Shoppin' Trip

Have you ever had one of those days? You know the one.
Well, I’m at the end of one of those days.
As I drudged back to Smith’s Market Place for the second time today, and the fifth time in two days, I started reviewing how many times I go back to the store in one day.
At least an average of two. Two times a day, six days a week.
And it’s not for groceries, or rather major groceries, it’s for simple things, one or two items I forgot, when I went major grocery shopping a few days before.
Or it’s for the three items I need to complete a recipe I want to try out.
And it gets more and more expensive each time I go on one of these “quick trips”.
The real problem is I live 1.7 miles away from the grocery store.
I can’t help but wonder if I lived further away, would I drive there so much?
Yes, I probably still would.
So tonight I found myself wanting to try out a frosting recipe.
Of course, I can’t make a regular frosting. I can’t even buy a less expensive ready-made frosting. I have to try a recipe I saw on The Food Network. And of course, I don’t have the ingredients on hand to do this.
I jump in my car, for my quick, secondary, jaunt and hurry into the store.
I always hurry into the store, as if I am competing in a grocery-store Triathlon.
I have my strategy already planned by the time I park my car.
My goal is usually to the tune of, “In and out in ten minutes”.
I don’t know why I do any of this.
I usually get the extra small shopping cart, thinking this will save me money, but never pick up just the basket because I always over fill those and it hurts hanging off my arm.
I dodge other “Triathletes” bobbing and weaving in and out of aisles, hurdling over and under people in my way of the Gelatin.
When I have gathered all my necessities, I sprint to the check-out and then decide it would be much faster to go through the self-check-out line. I am a pro-self-check-out-er.
After a day of feeling under appreciated and over worked, I have to begrudgingly explain I love going through the self-check out and not because it’s faster. The sad truth is that I secretly get a rush when I pull out my “Fresh Values” card and scan it.
I smile, every time, at the computerized voice, “Welcome Valued customer”.
A Valued Customer! Me! I know, I know pathetic.
But alas I never savor the moment, I am in a hurry.
I pick up my bag, (which incidentally this little trip cost me, $18, FOR FROSTING FIXINGS) and dash outside to my car that has a strategically placed scratch going from the driver’s side door to the back passenger door roughly the height of a grocery cart handle, and it is the second one I have gotten within two days.
One might wonder why I would do this, day after day, a couple times a day, and six days a week. I can’t answer that.
I can however answer why it was worth it this trip and it is because I am making brownies with chocolate frosting and anything that is chocolate and smothered in more chocolate is worth all other aggravations, that is if the frosting recipe actually works out.

Sick of Summer Vacationing

I have had a wonderful summer. I admit it.
My family and I have been going and traveling since April. I should feel grateful. Instead I feel like I want to take a break from Summer Vacation.
I don't want to go anywhere or visit anyone.
It's not that I hate people.In fact the opposite is true. I love my family, immediate and extended. I love my friends, too. It isn't that I haven't thoroughly enjoyed the places we have vacationed to either.
It comes down to, when is enough, enough?
I'm tired. I want to be at home.
I want to watch my kids run through the sprinklers in the back yard and then go to lunch in my own kitchen.
I miss having a mundane schedule.I crave not having to account to anyone but ourselves.
I heard the most outlandish idea, instead of a "Vacation", to save money you have a "Stay-cation". I can only imagine all the work that would go into trying to make a memorable event out of every day life, and I bet it would cost you double.
I don't begrudge going on a good ol' fashioned holiday, I'm just tired and want to stay home for a while.

Tanning Bed Blues or Articifially Sun-Kissed

I have a confession to make. I go tanning, in tanning beds and outside next to swimming pools. I know it is not fashionable and percievably scary, but I need the vitamin D. I don't do it daily. I don't do it weekly, but if I feel blue, I go tanning.
One night my hubby and I took a trip to the tanning salon. It had been a week two of heavy rain, and I just don't do well in rainy weather. I opted to go 13 minutes and was told to go to bed number 15.
I did. I stripped down to nothing in less than 3 minutes (the allotted time until the bed turns on) put on the "sun goggles", laid on the freezing plastic bed and waited. I also put my phone next to the pillow, just in case my kids called and placed my Mp3 ear buds in. Knowing that any minute, the bed would turn on.
Nothing happened.
I waited, shivering, a little longer.
Nothing.
I got up and went to the button on the wall and pressed the "begin" button.
Still nothing happened.
I was stark naked and wasn't sure how to proceed. Do I quickly get dressed and go to the front desk? Or, the salon was small, maybe I could just call out...
I called out, "Hello?"
No answer.
I called out louder, "Hello? Front Desk?"
The girl at the front desk answered, "What?"
"Um, the bed's not working in number 15."
"Yes it is. I see it's running." Was her reply.
Suddenly a thought followed by dread crept in me. What if I was in the wrong room?
I quickly got dressed and looked up at the posted room number.
13.
I ran into the next bed, the correct number 15 and giggled.
The girl from the front desk noticed my dash into the next bed and after she rolled her eyes and asked if I had been naked in the bed, told me she would re-set the time.
Again I stripped down, to nothing.
Then, I noticed I accidentally kept the "sun goggles" from the last bed.
I panicked.
Do I get dressed again and run next door to put them back? Do I keep them and take them back after my 13 minutes?
Truthfully I wasn't feeling like myself. I was humiliated.
Anytime I am naked, I feel uneasy.
Every time I go tanning, I have to take deep gulping breaths and tell myself, "It's OK. I'm OK."
But then to realize I disrobed in the wrong room and actually called out, calling attention to my stupidity, and nakedness, I wasn't thinking correctly.
So, I chucked the "sun goggles" as hard as I could, with a grunt, up over the partition wall, aiming for the vicinity of bed number 13.
I heard a loud high frequency "smack" as the goggles hit into the neighboring bed.
I held my breath.
Maybe the front desk girl didn't hear it.
Maybe the front desk girl wouldn't know it was me.
After realizing the allotted 3 minutes had ticked by, I jumped into my blazing sun bed and did everything I could to relax.
I told myself, "I don't ever have to go back into room 13, I replaced the goggles, kind-of...hopefully. It's alright".
I turned on my Mp3 and did my normal, sing-along, and back-dance as I waited for the 13 minutes to be up.
During the course of my third lip-sync I realized something else, "Where's my phone?"
I had left my phone, in bed 13, next to the head pillow, probably close to a pair of recently air-born protective eye wear.
Crap!
The last 6 minutes dragged on.
I kept watching the minutes, "Come on! Come on!"
What if my kids had tried calling?
What if someone else was occupying the bed now?
As soon as the vitamin D filled lights dimmed, I jumped out of the bed.
I threw on my clothes, minus my bra, which I shoved in my pants' pocket (keep in mind, I need to wear a bra, always, other wise I become quite Tribal).
I ran into the other room, relieved that no one else was in there.
I grabbed my phone, still exactly wear I had left it and did a quick scan to see wear the goggles had landed.
No such luck on the goggles. I never found them.
When I finally emerged, my husband was waiting. I was giggling nervously.
As we past the front desk, there was now two girls manning it. They looked at me and rolled there eyes.
This particular tanning session wasn't as relaxing as usual. Maybe I should have stayed at home and watched the rain.

Hero Status

Recently I heard a rumor that a childhood friend of mine had Breast Cancer. It was very dis concerning. So I contacted this person via facebook, asked to be her friend and she, the very next day accepted me as one. Also dis concerning. When I was in 10Th grade I had a falling out with a group of girls, the one with Breast Cancer happens to be one of them. When I asked to be a facebook pal of hers, I was expecting to be refused. I actually steeled myself for the rejection. However, with her "extended hand" per say I felt a wave of relief. Does she forgive me for my behavior in High School? Should I forgive her?
In what I was hoping to be a grand gesture, I wanted to let her know that I was thinking about her and worried about her. I wanted to give her hope and know I was pulling for her and wanted her to kick Cancer.
So I wrote on her facebook wall something to the effect of "when someone has a hurdle like this one, they automatically achieve HERO status"... then I wanted to end it with something inspiring. I wanted to say, "good luck, you are a hero. You can do it! You are a conqueror!" I posted it on her wall. About three minutes later my husband came home. I asked him to read what I had posted. I was nervous because I hadn't talked to her in over 16 years. I didn't want to offend her in anyway. I wanted to be a vessel of hope to her.
My husband read the short comment. Then he reread it slower.
"I thought she has Breast Cancer?" He turned and looked at me.
"She does." I answered.
"Huh. So she has a drug problem, too?" He asked.
"No." I went to the computer screen.
I had written the stuff about getting through hurdles in life and then I ended it wanting it to state, "Good luck Conquering HERO-INE" (as in you are a conquering female hero). How it read however was, "Good luck conquering heroine" (as in you are addicted to drugs. Very bad drugs, and good luck in rehab).
It had only been three minutes since I posted this message. I was able to quickly edit it to, "good luck conquering hero" and then I re posted it.
I just hope no one read her wall within that three minutes!
It made me think. I wonder how often I hear things wrong, see things wrong and accept things in a different way than what was intended.
I hope my friend can conqueror Breast Cancer.
I also hope I didn't out her as a druggie!

Memory Foam

I was recently reading an article about muscles and the body. It was actually focused around a timeline of Brittany Spears' abdominal. Through out a one year period, Brittany's stomach went from teeny-tiny, to a gut and then cut, once more. In the article a known personal trainer explained that all muscles were actually equivalent to that of "memory Foam". Once you have toned your muscles a certain way, you can actually let them go and then get them back to firm in a relatively short amount of time, thus "memory foam"and thus, Brittany's Abs.
Crap! I thought, what if you never had Brittany's stomach, ever? What if you at one time or another , resembled another famous entertainer, like say, Sham mu? Does this mean, in a relatively short amount of time, I will "memory foam" myself back to the profile highly regarded by Sea World?
Does "memory foam" for me, mean the opposite?
So what about my long time effort of getting "desserts" low-fat, and sugar-free? What about the fact I haven't had Salad Dressing in 7 years? Does the "memory foam" theory mean that after digesting one normal (and probably better tasting) brownie, my stomach will balloon out, I will grow "cankels" and my butt will be once again four-dimensional?
Dang it!

Jumping off a Cliff

Yesterday I went to my Doctor with my same old issues I haven't been able to shake. I haven't felt well, I haven't been sleeping at night. I diet all of the time and have increased my exercises but haven't lost a pound. A new issue has arisen, I've been having trouble with memory loss. I told myself it was cancer. It's not that I hope to have cancer, not at all. I have this tendency to assume the worse, that way when I find out what the issue really is, I have already dealt with the emotions of the worse case scenario. In a weird way, handling situations this way has given me hope.
After a really long office visit (2 and a half hours), I was told I needed to go on Antidepressants.
Antidepressants?!!!
I felt as though I was asked to leap off a cliff, willingly.
I had the sensation I was blind folded, had my hands tied behind my back and was asked to jump. I know what I am jumping into. I have seen over that edge before. I know what is beyond it. I have jumped into that abyss and almost didn't survived.
Two seconds before, I asked my husband who went with me, what if I was told I needed pills?
He, in his normal soothing way, responded, "We'll tell them no. Absolutely not."
I felt reassured.
The two Doctors (one was a resident) came back in the room and explained that I had the signs of Depression.
How could this be? I have been battling Depression for almost my entire life. Two and a half years ago, I rid myself of all the Antidepressants I had been taking for 10 years.
I replaced the pills with regular exercise. I began reading self-help books about Positive self-talk and having a good attitude. I started doing things that scared me, things out of my comfort zone, to make me feel like I was living. I'm talking about, going back to school, and competing in a Triathlon. These types of things, in the name of self discovery.
So here I was in the Doctor's office, having a panic attack over the idea of once again needing to take pills.
I was devastated. I was even wishing for cancer!
My husband looked at me and then back at the two nervous looking Doctors, "OK, we'll give them a try."
Why would he do this to me? Doesn't he remember how I was on pills? I was a zombie, a non-person. I didn't do anything, I simply existed.
The three of them decided to just give me a prescription, in which I could fill it when ever I decided I wanted to. Wanted to?
To tell the truth, I am terrified. It's not the fear of the unknown, it's the fear of the known. After crying all day yesterday,last night I decided to jump.
I realized that for about a year I have been working so hard, only to find I am spinning my wheels. My little tricks to perk myself up have stopped working. I have been feeling despair and anger and that the world is Too big.
I had to jump.
I am constantly talking about taking control of my life. I am constantly working on fixing myself. Maybe instead of thinking I was asked to jump off a cliff, perhaps I've already slipped off the cliff and have been holding on to the deteriorating ground, and haven't noticed there's a net below me waiting to catch me. If I would just let go.
I took my first pill last night. I also forgave my husband for his "betrayal" and am trying to forgive myself for my depression.
I don't know if this will work. I do hope it will.
It's a lot of work jumping off a cliff. I hope I am doing the right thing, and at least have on a parachute.

Mak'economy

I have a gripe with how this bad economy is seeping into my makeup products. I keep spending more money for the stuff I've been using for years and getting less than half of the actual product.
I think people assume I wouldn't notice that my facial cream is only overly-whipped up to the lid and not actually filled to the lid. I am tired of having to buy more and more mascara because mine lasts for two weeks, when before I had it for months. What's up with that? Mean while I am spending 10, 20, 30 and even 40 dollars for half the amount.
I have also noticed foundations now come in new frosted bottles. This is so I can't actually tell how much I am getting.
I understand we are in a recession. I know prices are higher because of it. I also know I don't wear an inch of mascara, foundation and facial cream on my face everyday, ever!
I am tired of having to purchase more and more shampoo and conditioner because those run out every two weeks too. I know I haven't grown more hair. In fact, I keep loosing hair, which is evident by the strands left laying around my bathtub, toilet, shower, vanity and in my hair brush.
I just wish the economy would either stop sticking it's nose in my concealer, or would step up and add more of it in my frosted bottle of makeup.