BYOBag

Recently, I had to host a luncheon for an office in order to get some feedback about our services. Forty Dollars for a few sandwiches typically get you about 5-10 minutes worth of information, not counting the chews. Angela, my panera friend on speed dial, was of duty today, because I was lunching in a foreign territory. In Massachusetts tradition, this higher income strata town also begins with a 'W', and though my panera tradition would likely suffice, I couldn't order sandwiches for only 4 people and I didn't want to chance bacterial relocation in their colon with the long drive in my hot car. I remembered that there was a fancy grocery store chain close to the office. Heading toward Sudbury farms, I stumbled upon Whole Foods, one of my favorite chains, and thinking of Iggy's cranberry pecan bread hosting fresh turkey, I banged an immediate right into the parking lot.
Now, for a luncheon, the food needs to be plentiful, tasty and complete. Not knowing if anyone was a vegetarian,didn't eat beef, or was on a raw diet, I had to cover my bases. I grabbed cut fruit, a salad, a few sandwiches, some cookies, and a few bottles of water. Bringing my cart to the front, I noticed the reusable grocery bags and thought that it was finally time to cave. A tough decision because Whole foods has the best handled paper bags that were always useful.
I won't lie, I was in market basket a few weeks ago and contemplated buying their bright royal blue grocery bags but thought twice. They 'screamed' discount. I noticed that Shaw's had less obvious green cloth bags and thought for a minute about purchasing theirs, but decided against it, briefly thinking that I normally didnt shop there because it was too expensive. Here, I was faced with a whole foods bag decorated with pacifying muted blues and greens, that had a sign in front saying "I use to be plastic bottles". That sign was a sign and I purchased two bags.
Was it really a sign, or is there a class system of reusable grocery bags? Was it the esthetics that made me purchase it,or was it the fact that the whole food reusable bag was my visible committment to high end grocery shopping. After all, shopping in market basket with my whole food bags would look like I was 'just stopping in for a few quick things, I dont normally shop here'.
I headed into the Doctor's office with my artfully packed new grocery bags, looking smartly eco-conscious. Proud of my accomplishment, I took a step back and wondered if I was committed to helping the environment, or feeding my ego.
The truth will be told when I actually grab the bags off the floor of the closet (or wherever they end up getting shoved) and go grocery shopping.

Career Introspection

Leading up to my annual review for one of my positions, I began to look in-depth at my vastly different positions, what I liked, disliked and where I wanted to go from here. My self evaluation typically happens every 7 months or so, with or without the corporate paper trail.
Riding in to work together is typically the time we alot for deep discussions, whether it be about the fallen tree, a potential addition on the home, expenses, etc. You get the idea, right. Attempting to discuss anything at home is normally interrupted by:
"Mommy, Daddy, I have to go poop and you need to turn the light on so I can reach"
which inevitably ends up in a bathroom clean up because potty independence can often be a messy thing.
The morning ride began with traffic earlier than expected.
"Come ON!" my husband yelled, at arguably the shortest light in the history of a rotary at Wellington circle.
"I love my one job's flexibility" I started, ignoring the minor bout of road rage.
"and I love working from home, it is so great"
"Yeah, he agreed, moving the car forward a few inches toward the back of a grey camry. "Working at home is awesome" He proceeded through the light.
"I wish I could work from home all the time" I added.
"You can, just get a job that enables you to do that." He said. "I know, you could have a career doing phone sex" and laughed.
For those of you who know my oddly puritan ways, this would be possibly the last career I would excel at. However, knowing my husband, he couldnt resist laughing about it.
"I can hear it now, one of your calls...
'what are you wearing?'
and you would say, 'A T shirt and sweats' ...
'oh' click.
or even, 'You are doing whaaat??? eeeeeewwwww!"
At which point your manager would have to intervene. 'I told you that you should say, ooooohhhhhh, not eeeeewwwww.' or, 'You need to be a bit more verbally creative with your wardrobe'
We both got a good laugh on our way into work. Luckily, my annual review went well.

What you didn't know...

In light of the recent shoe wars, tie versus slip on, I noticed something about my husband that I hadn't ever realized in the 9 years of marriage.
"Um, what are you doing?" I asked, looking down at my husband crouched over my son's black sneakers.
"Tying his shoe!" frustrated, mainly because of his recent shunning of the slip-on merrill's.
"You still make bunny ears!" I laughed.
"Yeah, well how else do you tie shoes?"
Without a good answer, or wanting to complete the shoe tying task, I slunked off. I realized I had discovering something completely inane about my husband that I did not know. In doing so, I began to really listen and ask questions of others, knowing they must have magical talents as well. A surgeon I work with recently lost his grandfather, someone he was very close to growing up.
"He owned a trucking business" I was informed, after inquiring.
"Really?" wanting to know more.
"Yeah, he would wash trucks and work with his grandfather summers. I think he thought he was going into the trucking business."
and now he is a surgeon..I thought.
I remembered going to a 50th birthday party and scanning the collage of photo's of the honoree. 'who knew they could tap dance' I thought to myself a talent not typically useful in the day to day task management of running a clinic.
"Hey, what have I done that surprised you?" I asked my husband. Surely, I had a surprising talent.
Was it my ability to sleep with the TV on and rapidly awaken if you try to turn it off?
Could it be that I spend more than 20 dollars on one bra?
Possibly my keen ability to choose essentially the same style shoes with only minute differences but have at least 3 pairs in each color?
My innate joy picking through the tie racks at Filene's basement to find a Joseph Abboud or Zegna tie at 50-75% off.
My internal radar that alerts me to any time you are on the phone with your friend, trying to put in your fantasy baseball picks, or just listening to music so I can find a task for you to complete?
What about my ability to manage a crisis situation? Surely that was suprising?
I held my breath...
"I'm use to you by now."
Maybe so, but you never know.

Escape to the big K

I took the day after Memorial Day off, with no specific agenda, and woke up overwhelmed. Though I was away for the weekend,and cleaned my cottage rather thoroughly, I woke up and scanned my house with dismay. My agenda quickly filled.
Dropping my son off at daycare is not uneventful for me normally. I believe kids know when you have a weak spot, and they hone in. Really, they figure out that you have taken the day off based on your attire and decide to hound you because you have nothing better to do. I prepped him appropriately which included two kinds of bagels, one with cream cheese, one with butter, one whole wheat and one poppy seed. I picked out his favorite clothes, all the while talking about how much his friends missed him. The manipulation began.
"Daddy said that I could stay here and do this for as long as I want" He said.
"Really?" I am sure Daddy did not sanction lying in a pile of pillows watching Fairly Odd parents eating bagels and drinking OJ all morning. "Lets call him and find out" and I did.
Eventually, I got him in the car and down to preschool. We had to include one "capri sun" juice drink, a few more bites of bagel, and a lenthy argument over tie shoes or slip ons. Tie shoes were favored but the tongue was an endless complaint.
After dropping him off, and I wont bore you with details, I headed out. I thought about Home Depot, Lowes, getting gas, vacumming my car, buying plants for the back yard, but I pulled into the Big K. K-Mart.
I noticed people were walking in, so I decided to browse. Itwas 8:30 in the morning.
I browsed in the comforter sets, finding one I liked only to find that it seemed only available in Queen size. The employee, obviously caffienated, asked if she could help.
"Just looking" I said.
I browsed in the outdoors area.
"Well good morning young lady!" I heard bellowing from the electronics section.
I looked behind me and to the side. 'young lady?' I thought, Okay, I'll play.
"Hi!" I answered back.
"CAn I help you with something?"
"Just looking" again, I answered. I veered off toward the snacks. Narrowly avoiding a large rolling cart of things needing to be stocked.
"Good morning" I heard from behind the cart. Okay, this is getting weird. I have been to Kmart a few times but never assaulted by so many chipper employees waiting to help me. "Do you need help finding something?" He asked.
I looked down at myself, wondering if I looked like I was casing the joint. Were most 8am shoppers more goal oriented? Okay, I will bite.
"Where are the cleaning products?" I asked, thinking of my messy house awaiting my return.
He pointed one aisle away. I was on the right track.
Veering toward the other end of the store, which looked less stocked with employees, I browsed and examined the bras, the kids clothes, the Thom McAn shoe line and finally the paint. Originally I thought about painting today. All that was available was white. Bright white.
I went back to the comforters and contemplated putting a queen size on a king size bed.
It was 9a at this point and I had wasted 45 minutes looking at things that I didnt need in a store I didnt need to be in.
I realized it was just an escape, an easy avoidance of my to-do list that was growing ever so lengthy.
I headed home.

A Week in Soundbites

A rather hectic week that can only be adequately conveyed in soundbites, otherwise the details are sheer boredom.
Monday-
"Hey, did you notice the big wet spot on the rug downstairs?" I asked coming up from doing laundry.
"Yeah, I think the cat urinated there."
"Seriously? I dont think so. That's a lot of volume for a cat and it doesnt smell"
Tuesday-"Hey, can you come downstairs for a second, I think the rug is wet" My husband yelled upstairs.
"Put some paper towels down and see if they get wet" I answered.
"They are!" He yelled back. After investigating, more thoroughly, "Looks like the water heater is leaking"
Wednesday-(morning)
"Any word on who owns the tree that fell on the neighbor's house below us?"
"No word, I wonder if its our tree? Either way, we have to wait for the insurance person to call us. Good thing we have homeowners."
Evening
Via Voicemail- I am calling to find out if there is group tonite. The paper I have here says there is group the second, third and fourth wednesday of the month. Can you call me? It is the third wednesday and I want to know if there is group"
Thursday
morning (pre coffee)
"Hey, Eileen, Do I have a hole in my butt?" showing her the back of my pants.
Brian "Yeah, we all do"
Morning (during coffee)
To self-'Why are those guys fooling with the fire alarm and carrying clipboards, its only 8:15 am?'
Overhead via paging system "Code Red Third Floor, Drill"
"Why do they call a code red the minute you get in and get settled. They should call a code red when you need a break, at like 10a"
Night
"Tonite we are having Shrimp cocktail, chicken wings, sushi and Cherries" An odd combination, but it sounded good in the grocery store.
Husband "Could you have found any other foods that require a lot of work to eat?"

Good thing it's a long weekend.

Ex-Capades

I was recently watching TV, not sure which show, but was struck by a comment that when you run into an ex, there is always a winner and a loser. That being said, my campaign for exercise has gotten of to a weak start 6 months before my class reunion, but fate would not let me wait I suppose. Apparently, fate was on a more pressing time schedule.
My day started bright an early because I had somehow invited, well, lets say 9 adults and 4 children over for a cookout on my son's birthday. Family and friends, though related, seemingly do not appreciate a filthy house. It was overcast, outside was not an option. I mopped, I dusted (yes, with my new swifter duster!) and I scrubbed. My husband was in and out, juggling a few lists of things we needed, like food, while entertaining my 5 year old. At about noon, I finished and hopped into the shower. My stellar planning efforts nabbed me a cold shower, but whatever, I no longer smelled. People started coming, we grilled, we served, we sang Happy Birthday to my son, and I spent 10 minutes brewing individual cups of coffee for my guests. I love my Keurig daily, but it doesn't seem to do well in a large group, it is more of a monogomist.
"We didn't figure in company when we ordered the coffee" I said to my husband, while inserting the 5th Keurig cup. I probably should have dug out the Mr. Coffee.
Our plan was to go to the Carnival in the W-town with all the kids after the guests left. The kids, not being so subtle, kept coming in the dining room.
"When are we going???" we heard from each at about ten minute intervals.
In unison, my guests packed up and left, and we were off to the fair.
Normally, when going someplace, I think to myself, "who am I going to run into" and try to clean myself up a bit. You know, brush my hair, put on some make up, and maybe match my clothes. My jean capri pants weren't the stylish wide leg in fashion now, and my comfortable Rocket Dog velcro sneakers were off with my, well lets just admit it, Flood pants. I walked outside and thought it was kinda cold and grabbed my LLbean fleece, and had the sense to at least change from the capri pants. My hair was a bit off, well, one side was sticking out and I contemplated a hat, which I dont really look good in. "who cares what I look like" I thought, which was my first mistake.
We got to the fair and immediately sprung for 50 tickets to ensure maximum rides, but not before winning two stuffed animals (small) in the duck and fishing games.
"I want to go on the rollercoaster" one of the kids said.
"I want the dizzy dragons!" another said.
The lines were equally as long and we settled for the rollercoaster. Standing in line, the sun was hot, and we were looking around for our husbands who got stuck talking to people they knew. Looking around,I noticed an arm.
It is interesting when you recognize someone you havent seen in a while, you notice something about them. An aura or a shape, their face is not usually the first thing you see.
"Oh crap." I said to Rachel. "My ex boyfriend I havent seen in 10 years is here."
"What is an ex-boyfriend??" my now five year old asked.
"Never mind" I said. He was in line at the dizzy dragons, which thankfully we voted against. I thought about the wallet I returned the other night, and tried to figure out why Kharma was letting me look like a dyslexic LLbean outdoorswoman that got ready in an outhouse before coming here.
We continued onward, after splitting up, we took our friend's older girl and our son and went on rides, slides, and generally had fun until we got to the motorcycles. I was holding my son. He was standing across, watching his kids on the ride and realized who it was, did a double take, and came over. I was casual because I mentally was able to prepare.
"Hi" he said. We said hugged, we said hello. He looked thinner, or maybe it was my weight gain juxtaposed.
"Oh, Hi!" I said nonchalantly.
I introduced him to my husband and son.
"Hey," my five year old said. "You are my mommy's ex boyfriend"
Busted. We all laughed.
We chatted a bit, caught up on a few things, though there was so many more people I wanted to ask about that we knew. There was no winner, no loser, no crazy emotion. It just was. Who cared what I looked like because my life was the way it should have been. I was happier now in my life more than ever.
It is the way it should be.

Ode to a messy kitchen

Letting the dog out tonite, I walked by my cabinet and noticed a big dried drip of some sort of red food and/or drink.
'Where did this come from and what the hell is it?' I thought to myself, having done a quick cleaning last night in an attempt to pick up in preparation for our cookout tommorrow.
I pondered. I had no idea what that was. It looked like food, but it didn't resemble anything I recently purchased.
Is it that a bevy of strangers come into my house when I am not at home? A bevy not much interested in my treasure, but more interested in messing up my house. Strangers with extremely poor eating habits of only large quantities of stain-causing foods.
I immediately reached for one of the 6 bottles of simple green cleaner (purchased at the Christmas tree shop on sale) strewn about the kitchen. I cleaned it up.
'Yes,' I thought. That must be it. Strangers eating messily in my house because frankly, there is no other plausible explaination I can face right now.

Shopping Ed Hardy

Maybe it was over saturation watching "Rock of Love 2", Maybe it was a mid life crisis, but I felt the overwhelming urge to buy an Ed Hardy T (long sleeve, preferably a hoodie). After an exhausting search on ebay, trying to find just the right bargain, I realized that Ed Hardy had a richer following than I, and I really needed to justify spending over 100.00 on a hoodie.
The opportunity came when my husband, a baseball hat fanatic, saw some unusual red soxs hats in the window of what I could only describe as a gangsta store. Of course, we all went in. While he was shopping the hats, my son and I spotted some T's and Hoodies with the traditional Ed Hardy graffiti. JOY!! I made a beeline, but they were high up and I couldn't compare the size.
"Hey, do you like that one? It looks like it would fit you!" I said to my son, matching Ed Hardy's would be the coolest!
"Yeah, mom, I like the pink one." but of course. Luckily his dad was engrossed in comparison hat shopping.
The waif thin sales girls have all but been ignoring me speaking spanish, laughing.
Since I could understand, I didn't suffer from NSS, or nail salon syndrome when paranoia overcomes you with everyone speaking a foreign language around you.
"Ummm. Can I get a T in his size, and do you have anything in my size?"
Eyeballs up and down, I got the once over and a frozen look appeared on her face as she flicked her long black hair back with her freshly manicured talons.
"Those are ladies, they aren't kids. We dont have nothin in your size"
There was no way this chica was going to let me, a frumpy, middle aged soccer mom buy an Ed Hardy. Not until hell freezes over for sure.
Mortified, and equally thankful I wasnt wearing my new birkenstocks, I hung my head low and made my way out.
No Ed Hardy for me.
Mother's day came, and those of you blog fans will be relieved to know that I finally got 6 bottles of vitabath pink lotion, but no Ed Hardy. Remorseful from my previous day's fat clothes shopping spree, I headed out to Kohls to return some stuff. Shopping around, I found it. A perfect T shirt. Long Sleeved, looked Ed Hardy-esque and on the sale rack. Apparently Kohls shoppers dont value counter culture fashion as I do.
For 3 dollars, maybe 3.60, I bought myself a long sleeve Ed Hardy-esque T. Though it said something like "Couture" and not, "love kills slowly" I fed my mid life crisis. If I like it, I will invest in the real deal.
Until then, this soccer mom, birkenstock wearing, frumpy fat-ass will proudly wear her 3.60 T shirt.

Don't take offense...

I have decided recently, that working in healthcare as a provider requires a very thick skin. Frankly, I am not sure how I survived for so long, and contemplate if I have become less caring, or less empathetic.
In providing care, you seem to get assaulted from all levels, patients, physicians, admins, etc. Most of the time, the positive outweighs the negative, but for the most part, its a daily struggle in direct patient care. You take the positive where you can get it, a thank you, a hug, a smile, even a wave of recognition. As non-judgemental I am of you, I hope you are of me. Not always that way.
For some reason, I have become the "it" girl for email questions. Well, I know the reason, the other position has been vacant for 6 months and I am pretty much the contact person. My email box was joyfully blessed with the following email from someone I have never met, nor seen. (reworded, but you get the gist)
"I need to see a dietitian, I dont want to see you, so can you find me someone else in my area of MA. Don't take offense."
Of course not. Why would I take offense? My stellar reputation must preceed me!
Hopefully you can see the sarcasm dripping from that one. So I sit here, looking at this email, trying to figure out if I should be the bigger person and find her a dietitian. The other half of me realizes that I am not working right now for them and have way too much other stuff to do.

When Pigs Fly....

We were driving down route 1 in Maine on our way home.
"Which way do I go, the factory or the store?" My husband asked.
"The factory is probably closed, right? Lets try the store"
It was approaching 6 pm and both of us were skeptical that the store would be open still. It was a Saturday,and really, who would be needing a bakery at 6p on a Saturday.
"There it is!" I yelled. A truck had pulled up to the door.
"Are you open?" I yelled out the window at a slightly hippy-ish looking guy.
"Yeah, but I'm just bagging up, go on in!" he yelled back. Suprisingly, not irritated. God Bless those Maine-ers!
I jumped out of the car as soon as we stopped.
"Can I wait in the car?" my husband asked. There was probably some ball game on, Base, basket, foot...
"No! You have the cash, and I want to get one for your mom." I yelled, turning back from a sprint.
The sales clerk yelled instructions.
"OLive and rosemary loafs are bagged up in the front." Yeah, right. Sounds good, but not for me now! I came for the chocolate bread!
I looked down into the dark wicker basket lined with wax paper. None. A few crumbs. I was saddened. The salesclerk saw me, and intuitively knew I was lost.
"I have some in the back. One?" he asked.
"Make it two!" another woman chimed in. She also seemed to have sprinted in at the last possible minute to get her fix of chocolate bread.
You are asking yourself, how did this all start? Or not, you might be asking yourself, Chocolate bread?
It was early in the morning, the winter after we got our son, who enjoyed waking up at about 5am. I hadn't yet started taping Law and Order to watch early in the morning, but did find the Phantom Gourmet. My former boss, also a fan, enjoyed this show also, so we had something to discuss. It was a Phantom special, The best of New England, or something like that. I had discovered another ME treasure, Wicked Whoopies on this show as well, but they had Massachussetts availability. The chocolate bread from the When Pigs Fly bakery intrigued me. I had seen the brand in our local Shaws, but it was traditional harvest wheat, rye, sourdough, and the always edgy cinnamon raisin. No chocolate bread. Until I went to Kittery and became hooked. At 6.00 a loaf, it is worth it. I discovered other fun flavors like cinnamon banana pecan, or something like that, which taste phenomenal with butter for breakfast, or maybe as french toast. Each time we go, I get a loaf or two, much to my husbands frustration.
"Six Dollars a loaf!" He always comments.
Now, you are likely wondering what I am having for breakfast today. An egg white omelet? Whole wheat waffles?
I will just leave it at this, I made a new, flavorful discovery. Super tasty, super yummy, so much so that both the cat and dog are vying for some.
Toasted chocolate bread, peanutbutter and fluff.
Yummy.

Catatonic

I took the T to work today for the first time in a while. I actually took the T home the other night, after two drinks, but I was fairly oblivious at that point to most everything except for the add the diagnosed me with Fibroids.
"Do you have bloating, abdominal pain, frequent urination?" It yelled from the poster.
"Why yes I do!" I thought, after two vodka containing drinks, though I think that the vagueness of those sypmtoms could apply to anyone at a given moment.
I digress.
I got a seat, and after sitting down dug through my large bag that carried a plethra of activities for my ride. I had my Harry Potter book, my Ipod, a random magazine about breast imaging, and of course, my cell phone. I decided upon my Potter book. I started reading and settled into the ride, realizing that it was actually quite nice to be on the train. Not too crowded, not too loud. Nobody felt the need to chat loudly on their cell phone,or share their music with you that you couldn't quite hear anyway, so it was just static noise.
I got off the train at the appropriate stop, but not before digging out my IPOD for the second part of the journey.I had to get on a bus to transport me to my next destination. I looked at my cell phone for the time and noted that I had about 35 minutes to make it to work, and I still hadnt eaten breakfast nor had my second cup of coffee.
About 50 high school students exited the train about the time I did. A large Lacrosse stick nearly missed my head, and the girls were in a thick click not easy to navigate around. I made it out the doors, and stopped, as quickly as the clique of girls ahead stopped. We all looked, not sure what to do.
A woman, maybe in her 60s, stood right outside the exit. Hands folded across her thin blue jacket, chin forward and up. Her eyes bugged out, open wide, as if she misplaced her thyroid medication and hadnt taken it for a few months.
And she didnt blink.
We watched, looked at each other,confused. Not sure what whe should do, but my first instict was to clap my hands really loudly in front of her. We all looked at each other again, uncomfortably. No movement, no blinking. She was clearly catatonic.
The crowd surged forward. we moved away.
We did nothing, there was nothing for us to do because she was doing nothing.
Her stillness jolted our morning, stopped us from the hustle and bustle of trying to transfer from the train to the bus. She was an anomaly in a pretty routine morning.

Public Toilet humiliation

On Marathon Weekend, I got the great idea to go into Boston for Lunch, specifically to the California Pizza Kitchen. It seemed like a good idea at the time, it was bright, crisp and beautful out, and in the midst of a long weekend.
We took the train in, enjoying the ride, until we hit the Prudential center, where we got off, and planted ourselves in the middle of a large, nylon outfitted mass.
"Why do runners feel they need to wear their running outfits everywhere?" My friend asked.
"Not sure, maybe they are comfortable" I replied
"My scrubs are comfy, I don't wear them everywhere" she said.
Good point.
we made our way through the crowd and to the Pizza kitchen. Now, my general knowledge of carbohydrate, protein and fat content of food didnt translate to the real world. Where would people go to carb load? The CPK seemed to be the appropriate spot. We put our name on the list and proceeded to wait.
"I have never gotten the urge to run 26.2 miles." my friend observed.
"Me neither" I said, but thinking it would be pretty cool to do it. Our friend, a mother of 5, was running.
We finally got settled at our table, ordered and proceeded to eat. Of course, knowing my 5 year old with incredibly regular elimination habits, he had to go to the bathroom, and there was a line.
I grabbled my purse and took him in. There were two stalls and about 5 people waiting. We went in, he did his thing. I realized I had to use the bathroom and use a feminine hygeine product. Not knowing what to do, I said, "Go outside of the stall, stand right in front and dont move. I can see your legs. I have to go to the bathroom."
He did. He danced around a bit, probably looking at what was around him. He finally yelled out.
"Hey mom, when you are done with the tube thing, you can throw it in the trash right here."
The entire bathroom erupted in laughter.
Of course, I was mortified.