I will write as I am waiting for Princess to call. She is getting her hair done in R.O. and it is the only time she comes to town, so we'll go out. Getting her hair done takes two to two and a half hours and the last time I went early and then had to stand in the salon and wait. I don't like waiting . . . and I don't like "salons" particularly, and this one is a very, very small, exclusive one, so I kept feeling like a needed some air. I am toying with the idea of going to coffee though.

So as it turns out, sewing is not as easy as one would think. I watched my mother do it for years and she always made it look easy. My sewing? There is swearing. And lots of trips to the internet to look up terms because the pattern will just say "GATHER" without telling you how to gather. You will need to baste in three rows in order to gather and make sure that you pull the bobbin string gently. Just the bobbin string. And you will need to look up baste in order to do it three times. Of course, the internet does not roll her eyes and look at you in the "you're such a disappointing daughter how did I produce someone with no domestic skills" when you ask it what baste means. Which makes me glad there is the internet. But the apron is done. It has rick-rack covering all the times I could not sew in a straight line. Sewing beats knitting in that way . . . can't put rick-rack on when you drop a stitch.

Oh, and my car? The tumblers in the lock assembly were jammed. The key wouldn't move, forward or back. Went in, bought some yogurt and a kefir smoothie, came back out and my key wouldn't move. So my brother drove 40 minutes, sat in the seat, spoke lovingly to it and it turned. He says we can build a new lock assembly this week. Sounds very exciting . . . like a puzzle. And now, I'm just driving around with a can of WD-40. And I have to clean out my car. And get it detailed. As penance.

And then there was the parking lot that I was stuck in. My father went to the Polish Market last week (in Troy, on Maple) and although they were a disappointment about the ham (my father likes Polish ham, sliced very thin, almost shaved, but not shaved . . . he is the Sally of ham . . . and he likes a certain brand, which they said they had, but didn't really have), the Polish Market was said to carry European yogurt in glass jars. Yum. Yogurt in glass jars with surprise flavors because you can't read the labels. Just like in France. S

o that was my quest of yesterday. And they did not have yogurt in glass jars. They had beet salad in glass jars. They had fish in seal-o-meal bags. They had chocolate that you can't find at the grocery store (kinder bars . . . mmmmm). And they had yogurt but not the selection that I was expecting. In Europe, entire aisles at the grocery store are devoted to yogurt . . . stacks and stacks of yogurt. At the Polish Market they had four kinds yesterday, but four kinds that I couldn't find at Meijer. And the stuff I bought has chocolate flakes and is the consistency of frosting. Which is good. Not as good as glass jars, but good. And now I know where to get shredded beets.

Okay, maybe I will go to coffee. Her hair is taking a long time, and I'm sick of waiting by the phone.

Rained Out

I had a positively grand day, in spite of the rain . . . maybe because of it.

I had planned to do yard work, until it was done. Instead I got to read the paper with a half order of french toast. Then I went to the Berkley knit store (Have You Any Wool) and bought some pink, mindless knitting, yarn to make up for all the projects that I have ongoing, all in mohair for some reason. And mohair is like knitting with thread. It never seems like you make any progress. So I need a couple of hats under my belt to feel like I can accomplish something (a hat takes me a couple of days). So pink hats it is . . .

I then checked all the stores listed in the Free Press entertainment section last week, when they showcased Berkley shopping. Shoe store was good. Found some cute little red numbers . . . but didn't want to peak early, so didn't buy them. For $39 I might have to go back though. Went to the musical instrument store and asked about fixing my viola. Kicked around Catching Fireflies.

Then I drove to Birmingham. Figured I would to the run of yarn stores. But the B'ham yarn store wasn't open . . . because it is never open. Walked all over downtown, window shopping. Then drove to Plum Market.

Because I am genetically related to Mr. Crabbypants, I love to look at grocery stores. In a new town? Let's check out and see if they have different mustard. In France? Ooooh, look at the yogurt aisle. And because I grew up with the vacation tour of grocery stores, I didn't know it was weird. Likewise with my fascination with new ones. Comes from my father having a degree and obsessive love of marketing. So off to Plum Market I went. To look at the wine selection and to see what I could see.

Honestly, I give it a B-. Very pretty without much substance. Lots o' expensive stuff . . . most of it being soap. As much soap as coffee. The cashier bubbled at me about how they put all the produce in the walk-in refrigerator every night. I guess that is an impressive use of labor cost. And there was a lot of produce. All of it seemed to be organic. Impressive cheese aisle, but that may only be because some geeky guy in glasses was looking at me, so I spent a longer time there. I'm such a sucker for geeky and glasses . . . and I do like cheese.

So all in all, a good grocery store for pick ups . . . but I wouldn't really buy anything there. Well, actually I bought three different mint plants (for my herb garden, that doesn't exist yet) (because I want mojitos), a bottle of French wine (because I almost recognize the name) and some snotty raspberry-lime mineral water. I was out for under $20.

Then the Gap, because it was close. Then to Lowe's . . . but I got distracted by shoes (DSW is next door) but there weren't any shoes as cool as the ones I saw in Berkley. So I managed to piece together some flowers, which are now sitting on my porch, not in their containers. Lowe's had put all their good flowers in containers . . . but I have containers and contented myself with the fact that the crummy flowers would probably grow. After all, they are plants and my porch has really good sun. Now if it would just stop raining.

So didn't get anything done that I was planning to get done. And it was lovely.

Icy

My father, Mr. Crabbypants, suffers from what we call "White Panic". The white panic is an obsession with sidewalk cleanliness in the winter. It means shoveling when there are just flurries on the ground and salt. A tremendous amount of salt. Because where there is salt, there can be no ice.

Evidently, Berkley had an ice storm this morning. I woke up to a thick layer of ice on my cars and driveway. The sidewalk? Well, because of the construction and diggers, there is a bigger lake than usual. Iced over, of course. And my reaction to this? I went back to bed. No white panic here.

This evening, it occurred to me that I should do something about the iciness, lest the mail person slip, fall and die on my porch. I don't do well with guilt . . . and slaying the mail person with ice negligence? I think there would be some guilt. So while spending my bi-weekly $100 at Meijers on liquids and yogurt, I picked up some salt. Because I've been taught that salt will fix it.

It was treacherous, taking the liquids and yogurt into the house. And then I started with the salt. I have a very nice scoop, made from a wiper fluid bottle, as all the scoops are made in my family, for everything. And you know what? The salt has done nothing. A bit more traction, that's it. It's just sitting there.

Let's hope that it's sunny and warm tomorrow. And that the mail person is careful, with spikes on their shoes. And my apologies to Mr. Crabbypants. Because if he saw my walk, he would disown me.

Benefiting from Low Expectations

Mr. Cat has been fed . . . and kissed at his insistence. And I washed and disinfected his bowl before feeding him, because I don't like eating off of dirty dishes, why should he? And he can't just go out and buy more dishes . . . like I can . . . because my parents refuse to give him the car keys.

He shouldn't be this lonely, the Crabbypants only left this morning. Attention whore, that Catman. He has now sulked off to someplace warmer . . . Stately Wayne Manor is cold, as you would expect it to be. I'm about to steal some socks.

I still have to go to the store and get what I'm making for tomorrow. Heck, I still have to search the Martha Stewart website for what I'm making for tomorrow. And because I only cook two days a year, I will have to buy everything. Every ingredient. Wait . . . I have sugar and flour . . . I think . . . sugar and flour don't go bad, right? It's amazing that I'm considered a functioning adult. Oh, and I have brown sugar . . . so three whole ingredients in my house . . . and I might have some filo dough . . . and I know I have three bottles of V-8, due to failure to take inventory before going to Meijer. And V-8 does go bad . . . so I better get on drinking some one of these days.

The best thing about cooking only two days out of the year? Everyone is really impressed when you pull it together . . . or it's just not burnt. Last year (was it last year?) I made a pie, from scratch, with little Martha Stewart-y leaves and everything . . . and there were the pumpkin cupcakes . . . though made too many of those. We had to eat them forever. Anyhow, I digress, it's easy to impress when there are such low expectations. Second best thing is going to touch all the produce at Whole Foods.

Don't tell Mom that I washed the cat's bowl with her scrubby. She'll wonder why it smells like liver and figure it out eventually. It is sorta a foodstuff and I cleaned it off really well afterwards. The guilt may kill me. It wasn't the favorite scrubby anyhow.

Saturday Night

Oh, the exciting life of a single girl in Detroit on a Saturday night. With Princess staying in . . . which she is allowed since I left her hanging with the "sorority" sisters last night, leaving her to win the Euchre tournament while being the only person under the age of 45 . . . and others somehow getting lives (and not calling me back), I have no wingperson. So I went grocery shopping instead.

Topped off a shopping day really. Went to Twelve Oaks on the way home from Stately Wayne Manor and tried on at least 142 pairs of jeans. Princess was right, the DKNY bootcuts DO make your ass look amazing . . . but they don't come in the right length. I'm tired of stepping on my jeans and I don't care what Vogue says, I'm not wearing heels with my jeans.

Came home and took a long nap. Went to Somerset to try on more jeans. Then tried on this amazing Calvin Klein suit . . . and lusted for it. Decided that I needed to audit my closet before paying $200 on a suit (on sale from $300). So didn't buy anything . . .

So going back and buying the DKNY jeans as a treat after parent teacher conferences . . . maybe I can get them hemmed. Oh and grocery shopping was a blast, as always. At least they had yogurt this time.

Who Knew?

-- that it takes seven years to become a nun.
-- that cranberry juice "should be consumed within two weeks of opening for the most freshness and satisfaction. (I wonder if the addition of vodka negates that . . . ) (not that I would ever put vodka in my cranberry juice, kids)
-- V8, same thing, but one week.
-- that Meijer's will indeed never be stocked with yogurt, ever. See past entry.
-- the Royal Oak post office doesn't pick up the mail outside until 1 p.m. I guess I'm going to have to go inside.
-- You can make light switch covers with your face on them . . . or anything you want really . . . from cafe press.
-- The caller ID of work is the same number no matter who is calling . . . so don't answer it because it might not be who you think it is . . .

Dannon Yogurt would make it all okay

I have to go to work tomorrow. I may not sleep at all, which is not unusual for a night before I go back. I have to write a quiz on Great Expectations but can't do it until I get to school. I've already checked the email, so I won't have a meltdown in the morning . . . yet was smart enough (this time) not to open any emails that would upset me, piss me off, or otherwise not let me sleep.

It didn't help that I stayed in bed until 11, though really it was 10 if you think about it. I kept turning over, telling myself that this was the last day to sleep in, as if I will never have a weekend again. I didn't leave the house until 6 and that was only because there was nothing to eat . . . and my neighbors were making me feel guilty by doing yard work. Horrible renters doing the yard work! How dare they. Actually only one was doing yard work, the other was standing in the middle of the yard watching the raking and drinking what I assumed to be a cocktail.

I went to the mecca of Meijers and they had nothing I wanted again. I always forget. It only takes six months to fade from my memory banks that Meijers keeps nothing I desire in stock. Every six months I go there and am shocked to discover that they are completely out of Dannon yogurt. No Dannon (except coffee, but who wants coffee yogurt? I like anything coffee to be actual coffee). They didn't have the kind of vodka I wanted (I was inspired by the neighbor's cocktail), they only had gallons of light rum, they had no frozen yogurt (substitute for the Dannon), everyone there was either a cute couple (actually cute guy who turned out to be a couple, each time) or they were on a cell phone. It was awful. This is why I spend 25 cents more an item to go to Holiday Market. I did get cute little eight ounce bottles of Diet Coke and lots of strawberries because they were on sale.

My eyes now hurt . . . because I'm not wearing any corrective elements as I took my contacts out thinking that maybe I would get sleepy . . . the letters are all blurry and it's hard to spell when one cannot see. I guess I'll go watch A&E after I find some glasses.

Terrible loathing and the fear that I will not wake up on time. Ugh.