Let's just say I do the grocery shopping and have for all 23 years of our married life. The other day we were out running errands and I decided to stop for my weekly grocery trip before heading home.
"Get on the scale! Get on the scale" as he tries to grab my purse from my arm.
Here in Florida the local grocery chain has a big commercial scale by the door in every store. It can be entertaining to watch and listen to people who get on and off it. They're either smiling or swearing.
"No! I need to get some walking in before I do that. The grocery store etiquette is to weigh on the way out."
"Linda, just get on the scale." I do and I'm surprised by the number. It's low and I'm fully dressed with shoes on. "Hey. You're not doing too badly." The number surprised him too. I guess that diet we're no longer on is working pretty well.
Richard insists on pushing the cart and heads straight for the soda and snack aisle. I decide it's useless to tell him that we have to start at one end of the store and go down each aisle in order.
"Look they have coupons for diet coke." Richard loves diet coke. We stock up when it's on sale. He figures how much a two liter bottle will cost with the coupon. It's in the budget. He rips ALL the store coupons from the pad and starts to load up the cart.
"You can't take all the coupons. Leave some for other people." I shouldn't be shocked by this behavior. It's typical Richard.
"Why?" he says innocently.
"It's grocery store etiquette. Leave some for other people. You're not the only one who needs a bargain these days."
He counts off some coupons and puts the rest back on the shelf.
Now it's time to check out. Richard goes in the line first, then the cart, then me. There's another customer in front of us making her purchase. Richard empties the cart and moves up next to the woman. I try to wave him back because I can see her giving him a dirty look.
"Don't crowd the person in front of you." I talk softly so the woman can't hear me.
"What?" Like a typical man, he feigns deafness when it suits him.
I speak louder. "Don't crowd the person in front of you."
"Why not?"
"It's not proper grocery store etiquette."
"I'm never coming here with you again. Too many rules."
I say to myself, 'Thank goodness'. I hope he's busy when my grocery trip comes around next week.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Sunday, September 20, 2009
An Announcement
Richard announced this morning that we are officially out of pancakes!! I ate the last pair for breakfast this morning. Mixed with strawberries, bananas and a little syrup, I must admit, they were to die for.
I'll keep you posted when the next batch arrives!!
I'll keep you posted when the next batch arrives!!
Saturday, September 19, 2009
The Miracle of Advertising
I toyed with the idea of blogging for a long time. I thought it would be difficult to get set up and going. And what would I blog about?? It turns out there are a multitude of things in my life worth blogging about right under my nose.
When I set up the blog I was asked if I wanted to show Google ads and 'monetize' my blog. Since I'm unemployed any possible way to make some extra money is a no brainer. I said yes. Now mind you, in two months I've made a whole penny from these ads. I'm grateful my friend Mr. Obama continues to send my unemployment check so I can pay the bills.
These ads however fascinate me. What pops up changes as my blog posts change to fit with my topic. I've been studying how that works. Some are obvious. For the post, 'A Bit About Ginger', the ads were for puppy training pads and obedience school. I needed those things three years ago! For 'Are We Thin Yet?', I was tempted to buy Hoodia or a book on foods to get rid of belly fat. The diet was short lived so I don't need those things anymore either.
The post that really interested me however was 'Louie the Gimp'. What words in that post generated the ads for Clorox bleach and Hefty trash bags? Was it 'cement shoes' or the phrase 'swim with the fishes'? If Louie were in the business of killing someone, would he stop and look on the Internet for where to buy the supplies to clean up the crime scene? I don't think so. I've still only made a penny! Obviously he has enough experience to not get caught and doesn't need my help.
Do you think they'll send me a check for that penny?? Every little bit helps these days.
When I set up the blog I was asked if I wanted to show Google ads and 'monetize' my blog. Since I'm unemployed any possible way to make some extra money is a no brainer. I said yes. Now mind you, in two months I've made a whole penny from these ads. I'm grateful my friend Mr. Obama continues to send my unemployment check so I can pay the bills.
These ads however fascinate me. What pops up changes as my blog posts change to fit with my topic. I've been studying how that works. Some are obvious. For the post, 'A Bit About Ginger', the ads were for puppy training pads and obedience school. I needed those things three years ago! For 'Are We Thin Yet?', I was tempted to buy Hoodia or a book on foods to get rid of belly fat. The diet was short lived so I don't need those things anymore either.
The post that really interested me however was 'Louie the Gimp'. What words in that post generated the ads for Clorox bleach and Hefty trash bags? Was it 'cement shoes' or the phrase 'swim with the fishes'? If Louie were in the business of killing someone, would he stop and look on the Internet for where to buy the supplies to clean up the crime scene? I don't think so. I've still only made a penny! Obviously he has enough experience to not get caught and doesn't need my help.
Do you think they'll send me a check for that penny?? Every little bit helps these days.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Casey at the Spittoon
Much to his surprise, Richard has turned into a baseball fan. He's hooked on the Tampa Bay Rays. Over the course of the summer he's learned all the players names. Garzo, Peena, Zober,Upter and Longo. For those of you who follow the Rays, you'll know who he's talking about. Mispronouncing words and names is par for the course around here. I'm lucky that after 22 years of marriage he can say 'Linda'. I'm used to doing the translation.
I come from a long line of baseball fans. My grandparents listened to Detroit Tiger games on the radio. My father took us to the ball park no matter what city we were living in at the time. Richard was into swimming as a child and never played baseball. He had a big learning curve. I had to explain the baseball lingo like full count, double play and the seventh inning stretch. Richard is a quick learner however. He talks baseball like a pro now. Now when he's watching a game, I get some quiet time to myself, so I want to encourage his interest in it as much as possible.
There are still some things he can't figure out and I don't know the answer. Like what do those hand signals the catcher gives to the pitcher mean? And why does the camera man have to give us a close up of his crotch while he's doing it?
"Why do they have to spit all the time?" I asked. It was grossing me out so much spitting in between pitches. Home plate must be slippery by the end of the game.
"Do you think they ever forget where they are and spit in the house?" replied Richard.
"Why don't you email that question to 'Ask the Rays' and see what they say?"
I'd love to know. Wouldn't you?
I come from a long line of baseball fans. My grandparents listened to Detroit Tiger games on the radio. My father took us to the ball park no matter what city we were living in at the time. Richard was into swimming as a child and never played baseball. He had a big learning curve. I had to explain the baseball lingo like full count, double play and the seventh inning stretch. Richard is a quick learner however. He talks baseball like a pro now. Now when he's watching a game, I get some quiet time to myself, so I want to encourage his interest in it as much as possible.
There are still some things he can't figure out and I don't know the answer. Like what do those hand signals the catcher gives to the pitcher mean? And why does the camera man have to give us a close up of his crotch while he's doing it?
"Why do they have to spit all the time?" I asked. It was grossing me out so much spitting in between pitches. Home plate must be slippery by the end of the game.
"Do you think they ever forget where they are and spit in the house?" replied Richard.
"Why don't you email that question to 'Ask the Rays' and see what they say?"
I'd love to know. Wouldn't you?
Saturday, September 5, 2009
A Day at the Doggie Spa
Yesterday was a big day for Ginger. I made her an appointment at the spa. Her scraggly brown fur curled up over her collar. Hair grew out between her toes and she'd permanently scarred visitors to our home with her sharp nails. Plus she'd been terrorizing the construction workers building the house next door. She was being just a little over protective. It was time for some pampering!
A trip to the doggie spa starts with a ride in the car which is always exciting. Ginger loves to stick her little nose out the window. We can't open the window very far. She's been known to jump out if given the chance. Trust me, Marley can't hold a candle to Ginger!! Whatever he did, Ginger can do better! We dropped her off without incident, thank goodness.
Richard went to pick her up after a couple hours. He opened the back door to let her in the house. She paused for a second to look for me, tried to get traction on the tile floor, then scooted full force across the room at break neck speed. I turned my head waiting for the bundle of love that was headed my way. Ginger jumped into my lap, every inch of her body in motion, slobbering kisses all over my face.
"Look at me, Mommy! Look at me!" she said to me.
"You're so pretty." I told her over and over. It is so funny how dogs know when they've done something special.
She hopped down, ran about five laps around the house and settled in her favorite spot on the sofa.
She spent the rest of the day there. At bedtime, she curled up in the crook of my arm and fell sound asleep. Gorgeous Ginger was pooped. All that girlie maintenance is exhausting, even for a dog.
A trip to the doggie spa starts with a ride in the car which is always exciting. Ginger loves to stick her little nose out the window. We can't open the window very far. She's been known to jump out if given the chance. Trust me, Marley can't hold a candle to Ginger!! Whatever he did, Ginger can do better! We dropped her off without incident, thank goodness.
Richard went to pick her up after a couple hours. He opened the back door to let her in the house. She paused for a second to look for me, tried to get traction on the tile floor, then scooted full force across the room at break neck speed. I turned my head waiting for the bundle of love that was headed my way. Ginger jumped into my lap, every inch of her body in motion, slobbering kisses all over my face.
"Look at me, Mommy! Look at me!" she said to me.
"You're so pretty." I told her over and over. It is so funny how dogs know when they've done something special.
She hopped down, ran about five laps around the house and settled in her favorite spot on the sofa.
She spent the rest of the day there. At bedtime, she curled up in the crook of my arm and fell sound asleep. Gorgeous Ginger was pooped. All that girlie maintenance is exhausting, even for a dog.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Are We Thin Yet?
"We're going on a diet." Richard announced. "And it's not going to be any fun living here. I'm going to be very strict with you."
I have to admit we'd both gotten a little fat and happy lately. The novelty of not working wore off and we'd settled into a more sedentary routine. As a writer, it's easy to sit all day when your muse is working in overdrive. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.
I headed off to the grocery store and stocked up on all the makings of a wonderful salad. Frozen veggies stuffed the shelves of my freezer. I loaded up on fish and we were ready to embark on our new, thinner selves.
Richard brought the bathroom scale out of its retirement in the closet and put it in the bedroom. On the dresser was a paper and pen. One column for Linda, one for Richard with the dates down the side. I was instructed to weigh myself every single morning and write it down. We both recorded our weight religiously. We were on the road to thinness.
We kept up our plan for about a week until we had to go to Wal-Mart.
"Can we have lunch at McDonald's?" Richard begged.
"There's nothing on your diet on the menu there." I was trying to keep us on the straight and narrow.
"I know, but I'm dying for a hamburger."
"OK, get me a chicken sandwich and some fries." The mention of a hamburger perked up my appetite.
McDonald's never tasted so good.
As the days went on we ate less and less of the salad fixings and even less of the fruit in the bowl on the kitchen counter. Richard declared he was tired of bunny food.
Yesterday was his day to clean the house. After he finished, the scale was missing from the bedroom and the pen and paper had mysteriously disappeared.
I asked the expected question.
"Are we not on diets anymore?"
I have to admit we'd both gotten a little fat and happy lately. The novelty of not working wore off and we'd settled into a more sedentary routine. As a writer, it's easy to sit all day when your muse is working in overdrive. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.
I headed off to the grocery store and stocked up on all the makings of a wonderful salad. Frozen veggies stuffed the shelves of my freezer. I loaded up on fish and we were ready to embark on our new, thinner selves.
Richard brought the bathroom scale out of its retirement in the closet and put it in the bedroom. On the dresser was a paper and pen. One column for Linda, one for Richard with the dates down the side. I was instructed to weigh myself every single morning and write it down. We both recorded our weight religiously. We were on the road to thinness.
We kept up our plan for about a week until we had to go to Wal-Mart.
"Can we have lunch at McDonald's?" Richard begged.
"There's nothing on your diet on the menu there." I was trying to keep us on the straight and narrow.
"I know, but I'm dying for a hamburger."
"OK, get me a chicken sandwich and some fries." The mention of a hamburger perked up my appetite.
McDonald's never tasted so good.
As the days went on we ate less and less of the salad fixings and even less of the fruit in the bowl on the kitchen counter. Richard declared he was tired of bunny food.
Yesterday was his day to clean the house. After he finished, the scale was missing from the bedroom and the pen and paper had mysteriously disappeared.
I asked the expected question.
"Are we not on diets anymore?"
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