Pet peeve of the day: Adults who sell Girl Scout cookies for their daughters/granddaughters/nieces/sisters. I've been hit up at least a half dozen times in the past week by friends and acquaintances, waving that ubiquitous lined sheet in one hand and waving at me with the other. I've got nothing against the Girl Scouts or their cookies. I was a Girl Scout myself once upon a time -- did my own cookie hawking too, going door to door in my neighborhood and asking people myself if they would be interested in buying some. My dad never took my cookie sales sheet to work with him with the intent of asking people to buy from me. My mom never took the sheet with her to any of her meetings or functions. My activity. My responsibility. I don't really remember all the detail of how the other girls in my troop did with their sales; I do recall, though, that there were some who sold A LOT more than others. I'm thinking they had a little parental assist.
I'm also trying really diligently to stick to TDD (The Damn Diet) and Girl Scout cookies aren't delicious or tempting enough for me to squander valuable WW points on. One ambitious grandmother-seller (from Will's school) actually called me on my cell phone this afternoon to remind me that the cookie order was going in tonight and did I want to order any. After I had told her more than once thanks, but no thanks. I'm all about supporting your children or grandchildren in their endeavors. But there comes a point when the kids need to figure out how to do things on their own, without the complete assist or enabling of the grown-ups in their lives.
And I just re-read that rant. Boy, do I sound crabby. Blame it on the diet. And the fleeting thoughts of frozen Thin Mints that dance in my head.
I am now jealous of my son. Because, as I noticed today for the very first time, he has a skill that I would kill to have.
He can raise only one eyebrow at a time. I, no matter how hard I try, cannot. And oh, how I try. I've got a couple of wrinkles that were accelerated thanks to my futile attempts. But Will, while cutting up in therapy today on the swing, looked at his OT mischievously and raised one eyebrow in sly salute. I don't think he yet realizes the power of that skill. I'm not going to tell him either -- not for a while anyway.
My across-the-street neighbors had an all-day yard sale yesterday. And when I say all-day, I mean all-day: shit was up and on tables before 7 am and didn't come down until after 6 pm. I got a little excited when I went out to get the morning paper and saw the activity, thinking that it was the crazy merchant marine guy across the street who was hosting the sale. But it was the couple who live next door to him -- he's obviously out on the high seas at the moment, so they were using his yard and driveway as a staging area. Pity. If it was his sale, I would have gone over to nose around for sure -- maybe picked up a slightly used bong or a hammock or some Deep Purple on vinyl. Drat.
This happy-homemaker/I'm-on-a-diet kick is giving me all kinds of ideas and motivation. I found a recipe for chai mix, which includes the tea and all the spices. So tomorrow I'm going to whip up a batch. I also picked up, from the hardware store of all places, a home canning kit, with the plan to make some strawberry preserves next month when the strawberry crop comes in from Plant City. I made homemade whole wheat pizza dough and homemade turkey sausage for calzones last night.
I feel slightly like Sue Ann Nivens, only not quite as acerbic. Where's Lou Grant when you need him.
This made me laugh and laugh when I read it in the 1/15/07 edition of New York magazine...
From the Approval Matrix page, way down in the Despicable/Lowbrow corner:
A Kentucky Fried Chicken owner in the Bronx sets fire to a neighboring Twin Donuts after it starts selling chicken.
For some reason, that's just hilarious to me.