I am that petty person these days.
I know I'm really a miser at heart because when I looked at my attitude and realized it was terrible I actually though, "I know I am seeing this ugly thing in myself now, but God can change that in me... but I don't know that I really want to ask him to. I kind of want to be a brat and feel justified in my mean ways."
I am not a nice person.
In a few more days I will come to a place where I will lay myself before the Lord, but because I'm always perfectly honest here on this ol' blog, I will tell you that I'm just stewing in my sin at this point.
But let's not talk about that too much.
Let's talk about Fred Meyer.
I have always been a Target girl. I love me some Target.
But I might have a new bff.
The Snohomish Fred Meyer.
Maybe because it is so close. But it might just be because something awesome happens each time I go.
Last week I went to FM wearing a grey cotton skirt and a pair of leggings. Under my leggings I was wearing some of the brightest pink panties you have ever encountered.
Somewhere near the organic carrots my leggings suddenly started to creep from my waist to my hips and showed no sign of stopping.
I'm not sure how it all happened, whether I was just walking with wiggly hips, or the very sheer nature of my undergarments caused some sort of legging malfunction, but as the leggings were doing the shimmy, my underwear decided they wanted in on the trek.
I was trying to find an unoccupied aisle to adjust myself, but the store was very busy. I tried a few inconspicuous hitches but all that did was pull up the leggings and miss the panties. Pretty soon the leggings were barely holding on to my rear and my pretty pinks were not anywhere near where I had put them in the morning.
By the time I left the store there was nothing between my bottom and my skirt and I was gritting my teeth against the moment when both the leggings and my underwear made the final plunge to my ankles.
That moment never came, but the first thing I did when I got to my van was to put everything in it's right place. If someone had walked by at just the right moment I very well could have been arrested for indecent exposure.
Today I took Jack and Joey with me to grab a few items and get Jack out of the house.
When I shop with both boys Jack always sits in the front seat and I put Joey's carrier in the main section of the cart. It doesn't leave any room for groceries, but I don't have to do it very often, so I can manage once in a while.
When our trip was finished, I wheeled the cart out to the van. I rested the front of the cart against the van to keep it in place and transfered Jack first (I always do him first so that he is as contained as possible). Then I grabbed our groceries and put them in.
When I turned around for the third time, to get Joey, the cart was gone.
Can you even imagine what went through my mind?
First I was totally confused, then I was a little scared, and then I was laughing hysterically as I saw the cart rolling at a leisurely pace down the parking lot with a little baby in it.
Somehow the cart got free of my positioning and was following the gentle slope of the lot.
I made some sort of exclamation and quickly chased after the cart (good thing I wasn't wearing leggings!). After I had retrieved it and returned it to the cart rack I heard someone chuckle. I looked up and a young couple had witnessed the whole thing and enjoyed the show a good deal.
I know that could have gone horribly wrong had a car been part of the equation, but as it was, I had a good laugh, which felt very nice.
Not all of my enjoyment of FM comes from my own propensity for being totally ridiculous. The employees also brighten my day.
On the same day that I almost showed the world of Fred Meyer my fancy pants
"pants" means panties.
I didn't learn this until
after I told someone at the train stop
"I like your pants,"
and they looked at me like I
was really, really weird.
I was purchasing some pastrami at the deli.
I was going to make reuben sandwiches.
I really love reubens.
The woman behind the counter was a little older, and seemed like a totally run-of-the-mill deli lady. That is, until she handed me my pastrami.
She said, "Have you ever had our pastrami?" When I answered in the negative she began to show off the sliced meat, "you can see how beautiful it is..." and promised me that it would be the best that I had ever tasted.
I smiled, pleased by her enthusiasm, but what made her my favorite deli lady ever is that when I took my meat and offered the usual, "Thanks, have a nice day," she returned with a very sincere, "I hope you enjoy it immensely."
I love that!
When was the last time you enjoyed something immensely?
That pastrami may not have been the very best I have ever had, but I did enjoy it immensely.