In which I offend everyone equally...

Every grocery store attracts a different segment of the population.

Whole Foods: Upper middle class or outright rich people, health conscious, status conscious, does not mind burning piles of money on apples that cost 7.99 a pound.

Stop and Shop: Feels like they don't speak enough foreign languages to shop at Whole Foods, is willing to spend too much on groceries that are merely average, enjoys the self scanner guns so they can avoid talking to chronically depressed cashiers.

Trader Joe's: Young and hip. Would like to shop at Whole Foods but their jobs as massage therapists and chakra cleaners prevent them from this. They enjoy the free samples, great music and overall festive mood.

Market Basket: Zombies, drones, cheap housewives, competitive coupon clippers and the entire elderly population of New England.

I have been all of these people over the past decade (except elderly!), but now I am a Market Basket drone. I begin to feel the joy fleeing my soul as I start the car and begin my journey. Once there, I move through the crowded aisles, jostling for 6.99 a case K-cups (7.99 at Stop and Shop, not carried at Trader Joe's, not free range enough for Whole Foods). I have been verbally abused twice at Market Basket. Once a man told me that I should be ashamed of myself because I did not put my cart away properly. My point is that at the Market Basket I can get apples for .99 a pound, but I need to bleed for the privilege.

This morning I told my visiting mother-in-law Ellen that I needed to go to the Market Basket to pick up Lily's birthday cake. She asked to come along. I tried to talk her out of it.

"It's horrible. It's crowded and miserable and I can't imagine anyone going there who didn't actually have to go." I said

She came anyway. Lily came too since it was her cake and she wanted to be the first to see it.

I walked into the store and braced myself for the wave of despair. Instead, where there should have been a big pile of misery, there was a huge pirate! A pirate! Giving away Pirate Booty! We chatted with the friendly pirate and received four (!) packages of free Pirate Booty.

I thought for sure that the cheerfulness we experienced with the Pirate was an aberration. After all, he is not a Market Basket employee. He does not know that gloom is part of the dress code.

We next went to the bakery and the lady at the bakery counter asked Lily if she would like some cookies. As the kind lady gave Lily three (!) free cookies I began to suspect that I had wandered into the twilight zone. This was not my Market Basket. Where were the cranky people? Why was no one berating me for taking too long selecting green beans (.89 a pound)?

My mother in law found some inexpensive and delicious sushi- such delights at the Market Basket! Such a bargain and so wonderful! Finally, as we were checking out, the cashier asked Lily if it was her birthday and wished her a very happy birthday.

The Market Basket made a liar of out of me today. Whether it was a grocery miracle or the universe laughing at me I may never know. I am merely grateful for the opportunity to achieve grocery nirvana with the most unlikely of candidates.

Sale meat, pustules and poison ivy...

When I started this blog just a little over a year ago I imagined that I would blog a lot about home decorating and thrift stores. I had no idea how much of this blog would be about pus and misery.

First the good news:

I haven't used the dryer in over a week! Take that NStar! My umbrella clothes line has completely revolutionized my life. I can now do all of the wash in one day. I just wait for a day of sun and start washing and hanging. By the end of the day everything is dry. The children have been complaining about stiff towels, but I am teaching them to appreciate the exfoliating benefits of towels which have a faintly cardboard consistency to them.

In other news I have become a little old lady in my grocery shopping habits. Each week I scour the grocery ads for which store has the best sales on meat and produce. Lately I have been going to the Stop and Shop, which is generally a store I hate because the employees all seem to be suffering from major depression. I avoided the store for years, but have recently returned because they have personal scanner guns. I love these little machines. You scan each item and bag it right in your cart. Easy peasy and no getting sucked into a conversion with the grocery checker about why life is futile. Anyway, the Stop and Shop also puts $2 off coupons on meat the day before the "sell by" date. That is how I bought six chickens for $12 and twelve pork chops for $8. That's right recession! Who's laughing now?

The bad news:

David spent about a week in complete poison ivy induced misery. He was nearly completely covered. I say nearly, because I know that you are all wondering if the poison ivy affected his other injury. It did not, thank you gods of scrotal sanctity. David's poison ivy did provide us with some entertainment in the form of a rousing game of "Would You Rather?"

"Would you rather lose a testicle or have poison ivy for a month?"
"Would you rather have poison ivy for year or be impotent?"
"Would you agree to a year of poison ivy in exchange for one million dollars?"

Once he started a prescription for steroids we had to stop playing "Would You Rather?" because the roid rage set in and we just avoided him until it wore off.

Now that you know all about David's agony, we can play "Who's Got Pus?" Usually you can bet on Lily because she likes to play in dirt, however this time the bad boy of bacteria is Pugsley who has acute dermatitis. His little arms, legs and belly are covered in weepy pus filled blisters. Bless his sweet pug heart, he is now getting daily baths and an antibiotic. No roid rage though, and so for that I am grateful.