Every other Saturday morning, my husband and I go to a small bakery that's been serving the area for over 100 years. We've been doing this for long enough to be recognized as regulars (though not as regular as some, like Ted, a supremely cantankerous, wheelchair-bound octogenarian who stops by daily for coffee and toast).
My husband and I have constantly joked about never being allowed to go behind the counter, in spite of the numerous people who wind their way around the display cases to get into the back of the store. Most of them are employees, but some are patrons. The store's bathroom is somewhere in the back, though in spite of my drinking 4 generous cups of coffee every time we visit, I've never dared seek it out (I almost peed at the carwash because of this, but that's another story for another post). Last Saturday, the woman working behind the counter said, "Hey, Erin, I
want you to come back here for a minute." I replied, "Really? I
actually get to go back there?"
I walked past two glass cases filled with Easter cookies and walked into the surprisingly generous back of the bakery. The room was monstrously huge, filled with industrial mixers and huge wooden tables, and illuminated by an old light-up beer clock on the far wall. There was a fine patina of flour on everything, and the floors were the original 1900s hardwood: long, narrow planks, almost bare in appearance. The lady who beckoned me back gestured to two black plastic garbage bags on the floor and said, "Do you want to take a look through these? They're full of expensive clothing."
Visions of Valentino, Missoni, Dolce & Gabbana, Gucci filled my head.
She opened the first bag and started pulling out shirt after musty shirt. Evidently, her idea of "expensive clothing" was St. John's Bay, Lands' End, Arizona, and Merona. Even more puzzling was the fact that she thought I might be interested in the items in the bag: plain t-shirts in every size from M to XL, enormous bouclé sweaters, maternity jeans, and various items I couldn't get away with wearing unless I was pushing 80.
"Are these things you're taking to Salvation Army?" I asked.
She replied, "No, the woman who dropped these off, well... she didn't want to give them away, you know? She gave them to me instead. They were her mother's, her mother who just died of cancer."
OH GREAT. I've spent the last 10 minutes rooting around in a bag of a dead woman's clothes. I found two nicer sweaters, so I folded them and set them on top of one of the bags. I really had no intention of taking anything, but I wanted to at least make it look like I was kind of interested. I walked back to my table and my husband noticed my grimace. I gave him the abbreviated version of the story, while vigorously rubbing hand sanitizer all over my hands. He said, "Well, they're free clothes, why not just take them?" So, just before we went to pay, I slipped back and grabbed the two sweaters I had set aside. We brought them home after our day of running errands had drawn to a close, and I threw them in the hamper.
Yesterday, my husband went to do laundry and while he was emptying out the hamper, I heard him exclaim, "AHH! Dead woman sweater!" ಠ~ಠ
Wednesday, March 06, 2013
I had an adjustment this morning and the orthodontist finally gave me a revised estimate of 2-4 months! As you can imagine, this makes me a happy panda knowing the end is in sight. To celebrate, I had a hazelnut macchiato and piece of chocolate cinnamon bread from Starbucks (and evidently can't have any more sugar or saturated fat for the rest of the day, but oh well. They were delicious).
I had to have a double power chain put on this time to help close up my stubborn gap between incisor and premolar, and my teeth haven't yet gotten the message that this is going to hurt, big time. In case you don't know about doubling up on power chains, they remove the wire, put a power chain on the bare brackets, reinstall the wire, and then put another power chain over that. If the previous adjustments with a single power chain are any predictor, my teeth will hurt for about a week. At any rate, the time immediately after the adjustment is good if you're a dieter, since you'll be forced to eat nothing but soft foods (of course, there is the fact that ice cream is soft, and that definitely doesn't help).
Monday, March 04, 2013
My all-time favorite purveyors of goofy stuff, Perpetual Kid, always has a lot of fun coffee-related accessories. I love this tiny coffee creamer pot, pictured above. I'm not getting any kickbacks or commission from sharing these things with you -- I honestly just like this company (but, you know, if you wanna buy me anything from Perpetual Kid, I won't complain).
Check out some of the other cute coffee paraphernalia they have to offer:
Black Cat Mug & Spoon Set, $24.99
(also available in panda)
One Lump or Two? Sugar Bowl, $16.99
(my humps, my humps, my little sugar lumps?)
Coffee Bean Soap, $11.49
(also available in circus peanut, but eww)
Donut Coffee Mug, $13.49
(now I want a donut....)
Friday, March 01, 2013
I'm just so sick and tired of wearing these stupid things and there's no end in sight. I think the orthodontist lied to me about the treatment time, too: at my consultation, he said "12-18 months", but put "18-24 months" in my file. In that case, I'm not even close to the lower end of the treatment time. I really don't think my teeth are going to look a whole lot better than they did before I got braces, considering they weren't particularly crooked to begin with.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Note: I wrote this post during the summer and decided to hold off posting it, since I had been ranting about fashion for several months straight. I was about to delete it when I thought, what the heck, why don't I just post it now? The pictures and formatting are probably a bit messed up, but I'm not sure how to fix that. Frankly, I don't really care that much.
I was browsing Forever21's website for spring/summer tops and started commenting to myself how silly some of the models look. They're all sad or surly or bewildered; rarely do you see any of them smile. Half of them have this look on their face that says, "Put that camera down or I will cut you" (especially that Lindsey Lohan-looking chick; she mad). Plus, some of the garments they're wearing leave you going, "Wha? What does this even mean?" I'm probably just jealous because I can't wear 75% of the stuff they sell, because a) the clothes are too small, b) the fabric is cheap, poorly-constructed, and vanishingly thin, and c) it looks fudiculous on even the thinnest woman. OF course, it also gives me a lot of new "trends" to dislike, namely peplum hems, high-low shirts, crop tops, excessive cut-outs, and mustaches on every damn thing. I'm going to make a high-low, cropped, peplum shirt with no back and a big fat mustache on the front and I will make a fortune.
Take, for example, these "gems":
|Look at the wrists on this girl. Someone needs to administer a 150cc bolus of HAM SANDWICH, STAT|
|Shucks, I just rolled in from the farm. Mah daddy won't let me work outside or nothin', what 'cause of them melanomers and all. But I shore is purty, ain't I?|
|"Can someone please bring me some pants? I seem to be wearing just my undies again."|
|After an unsuccessful repair of her torn hip flexor, Lady Gaga was forced to give up music and become a 4th grade homeroom teacher.|
|Apparently, she's wearing a porcupine on her head and the front of her nightgown got caught in a combine.|