Sandwiches are Good

And now, to completely lighten the mood, I must share with you that I won a most fabulous giveaway over at Sandwich 365.  It is a gift card to CSNstores.com, and I am so excited. 

My thanks to Keri for both her giveaway and her deliciously fun blog.  If you like sandwiches ~ and who doesn't ~ or even just good blogging, you have to check out her very original, very fun blog.

I'll bet not even Keri knew that my favorite quote about life involves a sandwich . . .

I had been going to college at night, part-time for nearly 5 years.  It was time to start making some decisions.  I felt the call of law school, yet was daunted by the time, cost, and challenge that law school and, later, a legal career would mean.  I looked to my favorite English professor for some perspective.  He was a lawyer by day and an English Lit. prof by night.  I summed up my issues and desires and apprehensions.  I shared my worries about the expense of law school and the financial struggle it would be.   I asked him what he thought, to which he answered:

"Life is short.  Do what you want.  You can always find someone who'll make you a sandwich." 

So there you have it.  And he is right.  For the most part, people are kind and, should you need it, they will help you.  Lean on that knowledge when you need some comfort and encouragement and then set your shoulders back and get on with it.

 
Thanks, Professor Campenni!

And thanks, again, to Keri at Sandwich 365 ~

 
 

Mutiny On the Bounty Aisle

 
The balance of the universe has been upset.

Leaders overthrown.

Mayhem.

Can you feel it? Has everything been a little askew for you since last weekend?

Me, too.

Here's what happened:

I was sick last weekend.

We needed food.

My husband went to the grocery store and took the kids with him.

Now, my husband does not get to the grocery store very often at all and almost never with the kids. He was like a babe in the woods . . . a babe in the woods escorted by two sharks.

A few years ago, when my children were preschool age and in the middle of a raging sibling rivalry, I established some ground rules for grocery store conduct.

1.  No one pushes the cart, but me.

2.  No one rides on the cart. (My daughter can't stay on, and my son is so tall I can't see past him.)

3.  No one grabs anything off the shelf, but me.

4.  No one puts anything in the cart unless I expressly ask them to. (Grabbing things out of my hand while offering to put them in the cart is not helpful and not appreciated, because it only provokes the other one to grab more quickly next time resulting in my virtual mugging every time I pick an item off the shelf.)

And 5.  My daughter (as the chief offender) must walk slightly behind my son. (This method makes racing impossible and reduces cut-offs drastically.)

These rules may sound harsh, but they are not as harsh as my tone of voice and mood upon exiting the grocery store before said rules were invoked. Harmony for all, that's my motto.

So my poor, innocent, naive husband returned from the grocery store, the kids sheepishly following behind him. Once I confirmed that he did, indeed, get my juice and cough drops, I remarked on the notable tension in the room.

My husband choked out, through gritted teeth, "These two were just terrible. They drove me nuts the entire time."

I looked at them.  They averted my gaze.

I looked back at my husband.  "You didn't let them push the cart, did you?"

"Well, yeah, why?"

Why? Why???

All the things I have worked so hard for . . . the peace, the harmony, the order . . . all down the drain . . .

My son pushed the cart.

My daughter "helped" by putting things in the cart.

My son began "correcting" the order of things in the cart.

My daughter resented said correction.

Bickering.

Racing.

Cut-offs. 

Toes run over.

Limping.

Tattling.



Mayhem.  Just may.hem.

All rules thrown over.

Power has shifted back to the sharks.

All in one innocent trip to the grocery store.

 

Have You Met My Grandma?

Have you met my grandma? 

You should. 

Allow me.  

She was a delightful lady who had ways all her own and opinions to match and yet never hurt anyone. 

She was a true lady.  She always wore perfume and dressed in mostly pastels, declaring black "much too sad."  She matched her purse, her shoes, and often even her lipstick to her sweater which matched her slacks and somehow she always looked elegant.  She was not seen without her hair done and her makeup on.  When I spent a weekend with her, she would paint my nails to match hers . . . "our little secret," because I wasn't really allowed.  She always remembered to take it back off before I went back home.  Except that once. 

She matched her bed clothes to her bedroom decor.  This was a revelation to me when I was a child.  My bedroom was pink, but I slept in all colors and patterns, until the day my grandma and I were out shopping.  I picked out a powder blue nightgown.  "But your bedroom is pink, Honey . . . this pink one will look much nicer."  "But Grandma, who sees me when I'm sleeping?"  "You do, Dear."  My first lesson in taking pride in myself for myself's sake. 

My grandma hosted all the major holidays.  She cooked enough for an army, but did it with lavish style and love.  And she often put Santa Claus to shame with her personalized gifts amassed throughout the year. 
She wore red, white, and blue on the Fourth of July and took us to every neighborhood parade in town.  Quite a feat when they all ran at practically the same time. 

She listened to opera music and easy listening and held her head up high when her teenage-grandchildren-detractors teased and jeered.  She eventually won me over to opera music, but never knew.


My grandma loved licorice and Johnny Carson and a good sleepover.  She would enthusiastically participate in my ongoing experiment to try to stay up all night.  She taught me to play double solitaire and would find ways to lose often enough to fund my personal shopping wallet for the next day. 

She loved strawberries and had a big strawberry patch in her backyard.  She ordered only strawberry pie and strawberry ice cream. 

She was the one to tip me off, "Appear aloof to the boys who show interest in you," and to pinch my cheeks before answering the door. 

She also told me I was beautiful, and, God love her, I think she really meant it . . . even though I really wasn't beautiful. 

Have you met my grandma?  No, I know you haven't.  And now you won't.  Because she died.  She died on this day sixteen years ago.  And I miss her freshly every. single. day. 

Field Trip! Everyone in the Van!

Well, I don't know about you, but I've had enough of this place. It has been a challenging week and it's only Thursday.  I need a field trip. Everyone grab a cuppa and hop in the van -- let's get out for a while.


How do you like our ride?  These two will take us wherever we want to go in style . . .

 

How 'bout here:

 Let's go!

Look at all these milk cartons!  Remember when milk came in brightly color cartons?  They looked a lot more cheerful than the gloomy jugs we have now.  

 

 See any you remember?

How 'bout these little school milks, remember these?

 

White or chocolate?  

What's with the iced tea one?

Okay, milk's not your thing . . . 

How about this booth:

See anything you like?  

How 'bout that bike?  I had one much like it when I was a kid.  I should have gotten a special shot of the daisies on the seat.  Mine was powder blue, though.  I really, really wanted the orchid one with the gears, but my parents insisted a 6 year old did not really need gears and hand-brakes.  Whatever.

I could take those pink and black bar stools in the back.  Think of the room you could make around those.  Anything catch your eye?

 

For the energy-conscious lamp user.

Perhaps you need a new man?

G.I. Joe, anyone?

Of course, there's always the obligatory PEZ booth:

 

Personally, I just don't get this, but to each their own . . . it keeps them away from my kind of stuff.

Like these lovely ladies:

PEZ dispenser collectors NEVER arm wrestle me over these.

This is my kind of booth.  I love kitcheny antiques.

Are you in the market for a piece of your childhood?

 

See anything you had?  I might have had something like that big red plastic horn.

Thirsty?

Okay, maybe we should split up for a while.  You know, in case you want to buy me a surprise or something.  I'll meet you at the end of the aisle . . .

 

All done?

Well, did that do it?  Feel better now?  

Me, neither . . .

Next stop -- Florida!

What?  It is TOO real!

Thanks for hanging around with me today,

HELP: Shop the Shoppe!

Remember a few posts ago, in A Chance to be Profound, I told you about a little Christmas shopkeeper who was so kind to me, at a time when my spirit really, really needed it?  I just got word that the shop is struggling this year.  Really struggling.  As the shopkeeper's sister wrote in a comment to that post just today, Demory's is "going through tough times right now."  (gulp)  We all know what that means in these tough times.

The thought of this particular shop closing makes my heart heavy, not because of anything in particular in their store -- though all their merchandise is lovely and fairly priced -- but because of the kindness and ethic that came along with the merchandise.  That is a rare commodity that we have undervalued for far too long, don't you agree? 

How's your Christmas shopping going?

Are you finished?

If you are, how did it go?  Were you treated kindly?  Did you leave the store feeling better than you did when you came in?  Probably not. 

ughhhhh!

In fact, when was the last time you left a store feeling beholden to the shopkeeper for treating you so well?  I'll bet most of you can't remember.  And if you can, it was a little shop like Demory's. 

If you're not finished, why?

Are you out of ideas?  Any chance they would like something from a little Christmas shop in Maryland?

How is your spirit feeling this season?  Christmas and otherwise.  I know mine waxes and wanes . . . and often this time of year, I keep my eyes open for that last little something to do to make the season brighter for someone else, thereby replenishing my Christmas spirit as well.

Well, I found it.

And I pass it along to you as well:  Shop the shoppe!

If you need a gift for someone yet . . . consider a Christmas item from Demory's.  Big or small, I know they'd love your business. 

 

Demory's Christmas Memories

301-739-9627

If nothing else, at least visit their website, for a unique experience . . . the website reflects the person, not only the merchandise . . . very refreshing.

Feel free to grab the button for your own blog and help me spread the word.  (I feel just like Meg Ryan in You've Got Mail . . . "Can we save the Shop Around the Corner???"  If only I had her cute hair . . . but I digress . . . let's get to work!)  

Let the LORD be magnified, 

which hath pleasure in the prosperity of his servant.

From Psalm 35:27

Christmas Glam

So who still needs a Christmas gift idea for me?  Hmm??  Anyone??   

I was just over on Etsy window shopping . . . and have now really done it.

I found this:

Rare Late 30's early 40's Vintage Christmas Chiffon Gown

 

 

Now, I'm left pining after a dress that is:

1.  Way too expensive.

 

2.  Way too impractical.

3.  Way too small (24" waist, yah!).

I took myself window shopping to cheer myself up.  Ha!  We're not even officially in the holiday season yet, and I feel forced to say, 

Bah Humbug!