch detective shows on TV that I can't watch when there are children around. But I didn't want the kids to know that, so how did she know?

But it didn't stop there. Later in the car, my daughter and my niece were talking.

Niece: "Are you mad at me?"

Daughter: "I thought you were mad at me."

Niece: "No, I was just mad at myself because I didn't know what to do."

Daughter: "You acted like you were mad at me."

Niece: "So did you get mad at me because you thought I was mad at you?"

Daughter: "Well, a little bit. I just didn't understand."

Niece: "But I didn't know which way to go on the pillow-path! I wasn't trying to keep Kylie from being able to have her turn!"

Daughter: "Were you a little mad at me then?"

Niece: "Well, a little."

Daughter: "I was too, but I'm not mad now."

Niece: "But how did you feel when you were mad at me?"

Daughter: "I was just a little sad, but I'm happy now."

Niece: "But when we played that game, I didn't mean to keep Kylie from having a turn."

And the conversation continued in that manner for a good ten minutes. Now here's how I imagine that conversation between a 9 and 10 year boy would go:

Ten year old boy: "Did you see me pass Tommy up?"

Nine year old boy: "Yeah. You made sure no one could beat you."

Ten year old: "Well he wasn't fast enough, so I passed him and beat you both in a shut-out."

Nine year old: "Next time, you're going down."

Ten year old: "Hahahaha!"

Those memorable company dinners

First of all, I want to say bless those of you who have stuck with this little blog lately. It certainly isn't because I give you all interesting things to read! But I have to share something that happened to me last night.

If anyone has been around for a while, they might remember this post. You see, whenever I have the rare chance to actually dress nicely and attend a "grown-up" function, things seem to happen.

BD's company Christmas Dinner is a function we both enjoy every year. This year it was at Fogo de Chao, a Brazillian Steakhouse. Oh. My. Goodness. The STEAK. It just keeps coming! Let me tell you, this place is not for vegetarians, but it was some of the best steak I've ever had in my life!!! You have a disc that is red on one side and green on the other and if you turn it to green, they just keep bringing you different cuts that have been grilled on a spit and slice the type of cuts you like, so every bite is hot and tender and it never ends. I mean the tenderloin! The ribeye! You just finish eating a round of all the different cuts, and they start all over. Your glass is NEVER empty,and they are constantly replacing the side dishes so they are always hot and fresh. And of course we had dessert, the best creme brulee I've ever had. Anyway, we had never eaten so much steak in our lives and it caught up with us on the way back to the car when both BD and I wondered if we might get sick from being so full. But that's not what this story is about.

Being 40 hasn't bothered me at all since I actually feel better right now than I have in a long time. But at events like this, I DO care about looking my best. So when I planned what I would wear ten days ago yesterday, I decided on a top that had a wide vee-neck. Now, in the past, I've had a problem with getting hives on my neck and chest when I get nervous, but hey, I'm 40 now. I've outgrown that, right? I mean, the worst I ever had them was on my prom day when every picture showed those ugly big red blotches marching across my chest as plain as day. But that was over 20 years ago. That doesn't happen anymore. I'm an experinced woman of 40, not a girl of 17!

Can you see where this is leading? That's right. At the beginning of the evening, we all just stand around, chit-chatting with people we haven't seen in a year. And there's always new people you've never met. OK, it's awkward, but we all do our best. So anyway, the waiters came around asking each of us what we wanted to drink and everyone was acting so...well, knowledgeble about different types of wine, etc. So I decided I'd act knowledgable as well and impress BD's co-workers by asking for the only wine I know by name that I like...Gevertaminer. (I have no idea how to spell it). But there was a problem with my plan. The waiters weren't exactly fluent in English. Actually, the one I spoke to didn't seem to know what in the world I was talking about and my little plan to impress BD's co-workers and their dates by gracefully and subtly ordering a specific wine turned into a five minute struggle to communicate. I was hopelessly snarled and didn't know what to do and the worst part was that I felt the familiar red-hot tingle across the skin of my chest and knew my old friends, the HIVES, were back. Finally someone said in my ear, "Just say red or white." I nearly shouted at the man, "Red!" He started to say something about bottle or glass, only with such a heavy accent, again I didn't understand. The same voice told me, "Say glass." I did and accompanied it with a hand gesture that said clearly, "Now go away before my hives get worse!"

So after some nervous chuckling by the group that had witnessed my unraveling, the woman I had just met, the date of a co-worker, turned to me to resume our conversation about her job as a hospital administrator. But her gaze fell to my neck and chest with a confused, then sympathetic/humorous look several times during the rest of our conversation. Yeah. It's pretty hard to look like a cool, composed and confident woman while causing a scene and breaking out in red blotches. But hey, I'm a 40 year old stay-at-home mom from Indiana. I'm sure I carried it off, because after all, that's how I roll.

ZAP!!

Do yourself a favor and check out BD's blog entry today...I've been feeling under the weather, so he told me that this blog entry would cheer me up. He was right. :-)

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