Cucumbers and Centaurs

That's what we've been eating a lot of recently: cucumbers. Because Erin likes it, that's why. And Ian does too. I'm glad we planted a lot of garden (even though I secretly think we won't be here to harvest...that makes me want to raise the asking price a little. Maybe $30 or so) because these 2 could eat a centaur out of house and home.

Just in case you're not brushed up on your C.S.Lewis, a centaur has a horse's body and legs and the torso and head of a man.

Courtesy of "The Silver Chair,":

"A centaur has a man-stomach and a horse-stomach. And of course both want breakfast. So first of all he has porridge and pavenders and kidneys [remember, Lewis was British, don't retch] and bacon and omelette and cold ham and toast and marmalade and coffee and beer [there's that British part again]. And after that he attends to the horse part of himself by grazing for an hour or so and finishing up with a hot mash, some oats and a bag of sugar [that part in particular reminds me of Ian, should he ever have his way]. That's why it's such a serious thing to ask a Centaur to stay for the week-end. A very serious thing indeed."

Back to the subject, Ian could clean out a farmer's market and Erin is not far behind him, especially when she finally gets some teeth. She's doing her share as best she can, gumming the cold cucumbers to a mealy, squishy end.

On a more humorous note, let's change gears a little. To me, choosing vegetables at the grocery store is a serious thing for me. Having grown some of my own vegetables, I'm pretty picky about what I eat. I don't like asparagus that's too thick, because it's tough and nasty. I don't like overgrown stuff because it's tough, as a rule. Bigger is not always better, unless you're going to make zucchini boats. Then it seems like you can't find a zucchini bigger than your finger.

Anyway, after you find the right size of vegetable, you want to make sure that it's ripe and so forth. So you squeeze it a little to make sure there's not any mushy or bruised spots that will make you throw half of it away when you cut it up.

Last, but not least, it's always good to smell it. That way you can smell any mold or overripeness easily. And that way if it doesn't smell like the fruit or vegetable you're after, you'll save yourself a little more trouble. For instance, if it's an orange that smells weird, it could be sour! Or a strawberry box that smells musty is probably molded at the bottom. Now that we've had our lesson and you're all determined to go and choose produce this way from now on, please finish reading.

I was at Walmart with the kids during our normal grocery shopping trip and finally made it to produce, that last stop before checkout for us.

I was choosing a couple of cucumbers and discarding a few of the larger ones right off because I really hate to get those big tough seeds when you eat a cucumber slice. So I picked one up and squeezed it and it was a little mushy, so I got another one, squeezed it and then smelled it and put it down. I chose another one and was just sticking it up to sniff it when I noticed two guys standing a few feet away with really strange looks on their faces. They did not look me in the eye and I couldn't figure out if they were horrified or laughing or just turned on when I realized that a cucumber is one of those things that guys get a kick out of because they can be phallic symbols, for lack of a more delicate phrase.

I felt my face turn red and burn and quickly grabbed some bananas and left. I no longer squeeze and smell cucumbers, or zucchinis for that matter, in public. I still feel my face start to burn when I pass the cucumbers. I told Chris about this and he about fell out of the car laughing. He still teases me about it. Notice that we never have any of this kind of stuff to laugh about when it comes to men. That's because they don't have the guts to tell the stories. Yes, that has to be why. ;)

Adventures in Retail

It never fails. Every time I go grocery shopping, especially with the kids, it is an adventure. Sometimes it is a fun adventure, but mostly it is a testing of my patience. Today it was cold. Coooold cold. And as usual it took forever for everyone to be dressed, fed, watered, pottied and readied for a lengthy trip to town. Since Chris has been on the day shift, it has fallen on me to do the shopping with both kids. Since Erin is still prone to snoozing during the longer trips, we keep her in the carseat and prop it onto the front of the cart and Ian sits, lolls, jumps, rolls and does various acrobatics in the big part of the cart. Those who are thinking about grocery trips (we only go twice a month) are wondering where the groceries are going to go. Well, they go in the second cart that gets dragged behind me.

Come a little closer and feel my biceps of steel.

Today wasn't as bad as other days because I was shopping for mostly food. Sometimes there's a big list of drug items and other stuff that you get from the one half of Walmart while the grocery stuff is on the other half. After a quick zoom through the dry goods half (and the clearance clothing. I got the cutest little warm soft boots for Erin today and she needed them!) we started on the grocery, with Ian dramatically exclaiming, "but I don't WANT gwoshwies today, Mommy!" He got a little perkier after I let him choose orange juice. But you can't let him get too involved, because the boy is picky. "I want the green one! I don't yike that one," he'll say as I put generic noodles into the cart. Of course, he wants the ones that are twice as expensive and supposedly do everything but clear up all your wrinkles. And we're not even halfway done. But we only had a handful of near death experiences with the bouncing kid cart and the full grocery cart dragged behind us. Of course, it's always frustrating when they have those big posts in the middle of the aisle, but I can't complain since the roof is still intact. And how dare they restock when I'm shopping? Don't they know that I can't maneuver around all those boxes? I'm short and can't see over the baby in the cart. People run screaming and dive for cover behind those very boxes when I laboriously turn the corner. And the elderly should be grateful for those little battery operated shopping scooters. Otherwise, they would be toast from my train. It's harder to knock over a 500 pound scooter after all.
But the absolute fun part comes after the meat section (where Ian touches all of the meat packets and informs everyone around us that they are cold) and the produce (where Ian decides to do a circus act in his part of the cart by trying to stand on the canteloupe and cycle it around) to when it is time for check out.

Which poor unsuspecting Walmart checker will we heckle today? Ah! There she is. By now, everyone is testy and frustrated and has been ready to leave for half an hour. Ian has suddenly gotten hungry and wants everything in sight. Erin is grunting and growling, starting to sound like a cross between a hungry hen and a boat motor. She is ready to get out of her carseat. Mommy's ankles are sore from being run over by the cart she is pulling behind her, where it is so full that things fall off when she turns sharp corners. Now she has to juggle the children, one of whom is riding on the side to reach all the tempting loose things on the side aisles and trying to push all the buttons on the debit machine before telling the checker that it doesn't work and it's broken. She looks baffled and a little scared at his pronouncement.
Things start going onto the belt while I keep a sharp eye on Ian, who is known for sneaking interesting things like denture cream and earplugs on while I'm not looking (why DO they put those type of things on these aisles? Am I ever really going to say "Oh, I'm so glad those were here! I almost forgot the earplugs!"). I am still putting things on the belt when the bag revolver is full and the checker starts stacking things on top. I push my buggies down farther, before Ian types in something irreparable into the debit machine or decides to spit on it to make it work.

We continue. Someone stops to talk to the checker but gets sidetracked when Ian tells them that their artificial bouquet of roses has bugs in it. The woman studies the flowers carefully, doesn't see any bugs, then smiles at Ian and asks him if he likes flowers. Ian replies that "kids don't want flowers." He then redirects her attention to a balloon that has escaped to rest against the ceiling. She remarks that it's too bad that no one has a bow and arrows to get it down. Or rocks. "Rocks! That's right!" Ian says. "Don't give him any ideas," I warn her, only half joking. She laughs. Ian gets distracted again with the glue on her roses that are supposed to resemble dew. He picks at it some and then tells her that it's stuck. Then he tells her that it's weird. She laughs. I laugh some too, but mostly because of the look on her face. Anyway, I was very grateful for the general distraction as I paid and started wheeling everyone toward the doors. I made a quick stop to put Erin's new booties on her, since it was 26 degrees outside. I go out and it's snowing. Naturally. I get the kids into the car, get rid of the one cart and try to start loading the groceries when our Jeep pulls its very own Bad Weather Tantrum.
Every time there is bad weather, something doesn't work on the Jeep. As soon as the bad weather is over, the broken part is miraculously repaired. There is no logical reasoning for this vehicular behavior. The response to cold/snowy/rainy-thundery weather is for the back hatch to not stay open. You can open it and hold it up, but as soon as you let go it will shut on your head/body/groceries/grocery cart, whatever else is in the way, you get it. And if you decide to be sly and decide to shut the hatch and just open the hatch window, the hatch window will get the same mindset. Either way, you will end up holding up something with one hand and shovelling in groceries with the other hand, one bag at a time. And you can just visualize what happens when I have a cube of soda or a flat of water bottles or other heavy stuff to put in. I balance the hatch on my head while trying to maneuver the heavy article into the back. It does not help at all that the tandem stroller takes up so much space already.
Anyway, to make it a little shorter, it takes me twice as long to load the groceries because of the hatch tantrum and Ian has long since started complaining that he's cold. Erin has gone back to sleep.
Finally, we get out of the parking lot only to repeat the ordeal backwards when we get home, only now Ian is loose in the house and Erin is awake and loudly protesting her confinement in the carseat while I shuffle one or two bags at a time into the house and constantly reopening the back hatch. It will be another half an hour until I can put the groceries away. It will be another hour after that until I can sit down (think collapse) in a chair and breathe for a minute before someone needs something. So there, a page out of my book. Boy am I glad that it's only twice a month.