Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Lack of color
I had this whole color combo in my head and the colors offered by blogger are not matching up with the ones in my head. The shades are different. I hate when reality is different from what's in my head. It's such a bummer.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Sex Cheques
This is one of my absolute favorites! (1/1/07)
I can't believe I never posted this blog! I just found it in my drafts and died laughing. Maybe i was too embarrassed to post it, but that was a few years back...what the hell.
OK FINE. I'll blog about the sex cheques, but only because Jocelyn threatened to blog about it if I didn't. So here comes the lamest story of your week. Are you ready?
I seem to have a problem with my hearing lately. I ran into an old friend of mine (but it didn't hurt!) named Tim at college group. Haven't seen this guy in years so we caught each other up to speed on our lives. He's in a band with some other people I know. Then he hands me their CD and convinced me I'd like it. Realizing I had no cash on me, I asked him, "...do you take Visa?" His reply was "No, but I take CHEQUES". What I heard was "no, but I take SEX." I gave a hard shocked laugh and kind of shoved him. He had that "what the heck" expression on his face....it was all really funny. I didn't find out until later from Laura that he said "cheques" which actually makes SO much more sense.
I think Jesus needs to renew my dirty little mind cause all I hear is "sex sex sex" pouring out of people's mouths. Yikes!
The end. Please don't think less of me.
I can't believe I never posted this blog! I just found it in my drafts and died laughing. Maybe i was too embarrassed to post it, but that was a few years back...what the hell.
OK FINE. I'll blog about the sex cheques, but only because Jocelyn threatened to blog about it if I didn't. So here comes the lamest story of your week. Are you ready?
I seem to have a problem with my hearing lately. I ran into an old friend of mine (but it didn't hurt!) named Tim at college group. Haven't seen this guy in years so we caught each other up to speed on our lives. He's in a band with some other people I know. Then he hands me their CD and convinced me I'd like it. Realizing I had no cash on me, I asked him, "...do you take Visa?" His reply was "No, but I take CHEQUES". What I heard was "no, but I take SEX." I gave a hard shocked laugh and kind of shoved him. He had that "what the heck" expression on his face....it was all really funny. I didn't find out until later from Laura that he said "cheques" which actually makes SO much more sense.
I think Jesus needs to renew my dirty little mind cause all I hear is "sex sex sex" pouring out of people's mouths. Yikes!
The end. Please don't think less of me.
Straight Trippin'
9/28/07
I fell off my porch again and twisted my ankle. This is becoming a bi-annual event for me. Once in the spring, and naturally, once in the fall. Traditionally, I fall on my right knee, split it open and tear through whatever pants I'm wearing. No joke, I have at least 5 pairs of pants with holes in the right knee...all attributed to these falls. Last time this happened, I was running off to hang out with Al who was waiting by his car. He looked up to see me gracefully skipping off the porch then WHAM, I splattered on the pavement. At first I laughed out of pure shock, then started crying when I realized I couldn't stand up. Through my blurry eyes I see Al running towards me and I knew he'd pick me up. But before he did, he had to re-enacted my incredible fall which was full on amusing and hilarious. What a guy...I think he busted his elbow up in the act. Hahaha!!!!!!
This time, I was walking slowly out the door to leave for work. With a fuji apple in one hand, hard boiled egg in the other and once again I ate it. I lost my egg but I managed to save my apple. Whew...love those fuji apples. My mom comes out IN HER ROBE and starts crying and carrying on. I don't remember this, but she tells me all I said was,"we've got to get rid of that porch!!!!!" Damn porch.
My ankle is sprained, and it's possible I tore a ligament, but I'm still walking on it. My knee is what's really killing me though. It's taking FOR-EVER to heal. I put some kind of onion healing ointment on it (whole foods baby!) which is meant to keep the wound from scarring, therefore ensuring my mission to have sexy knees.
So today, I'm walking...I'm walking. I have this empty plastic film container in my hand and I'm skipping along and the film box is swinging back and forth. BAM, it bonks right into my knee. My eyes crossed. I couldn't even breathe it hurt SO BAD! I hiked up my pants to check out the damage, but to my surprise the scabbing didn't bust open. It IS healing. Healing more every day, but if I bang something against it it's gonna hurt like hell. It might hurt all day, but that doesn't obliterate all the healing that's taken place. After that incident, anything jetting out in the least out would jump out and attack my knee. Or so it seemed...
I'm healing. Today I'm so happy to hurt less than the day before. I'm dancing in my freedom, stepping into new revelations and shedding my old skin. I feel alive, especially when I bonk into you and know that even though it hurts like hell...I'm healing over.
I fell off my porch again and twisted my ankle. This is becoming a bi-annual event for me. Once in the spring, and naturally, once in the fall. Traditionally, I fall on my right knee, split it open and tear through whatever pants I'm wearing. No joke, I have at least 5 pairs of pants with holes in the right knee...all attributed to these falls. Last time this happened, I was running off to hang out with Al who was waiting by his car. He looked up to see me gracefully skipping off the porch then WHAM, I splattered on the pavement. At first I laughed out of pure shock, then started crying when I realized I couldn't stand up. Through my blurry eyes I see Al running towards me and I knew he'd pick me up. But before he did, he had to re-enacted my incredible fall which was full on amusing and hilarious. What a guy...I think he busted his elbow up in the act. Hahaha!!!!!!
This time, I was walking slowly out the door to leave for work. With a fuji apple in one hand, hard boiled egg in the other and once again I ate it. I lost my egg but I managed to save my apple. Whew...love those fuji apples. My mom comes out IN HER ROBE and starts crying and carrying on. I don't remember this, but she tells me all I said was,"we've got to get rid of that porch!!!!!" Damn porch.
My ankle is sprained, and it's possible I tore a ligament, but I'm still walking on it. My knee is what's really killing me though. It's taking FOR-EVER to heal. I put some kind of onion healing ointment on it (whole foods baby!) which is meant to keep the wound from scarring, therefore ensuring my mission to have sexy knees.
So today, I'm walking...I'm walking. I have this empty plastic film container in my hand and I'm skipping along and the film box is swinging back and forth. BAM, it bonks right into my knee. My eyes crossed. I couldn't even breathe it hurt SO BAD! I hiked up my pants to check out the damage, but to my surprise the scabbing didn't bust open. It IS healing. Healing more every day, but if I bang something against it it's gonna hurt like hell. It might hurt all day, but that doesn't obliterate all the healing that's taken place. After that incident, anything jetting out in the least out would jump out and attack my knee. Or so it seemed...
I'm healing. Today I'm so happy to hurt less than the day before. I'm dancing in my freedom, stepping into new revelations and shedding my old skin. I feel alive, especially when I bonk into you and know that even though it hurts like hell...I'm healing over.
Married to Amazement
10/2/07There's an old Monastery tucked away in the hills of Danville that's open to the public. I've lived in the Bay area my whole life and only just recently discovered it. Now that I have, it's become a place I can run to for a little solitude and rest. I sit down on my bench, close my eyes and listen to the sound of leaves falling and echoing through the canyon below me. Most times I end up reading a good book or writing, but today I was thirsty for adventure.
I decided to test out my little resilient ankle and explore the trails around the Monastery. I hiked up and down old staircases embedded into the ground and shot a bunch of photos. I just kept looping in and out up and down these trails when it suddenly occurred to me that I could get lost. Secretly, I kind of wanted to get lost and spend the afternoon totally unaware and unconcerned with what time it was. I wanted to get my fill of whatever it is I'm longing for. I strolled back to my car and put my camera away, which I'm kicking myself for now. I wanted my hands free for this particular steep and narrow trail I was about to take. It's not really that steep, but given my tendency to trip over air, I played it safe and stared at my feet the whole way down. When the ground evened out I lifted my head and froze solid. A deer with giant white antlers crowned on his head was pacing me 10 feet to my left. I stood there with my mouth wide open as he walked on ahead of me almost as if he didn't see me. I carefully continued walking just a few steps behind him when he stopped. Then I stopped. He looked over his shoulder and we just stared at each other for t
he longest time. He looked at me as though he was amused at my wonder. I felt totally and utterly happy to meet this dear with giant white antlers. The sight of him staring back at me made me want to cry. I suddenly became very aware of how beautiful this life is, and that I can't take one moment for granted."When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms."
When death comes-Mary Oliver
25 Pounds of Brown Sugar
2/19/08
There's this scene from Anne of Green Gables where Mathew Cuthford goes into town to buy a dress for his daughter Anne. This is no ordinary dress, it's Anne's dream dress with the most exquisite puffed sleeves. Mathew sees the dress in the window, then walks up to the lady at the counter.
He can't bring himself to say what it is he really needs, so he asks for something else, anything else. He asks for the things he doesn'tneed instead. He's just buying time to work up the courage. If you've seen this movie a million times like I have you absolutley adore this man. Here's the conversation that takes place in the old general store.
"Yeah uh.... I was wondering if you had uh...a rake?"
"Well now, we normally don't carry rakes in the winter, but we might have one in back"
She comes back with a rake in her hands.
"Well look at that, the very last one! Will this be all Mr. Cuthfort?"
"Well actually, uh....
Well if it's not too much trouble..."
((((Awkward stalling))))
"SUGAR." He says at last.
"Sugar? Well, how much would you like?"
"OH well, uh would 25 pounds be enough?"
"Yes Mr. Cuthford I think 25 pounds is more than enough sugar."
Seconds later she returns with the most enormous sack of sugar and plops it as his feet.
Mathew exhales then leans in close to her ear....
"I need a dress...for Anne! Puffed sleeves!" He whispers.
"Well for goodness sakes! Why didn't you just say so in the first place?!?!"
I basically had that exact conversation with a friend tonight. What I really wanted to say, I couldn't say. Instead, I asked for 25 pounds of freakin' brown sugar. Of course I don't need brown sugar. But I panicked and had to make something up. Oh God, I prayed, I hope he doesn't see right through this. Awesome, I think he bought it. I was so convincing I almost had myself fooled. Yes, I'm that good.
Until tonight I've never understood why Mathew couldn't just spit it out. He was embarrased to admit his need. Why do we find it embarrasing to admit our needs? Our needs aren't silly they are great. I have this big massive puffed sleeve type need that sooner or later needs to be come out. If I don't say it, I'm going to end up with 25 pounds of brown sugar and then where will I be?
Up $*!# creek, that's where!
There's this scene from Anne of Green Gables where Mathew Cuthford goes into town to buy a dress for his daughter Anne. This is no ordinary dress, it's Anne's dream dress with the most exquisite puffed sleeves. Mathew sees the dress in the window, then walks up to the lady at the counter.
He can't bring himself to say what it is he really needs, so he asks for something else, anything else. He asks for the things he doesn'tneed instead. He's just buying time to work up the courage. If you've seen this movie a million times like I have you absolutley adore this man. Here's the conversation that takes place in the old general store.
"Yeah uh.... I was wondering if you had uh...a rake?"
"Well now, we normally don't carry rakes in the winter, but we might have one in back"
She comes back with a rake in her hands.
"Well look at that, the very last one! Will this be all Mr. Cuthfort?"
"Well actually, uh....
Well if it's not too much trouble..."
((((Awkward stalling))))
"SUGAR." He says at last.
"Sugar? Well, how much would you like?"
"OH well, uh would 25 pounds be enough?"
"Yes Mr. Cuthford I think 25 pounds is more than enough sugar."
Seconds later she returns with the most enormous sack of sugar and plops it as his feet.
Mathew exhales then leans in close to her ear....
"I need a dress...for Anne! Puffed sleeves!" He whispers.
"Well for goodness sakes! Why didn't you just say so in the first place?!?!"
I basically had that exact conversation with a friend tonight. What I really wanted to say, I couldn't say. Instead, I asked for 25 pounds of freakin' brown sugar. Of course I don't need brown sugar. But I panicked and had to make something up. Oh God, I prayed, I hope he doesn't see right through this. Awesome, I think he bought it. I was so convincing I almost had myself fooled. Yes, I'm that good.
Until tonight I've never understood why Mathew couldn't just spit it out. He was embarrased to admit his need. Why do we find it embarrasing to admit our needs? Our needs aren't silly they are great. I have this big massive puffed sleeve type need that sooner or later needs to be come out. If I don't say it, I'm going to end up with 25 pounds of brown sugar and then where will I be?
Up $*!# creek, that's where!
Top Banana -
4/12/08
There is but one microwave in the hospital cafeteria. It's about 30 years old and sounds as though it’s preparing for liftoff. I was heading there to heat up my PF Chang leftovers. Hurray, I think to myself, no one else is using it! But as I walk up, a house- keeping guy is pulling leftovers from his hospital cooler bag.
"You can go first," he says "this will take five minutes to heat up."
"Oh no, go ahead. You were here first." Mine would take the same amount of time anyway. I placed my Pyrex container on the table and ran off to grab a fork.
When I returned with my fork, the man's food was still nuking but he had taken off. I smiled at Bianca who was sitting at a nearby table, then stirred my veggies and brown rice.
"Hey Sarah, where'd you get your cooler bag?" Bianca leans back casually in her chair and motions to the cooler bag in front of me. I proudly glance at my bag and pick it up.
"OH! They were giving these away to all the employees last year."
"I like it! I want one!" She wines.
I swung the bag’s strap back and forth on my finger, tantalizing her.
"I'll trade you your purple hoodie for my bag…” I said in a singsong voice.
“Hahahahahaha!”
"I'm serious."
You see; I've secretly coveted her eggplant purple hoodie since I laid eyes on it. She’s wearing it right now, so it would be real easy to trade.
I unzip my bag to see a shiny yellow banana inside. What’s this?
Gosh, I don't remember packing a banana. When did I do that? I’m starving, so I unpeel the banana and take a bite. It's good. This is the sweetest banana I've tasted in my whole life, hands down. My mouth is watering; my eyes are closing in sheer delight. Suddenly the house- keeping guy walks up and promptly takes my lunch bag over to his seat. My eyes widen and I freeze.
Oh crap. That wasn't my lunch bag. Come to think of it, I didn't even bring my lunch bag today! Oh NO! This isn't my banana! With a full mouth I turn to him and yell, "I ate your banana!" Oh shoot, Oh shoot! I made a beeline for the fruit bowl and tried to find the prettiest banana there was, but they paled in comparison to his. "Here, I'm so sorry". I shamefully hand him a green inferior banana. He’s gaping at me with his mouth wide open. Is he furious, or confused? I attempt to explain myself. "I thought it was mine! I have a lunch bag just like this. It's Bianca's fault for making me think it was mine!” I rambled on for about another minute then stuffed the rest of the banana in my mouth.
Bianca, laughing hysterically in her chair is now tantalizing me with her unattainable purple hoodie.
There is but one microwave in the hospital cafeteria. It's about 30 years old and sounds as though it’s preparing for liftoff. I was heading there to heat up my PF Chang leftovers. Hurray, I think to myself, no one else is using it! But as I walk up, a house- keeping guy is pulling leftovers from his hospital cooler bag.
"You can go first," he says "this will take five minutes to heat up."
"Oh no, go ahead. You were here first." Mine would take the same amount of time anyway. I placed my Pyrex container on the table and ran off to grab a fork.
When I returned with my fork, the man's food was still nuking but he had taken off. I smiled at Bianca who was sitting at a nearby table, then stirred my veggies and brown rice.
"Hey Sarah, where'd you get your cooler bag?" Bianca leans back casually in her chair and motions to the cooler bag in front of me. I proudly glance at my bag and pick it up.
"OH! They were giving these away to all the employees last year."
"I like it! I want one!" She wines.
I swung the bag’s strap back and forth on my finger, tantalizing her.
"I'll trade you your purple hoodie for my bag…” I said in a singsong voice.
“Hahahahahaha!”
"I'm serious."
You see; I've secretly coveted her eggplant purple hoodie since I laid eyes on it. She’s wearing it right now, so it would be real easy to trade.
I unzip my bag to see a shiny yellow banana inside. What’s this?
Gosh, I don't remember packing a banana. When did I do that? I’m starving, so I unpeel the banana and take a bite. It's good. This is the sweetest banana I've tasted in my whole life, hands down. My mouth is watering; my eyes are closing in sheer delight. Suddenly the house- keeping guy walks up and promptly takes my lunch bag over to his seat. My eyes widen and I freeze.
Oh crap. That wasn't my lunch bag. Come to think of it, I didn't even bring my lunch bag today! Oh NO! This isn't my banana! With a full mouth I turn to him and yell, "I ate your banana!" Oh shoot, Oh shoot! I made a beeline for the fruit bowl and tried to find the prettiest banana there was, but they paled in comparison to his. "Here, I'm so sorry". I shamefully hand him a green inferior banana. He’s gaping at me with his mouth wide open. Is he furious, or confused? I attempt to explain myself. "I thought it was mine! I have a lunch bag just like this. It's Bianca's fault for making me think it was mine!” I rambled on for about another minute then stuffed the rest of the banana in my mouth.
Bianca, laughing hysterically in her chair is now tantalizing me with her unattainable purple hoodie.
9/08
I am not dyslexic! I'll admit I'm an atrocious speller, but that's completely different. For crying out loud, I was home schooled so what do you expect?
Even math teachers deserve grace. I'll give her grace, but I don't have to like her. She needs to be sensitive to my mathaphobia. I was sitting there watching her grade my test slashing lines all over the place. She nearly gave me a brain aneurysm.
I flew out of my chair when she called my name . I stood before her holding my breath, awaiting my sentance. "You passed" She said, so I let out my breath and sat down next to her. Then she proceeded to ask me if I was dyslexic. No, I said. Not that I know of, I said. But thanks for putting the thought in my head and giving me a complex, I said. Only I didn't say that last part out loud. So I got overwhelmed and divided a fraction wrong. I divided the denominator by the numerator. But who hasn't?
I just wanted to take an eraser from the chalkboard and rub it all over her face.
But ya know what? She's making me stronger. I'll prove it to myself that I can kick algebra's ass!
Even math teachers deserve grace. I'll give her grace, but I don't have to like her. She needs to be sensitive to my mathaphobia. I was sitting there watching her grade my test slashing lines all over the place. She nearly gave me a brain aneurysm.
I flew out of my chair when she called my name . I stood before her holding my breath, awaiting my sentance. "You passed" She said, so I let out my breath and sat down next to her. Then she proceeded to ask me if I was dyslexic. No, I said. Not that I know of, I said. But thanks for putting the thought in my head and giving me a complex, I said. Only I didn't say that last part out loud. So I got overwhelmed and divided a fraction wrong. I divided the denominator by the numerator. But who hasn't?
I just wanted to take an eraser from the chalkboard and rub it all over her face.
But ya know what? She's making me stronger. I'll prove it to myself that I can kick algebra's ass!
1/7/07 "Spilled Milk"
I raised the fork to my mouth and opened wide to accommodate the perfectly balanced bite of salad. Lettuce, tomato, chicken, feta cheese and cucumber all creatively smooshed together and dangling off my fork. I had to cock my head to the side just to fit everything in. That's how food is meant to be devoured. Big bites. The kind that you have to lean into quickly so you don't drop it on your shirt. I'm famous for dropping things on my shirt. I'm not at all ashamed to admit that I'm a spiller. I've always been a spiller, and I probably always will be.
If I had a dime for every time I spilled something as a kid I'd be a freakin' millionaire. I'm not kidding. A glass could be sitting 5 feet away from me, and somehow I'd still manage to knock it over. It was truly amazing. "Uh-oh", I'd say, and look up at my father with big baby doll eyes. He'd give me the look while breathing heavily through his nostrils, disappointment oozing from every pore in his body. I'd close my eyes, bite my lip and get the paper towels. You'd think the guy would shrug it off because it happened ALL THE TIME. You'd think I'd get used to his reaction and shrug it off, but it broke my heart. I cried. Every time I spilled something my heart broke and I'd hide my tears while I cleaned it up. My face burned with embarrassment as he watched me wipe my mess. I remember feeling so frustrated. I tried so damn hard not to knock stuff over, but the harder I tried the more I failed. Maybe he thought I was doing it on purpose just to piss him off. All I wanted was to have my dad smile at me all the time. I wanted him to say, "it's ok darlin, I'm not mad at you." If my dad was upset with me, my world was shattered. I'm not just being dramatic here either. He had the most influence over my heart as a kid.
Then one day, something funny happened. He was upset at me for something, and we weren't speaking. I'm guessing I was around 12 because I had that spunky pre-teen attitude. He was at the sink rinsing dishes with his back to me. I opened the fridge, grabbed the grape smucker's jelly jar and somehow smashed the bottom of the glass jar against the metal door handle.I stood back and watched all the jelly plop out on our kitchen floor. I watched my dad whip his head around to see the mess on the floor, the look on my face, and broken jar still in my hand. As soon as he turned around to face the sink I bursted out in laughter. The sound of the jelly hitting the floor was too much to take. It sounded like something out of a cartoon. I laughed even harder trying to figure out how these freak accidents happened to me. I felt happy all over from head to toe as I stood there laughing, and three seconds later my sister came over and nervously laughed along with me. She must have thought I'd gone crazy. Dad just ignored us both, but I didn't care anymore. I chose not to care. Caring if he was annoyed with me would just suck the fun right out of life, and I couldn't let that happen. Something else besides the jelly jar broke that day. His power to make me happy or sad ended, and then I got fiesty.
I've actually brought this up with my dad, and he's apologized for his reactions. He's not even sure why he got so upset, but he knows he shouldn't have. Besides, since he's getting older, he's the one spilling stuff on himself. I just close my eyes and smile at the irony of how things turn out.
The end
If I had a dime for every time I spilled something as a kid I'd be a freakin' millionaire. I'm not kidding. A glass could be sitting 5 feet away from me, and somehow I'd still manage to knock it over. It was truly amazing. "Uh-oh", I'd say, and look up at my father with big baby doll eyes. He'd give me the look while breathing heavily through his nostrils, disappointment oozing from every pore in his body. I'd close my eyes, bite my lip and get the paper towels. You'd think the guy would shrug it off because it happened ALL THE TIME. You'd think I'd get used to his reaction and shrug it off, but it broke my heart. I cried. Every time I spilled something my heart broke and I'd hide my tears while I cleaned it up. My face burned with embarrassment as he watched me wipe my mess. I remember feeling so frustrated. I tried so damn hard not to knock stuff over, but the harder I tried the more I failed. Maybe he thought I was doing it on purpose just to piss him off. All I wanted was to have my dad smile at me all the time. I wanted him to say, "it's ok darlin, I'm not mad at you." If my dad was upset with me, my world was shattered. I'm not just being dramatic here either. He had the most influence over my heart as a kid.
Then one day, something funny happened. He was upset at me for something, and we weren't speaking. I'm guessing I was around 12 because I had that spunky pre-teen attitude. He was at the sink rinsing dishes with his back to me. I opened the fridge, grabbed the grape smucker's jelly jar and somehow smashed the bottom of the glass jar against the metal door handle.I stood back and watched all the jelly plop out on our kitchen floor. I watched my dad whip his head around to see the mess on the floor, the look on my face, and broken jar still in my hand. As soon as he turned around to face the sink I bursted out in laughter. The sound of the jelly hitting the floor was too much to take. It sounded like something out of a cartoon. I laughed even harder trying to figure out how these freak accidents happened to me. I felt happy all over from head to toe as I stood there laughing, and three seconds later my sister came over and nervously laughed along with me. She must have thought I'd gone crazy. Dad just ignored us both, but I didn't care anymore. I chose not to care. Caring if he was annoyed with me would just suck the fun right out of life, and I couldn't let that happen. Something else besides the jelly jar broke that day. His power to make me happy or sad ended, and then I got fiesty.
I've actually brought this up with my dad, and he's apologized for his reactions. He's not even sure why he got so upset, but he knows he shouldn't have. Besides, since he's getting older, he's the one spilling stuff on himself. I just close my eyes and smile at the irony of how things turn out.
The end
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Ironic
I'm about to enjoy my cup of coffee. Half coffee, half steamed vanilla soy milk= a soy misto. It's my all time favorite coffee drink, and it's so simple to make. I open the fridge...
Shoot! No soy milk? I forgot that I used the rest of it yesterday. What to do? That almond milk has been there since last year, but maybe it ages well? Nope, it smells like play-Doh, so I put it back in the fridge. "Huff!" I drop my arms towards floor. It's 7:34 in the morning, and I have to leave for class at 8. Safeway is just around the corner. They have those self-check out stands, the ones that replace people. I'm super fast at those. I could be out of there in 5 minutes, 3 if I stay focused.
I throw on my slippers and jacket, then rev up my Mazda. "Please don't make that noise. Please, please, please! I promise I'll get that belt fixed if you'll stop making that high pitched screeching noise." It's getting worse. People are starting to stare and cover their ears when I drive by.
(Later at Safeway)
I'm passing down the beer, cheese and wine isle when I see it: "Lowest prices EVER for Kendall Jackson." Focus Sarah. Stay on task! I grab my soy milk and walk briskly towards the people replacers. CLOSED. All of them. I grumble and walk over to the only open register when this old lady bolts in front of me. Oh, I think to myself, go ahead. That's totally fair. She has 3 things, and I have one. One box of soy milk. It's already been at least 4 minutes and there are 5 people in front of me. A page goes over the intercom, and another cashier motions to us. "I can help the next customer over here." I heard myself say, "Go ahead" to the old Lady. She won't take long, and I'm next in line after her. In slow motion she pulls out her wallet, and starts writing a check. I kept waiting for the cashier to say, “Sorry we don't take checks". But she just stood there. Both the cashier and I are staring at the slow motion of the pen in her hands. "Is this your first time?" I wanted to say. The cashier looks up at me, "I'll be right with you"she says. "Oh it's OK". I lie. It's been like 7 minutes easily. "Have you used these checks before?" asks the cashier as she's scanning the check for the 5Th time. Of course it's not working. The cashier reaches for the phone, and there's my que to exit the line.
I'm frantically searching for an open register. Ah ha! The man is gathering his things. He's outa here. Nope, nope he’s good friends with the cashier. They're talking about his son, and something about a BBQ, and a dog, and blah blah blah. I'm laughing. Laughing feels like the only logical thing to do.
I'm up! We do that, "Hi how are you" thing Americans do, and she scans my milk. I thrust my $5 at her. Why isn't she taking my money? She's just staring at me over her glasses like I'm an idiot. "Club Card?" She says. "OH." I forgot to punch in my number. Now I'm the jerk holding up the line. The "8" on the keypad is stuck and there's like five "8's" in my phone number. The person behind me lets out a over dramatic sigh as I repeatedly punch the "8" on the key pad.
"Sorry" I say through my teeth.
Shoot! No soy milk? I forgot that I used the rest of it yesterday. What to do? That almond milk has been there since last year, but maybe it ages well? Nope, it smells like play-Doh, so I put it back in the fridge. "Huff!" I drop my arms towards floor. It's 7:34 in the morning, and I have to leave for class at 8. Safeway is just around the corner. They have those self-check out stands, the ones that replace people. I'm super fast at those. I could be out of there in 5 minutes, 3 if I stay focused.
I throw on my slippers and jacket, then rev up my Mazda. "Please don't make that noise. Please, please, please! I promise I'll get that belt fixed if you'll stop making that high pitched screeching noise." It's getting worse. People are starting to stare and cover their ears when I drive by.
(Later at Safeway)
I'm passing down the beer, cheese and wine isle when I see it: "Lowest prices EVER for Kendall Jackson." Focus Sarah. Stay on task! I grab my soy milk and walk briskly towards the people replacers. CLOSED. All of them. I grumble and walk over to the only open register when this old lady bolts in front of me. Oh, I think to myself, go ahead. That's totally fair. She has 3 things, and I have one. One box of soy milk. It's already been at least 4 minutes and there are 5 people in front of me. A page goes over the intercom, and another cashier motions to us. "I can help the next customer over here." I heard myself say, "Go ahead" to the old Lady. She won't take long, and I'm next in line after her. In slow motion she pulls out her wallet, and starts writing a check. I kept waiting for the cashier to say, “Sorry we don't take checks". But she just stood there. Both the cashier and I are staring at the slow motion of the pen in her hands. "Is this your first time?" I wanted to say. The cashier looks up at me, "I'll be right with you"she says. "Oh it's OK". I lie. It's been like 7 minutes easily. "Have you used these checks before?" asks the cashier as she's scanning the check for the 5Th time. Of course it's not working. The cashier reaches for the phone, and there's my que to exit the line.
I'm frantically searching for an open register. Ah ha! The man is gathering his things. He's outa here. Nope, nope he’s good friends with the cashier. They're talking about his son, and something about a BBQ, and a dog, and blah blah blah. I'm laughing. Laughing feels like the only logical thing to do.
I'm up! We do that, "Hi how are you" thing Americans do, and she scans my milk. I thrust my $5 at her. Why isn't she taking my money? She's just staring at me over her glasses like I'm an idiot. "Club Card?" She says. "OH." I forgot to punch in my number. Now I'm the jerk holding up the line. The "8" on the keypad is stuck and there's like five "8's" in my phone number. The person behind me lets out a over dramatic sigh as I repeatedly punch the "8" on the key pad.
"Sorry" I say through my teeth.
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