the grapetastrophy

Some of you may have been around for the $20 watermelon….or maybe you forgot about the $20 watermelon.

Either way, I'll wait for you to refresh your memory or make a new one. It's important to have this background knowledge.

Ready?

Here we go.

Apparently, history repeats itself in the produce department. We like to find the things that are ridiculously expensive without realizing it until after we make it through the checkout.

And by that point, knowing how Tim refuses to be shamed by fruit, it's too late.

I partially blame this particular expenditure on doing the GET IT AND GET OUT mad dash that was grocery shopping on Saturday. We were dealing with a baby who wanted to graze any and all items within reach, edible or not, and a child who wanted to be in charge of the grocery list and got upset if we didn't go line by line down the list versus in order of what each aisle had.

I tried to explain how it would not be efficient to go back and forth, up and down the same aisles over and over again, but I don't think it really sank in. At all.

Why, you ask? Well, I was talking to Kellan AND Tim at the same time about completely different things, so instead of giving an important, coherent lesson, it sounded more like, "We need to get all of the things…DID YOU GET THE BREAD?….all of the things in one aisle without having to…YES TWO LOAVES….without having to go back and….ALSO GRAB SOME MILK….forth…MILK? THE HAPPY COW KIND…I know the list isn't in order….YES A WHOLE GALLON….I didn't have time to put it in order….Kellan did you check off bread and milk??

I usually organize the list by aisle but we made one on the fly *as* we drove to the store from a park. I realized we were close to Whole Foods and made a split second decision to go as we drove out of the parking lot.

Looking back, we probably made a whole bunch of errors that led to this expenditure, but hey. That's how we roll. Sometimes. Most of the time….goodbyeeeeee type a trying to take over.

Anyway, Kellan wanted to be in charge of checking things off the list and Hunter wanted to be held and sample anything, whether we put we put it in the cart or not. Kid eats everything. All the time. By the time we left it looked like Hunter had gone into battle with a buffet table and lost…handily.

So, anyhow, the entire time we are grocery shopping my brain is in four places at once and really I cannot ever concentrate fully on one thing. I walk around feeling hectic. I don't know any other way to describe it. I actually feel hectic. Like a swirling dervish of questions and items and what was I doings.

After we filled our cart with mostly things not even on the list (which Kellan protested and then added to the list because details are important, people), I left Tim to handle the checking out on his own. I decided I was getting a smoothie because I was starving.

Kellan spent this time running back and forth between the two of us (straight shot, visible the whole time) to relay information.

Mommy is getting a smoothie.

Daddy asked what size smoothie.

Twelve ounces.

What's in this bag?

Cookies.

Apparently an hour long hike wasn't enough to wear him out.

By the time we got everybody and everything strapped into the car, we sat in the front seats and just stared at each other like what even just happened? Did we even buy anything on the list?

Tim then started going down the receipt to see what all of the "high ticket" items were. Apparently he didn't get to watch the register during checkout, so this was his way of doing it…albeit after the fact.

"What was $10.81??"

He traced his finger along the dotted lines ……what is this……GRAPES?

We bought $10.81 worth of GRAPES???

How many packages of grapes did we buy??

I looked at him all, "One."

This was too much information…or maybe too little information, for Tim.

Why on earth were they ten dollars??? What kind of grapes are ten dollars???

They were organic?

(Apparently that's my go to excuse for expensive produce)

Tim stuffed the receipt in the cup holder all, "These $10 grapes are right on par with that $20 watermelon."

In its defense, it was a really good watermelon….

He kept going under his breath all, "They better be really fantastic grapes for $10. TEN DOLLARS. For grapes!"

And he left it at that until we got home and I tried a few of the grapes.

I looked at him and smiled and said, "These are really good grapes! Totally worth the $10!"

(Because they actually really were)

Tim looks at me dead in the eye and says, "I better not see one. single. grape. in the trash. Not a one!"

Produce: 2
Tim: 0

bagged meat

We made taco salad for dinner the other night.

I know. So boring.

Except I need to know if what I am about to say is just a me thing or if it's generally accepted as GROSS.

We are still living that temporary apartment life and we are starting to run out of things because you don't stockpile when you're going to have to move it all over again.

I am referencing things like glass containers to store food.

I am all about reducing plastic use here, people.

Except we still have ziplock bags – which are 100% plastic – because I haven't yet found a way to not have those. How do you do it? Please share the wisdom of your ways.

Anyhow. Tacos.

All of our (as in three) glass containers to store food were being used. All of the bowls were dirty.

There was thismuch taco meat leftover. Juuuuust too much to be able to eat the last few bites and call it a day.

But there was nothing to put it in.

So says me.

Tim grabs a ziplock bag and is all, "Here, use this!"

And I looked at him like are you serious?

He was definitely serious.

While he scooped it up from the pan and dropped it in the bag he was all, "Are you going to eat this? You're going to eat this, right?"

And he was saying "this" like you'd ask anyone if they'd eat leftovers from a meal that was just so amazingly delicious.

Ummm….do I have to answer?

Maybe? (Read: never)

*gag*

Here is where I get caught up.

Meat doesn't go in bags.

Sandwiches.

Grapes.

Doritos.

Pizza slices.

Carrot sticks.

Even a half eaten hamburger.

All of those things I can see in a bag.

But loose meat?!?!

Bagged. Ground. Loose. Meat.

And let's take it a step further because really there is always an end game:

You want me to open a bag of loose ground meat and pour it.

We are now pouring bagged meat onto a tortilla. Into a bowl. Wherever it's supposed to go, it's going to get there in such a fashion that is akin to liquid coming out of a jug….

I just…I can't.

I can a lot of things but this is one area I just cannot.

I'll have you know that the bag of meat is still sitting in the refrigerator. Probably conforming to whatever shape it has been squished into.

Really none of what I am saying is heading in a direction that ends well.

So let's just leave it at that.

The cold, squished, loose ground meat is never getting eaten.

(I probably just crossed the line with that)

missed the turn, he did

We still haven't found a house.

Well, wait. Wait wait wait WAIT.

Let me rephrase.

We found one house that we absolutely LOVED and put a contract on it and then they decided they didn't want to sell it anymore.

We found another house that got all the way through inspection and then failed the radon piece of it in a big way. Nix that one.

We found another one and they don't want to sell it for a reasonable price and apparently are trying to make $150,000 (yes, I put the correct number of zeroes) off the sale of said house from what they bought it for a few years ago.

We ain't payin' for no college, unless it's our own kids, yo.

So. Off we go again today to see five more houses. Yesterday we saw two inside and drove by four more to see if we liked the neighborhood enough to explore more in depth.

We didn't, FYI.

Tim's company thinks we are being picky and are looking for a "dream" home and we are just like no. All we are trying to find is one that doesn't have holes down to the wood in the carpet, backs to a huge retention pond with a gate that has a door leading right into it in their backyard for small children to fall in, a door on the second story that leads directly to the hospital with a broken neck because they didn't want to upgrade to a deck option so when you open the door, there is nothing but a rickety wooden "gate" to keep you from taking a 15 foot drop to the ground below (why they didn't just put a window there is beyond me), wallpaper and paint in the darkest most awful colors….I mean we aren't going to be living here for lots of years. Only a few years.

And because we know we will be moving, we want a house we don't have to fix for 50% of the time we will live in it and only have 50% of the time to enjoy it. And then have to worry if we will get our money back out so we have money to put down on wherever we end up next. It's a vicious cycle and we know how to play the game and really, Tim's company, you should be more helpful.

It doesn't make it any easier that we are currently in a sellers market. So now, all these people are looking at their house through rose colored glasses thinking it's worth $150,000 more than it was five years ago.

(One hundred and fifty. thousand. dollars. I still cannot get over that.)

Capiche?

Anyway.

This morning while Tim was making pancakes and Kellan and Hunter were playing and I was drinking coffee, probably, I said what I have apparently been saying every time we are about to go see a house. Something exactly along the lines of, "I really hope we like one of these so we can put a contract on it and be done!"

Right after those words came out of my mouth Tim was like stop! You're jinxing us!

I was like what? No I'm not. That's ridiculous.

I told him I didn't believe in those sorts of things until he reminded me of all the old wives tales I made him do to try and get knocked up last year.

(Whatever. It worked.)

He saw that I knew he was right and so he looked at me like, "mmmmhmmmm you know you do."

Okay, fine. We all believe in those things.

Even if we don't want to admit it.

My favorite number is two and I prefer living in a house with an even address number.

THERE. I SAID IT.

Moving on.

Tim: "We need to try and mix it up a little."

As in, stop saying how much I hope we like one of the houses.

So I looked at him and deadpanned, "I REALLY DO NOT WANT TO GO DO THIS TODAY."

Tim's brain immediately goes into solve it mode. "I'll just go or you can go and I'll stay…."

I looked at him, waiting for him to catch on and he just looked back at me like what??? I'm trying to solve the problem! You don't want to go so just one of us can instead……..

Mix it up you said.

Change the words you said.

Missed the joke, you did.

And Tim, who is not one to like the fact that he missed out on a joke, was like, "You sounded so serious! It was so real! And whooooshhhhh! There was a left turn and I wasn't on it!"

For the rest of breakfast I was given the Actor of the Year award and Tim's brain was a broken record because he couldn't believe he could set up a joke so perfectly and then one second later, miss the bus.

Beep beep.