Saturday afternoon shopping - fraught with dangers

I know I SHOULD be more organised and do the groceries basically any other day of the week. I work from home, I SHOULD be able to work around a grocery trip - but every week it gets to Saturday and every week I get to the realisation that I will have to stock up or feed my family soup until Monday and therefore every Saturday I do a little list and get shopping - with varying degrees of success.

On the good weeks, I meal plan, organise my pantry, consult the specials brochures (online and paper form) and have a cracker list. We get to Softball, go to the library and then do the health food shop (always fun), the big smoke supermarket, the fruit & veg shop and the 2 local supermarkets and somehow manage to keep within budget and get nearly everything.

On the not so good weeks - we go to softball and get home, when I panic. I figure what we will eat based on what I see in the shops, I double up on things I think I might need and completely forget what was absolutely necessary, I am limited to the 2 local supermarkets and the budget gets blown with only enough good stuff for 2 days.

Guess which one yesterday's was?

It wasn't that dire - however little shops like that will strangle whatever financial sanity you have, and add a nearly 10 year old into the mix...

My gripes with the shopping yesterday, however, weren't about menu planning or meat specials or other customers lack of consideration of aisle usage or old beans.

They definitely weren't about the cutest little kids abounding on a Saturday afternoon at Local Supermarket Number 2 (the blow in). I don't think it is cluckiness, I think there just happened to be a mother-lode of cute little kids at that particular time at that particular place. One little boy was so chatty, he struck up a conversation with me whenever I was anywhere near - even though I declined his offer of a drink (he has worked out all the smooth moves before the age of 3!).

It wasn't about the gorgeous, slinky young things in backless togs and towels in the toiletries aisle - they looked to be having fun together far too much for me to work up a full grump about frumpy matrons, it just made me smile.

It wasn't the fact that my "oh my goodness how much is she growing up" girl disappeared on me for most of the shop for "her favourite aisle" (she is a stationery junkie), reappearing at opportune moments to ask "can I have some money?" (the answer to that is generally no, but she still has to try it), "what is my allowance this week?" (a sliding scale where we hope she aspired to get 100% of, and often receives less - unfortunately she remains happy at getting whatever, and so the bribery is not as effective as it should be - I blame relatives (who do not read this blog) (I hope) who blow our economy with gifts of 3 figure amounts making the 100% of our weekly aspiration look paltry)... I am loving the fact that, in Paradise the supermarkets are not so big and faceless that she can't track me nor I her and she does get a little bit of liberty... Sob, my girl is getting so grown up.

It wasn't that last week's lotto didn't give us the $400,000 I was sort of banking on to solve all financial dilemmas and build a few of our dreams, but I did invest in another chance for fate to step in and do so for us this week. The only guarantee with lotto is that if you don't enter, you will NEVER win.

It wasn't even the fact that a lady in Local Supermarket Number 1 (the original) said "excuse me" in the stock and gravies aisle and then laid her hands on the bump and rubbed - I am far more perplexed by this strange behaviour than outraged, although the whole "personal space" issue can be a bit of a hurdle for me, especially when coupled with the transgression by complete strangers (it freaks me a little when closer acquaintances do it) but she obviously felt it was important enough and did apologise beforehand.

However, there was ONE EVENT that tipped me over the edge yesterday afternoon during the shop - and I am ashamed to say I did not do what I should have done at the time about it.

'Salina had found an object of desire fitting into her budget and was quite excited by the prospect of being the owner of this object (a new notebook - just her kind of candy). I suggested she go into the express aisle for her own purchase with her own money and she was more than happy to comply.

The store was staffed - sparsely - with all very young things - nothing wrong with young things if they do their jobs, and in general there is a certain amount who do and a certain amount who don't - but it is important to note there was not one person working there who I would have called a senior staff member. It comes into play later in my melodrama.

Paradise is made up of mainly by retirees and holiday-makers - families are definitely the smaller third group. 'Salina waited patiently while a few elderly and a few out-of-towners were served. Just as her turn arrived, two teenage boys reached over her to put their purchases on the counter, and Gra#me* served them.

'Salina turned to me to say "did you see that" and I did say out loud (which can be quite) that I had seen that and it wasn't on - and for all the effect that passive aggressive action had on the young thing staff I may as well have been talking from within a plastic bubble - or at least, outside of theirs. Thwarted.

I took her under my wing and put the previous notebook amongst my purchases, scanning the store for someone senior to place a complaint with - but my search was in vain.

My own personal young thing serving me was diligently avoiding any eye contact should I wish to complain to her, and by the time I was at liberty to tackle Gra#me, he had a queue to serve and I stayed silent, defeated into seemingly mute acceptance of this display.

However... However, Mr C, the local owner of Local Supermarket Number 1 (the original) will be receiving a letter, and because Mr C is neither Young nor seeking the admiration of teenage boys above loyal customers I am truly hoping that my Saturday afternoons shall not be ruined by any Gra#me's in the future.

BTW - to those who saw my desperate Twitter last night, inspiration answered my plea and the risotto was fantastic!

My formative musical years in Toto-lity

One of our Wednesday nights rituals here is watching Spicks and Specks.

V is a whizz at most of the trivia served up, having been immersed in musical culture from a very early age. I am okay at bits of it - mainly the trivial - but there are large gaps in my knowledge even though I may have lived through the eras that are represented.

But do I ever feel dumb about this? Not really (well, not unless it is THAT WEDNESDAY that hasn't come along for a few months now) because I have an inescapeable excuse.

I can blame my upbringing.

See, while others may have grooved out to their parents extensive album collections (like V did) there was a theme running through Mum and Dad's records that didn't exactly trill "seventies style". On the upside, any Charley Pride or Val Doonican songs ever featured on SnS are a shoo in for me.

Don't take too much pity on me - after all, there were occasional glimpses of life in the outside world - "The Best of Abba" did come into the family home (this shot is 1 side of the album - the side Mum chose to display - the other side was Dad's favourite - anyone remember why?)

We did get exposure to some exceptional tomes, don't get me wrong. When our next door neighbour married, he married well - a girl with a Hot Chocolate album in her collection. My uncle's marriage brought a fantastic aunt - and some compliations that mean bubble gum music is not a completely foreign concept.

Unfortunately there were not enough eligible local bachelors nor enough funky city chicks marrying them to mean that my grassroots understanding of hip culture was all encompassing (man, I have dyslexia this morning - that came out as emcomappsing first go round).

If I had to rely on the local media I was up the creek.

Countdown was accessible via the television station we could receive (in a very grainy grey, it must be admitted. I thought Big Bird was grey for years!) but only available if we could fool our parents into letting us turn on the TV slightly earlier than the news - that was not always as easy a task as it sounds.

The local radio station had a rather limited budget, and tended to buy 1 album a year - I remember the year that they invested in Toto (and see, I always thought that the album must have been called "Africa" - its not, its Toto IV).

I just checked the Wikipedia entry on the song and had to laugh to read this:

Without a doubt Toto’s most recognizable song, "Africa" was almost omitted from the Toto IV record prior to its release. Having spent a great amount of time producing the tune, the band became so tired of the song that they didn’t want it on the album.

Without further ado, here is the earworm that defined that year for me:



Another year George Michael got the guernsey. Anyone up for a rendition of "Last Christmas"? No, me either.

The good news is that the decades after I have managed to track down and bone up on my lack of education in these areas and don't appear to be too strange when matters wander onto pop culture during that era. I can fudge it pretty well, and even manage to answer some questions and appear somewhat knowledgeable. (A secret I have just exposed - I am fairly competitive when it comes to fluff)

However, if I occasionally look at you a little strangely when you ask me to hum the opening lines to "Can't Get it out of My Head" by ELO, its because there are bits of my youth I cannot recreate (but I can tell you what ELO stands for).

When was your musical awakening? And have you ever been hip?

Using the sunlight of others to guide me...

Yet another 3.30am start here - getting boring. The worst bit really about insomnia is not the lack of sleep, its the lack of energy come 9am - you know, when I should be DOING STUFF!!!

Still, I have put it to good use this morning. Yessirree - I have me a list already (shhhh for those who may say its really yesterday's list that didn't get done) and I have found my silver lining.

We don't have daylight savings - so really, that is 4.30 in those deluded Southern states - which I have moved into my "acceptable times to be awake" category of late.

In New Zealand, it is 6.30 - that is a really reasonable time, I could just pretend to be Kiwi (except I would feel all funny about losing my vowels like that).

Its 10.30 yesterday morning where V's mum is, so I can imagine a whole 'nother day at my disposal.

Its 7.30 last night where 'Salina's grandpa lives with a good night's sleep in front of him...

Thank goodness for the internet where I found those silver linings - because the howler from the North done blown away all the clouds and its far too dark a sky to find anything!!

Insomnia came flying in on a broomstick this morning...

It is an absolute howler here - I don't know how that bird outside is twittering above the whir of the shutters as the wind, fresh from the Pacific, slices through the house and any crack it can investigate is sought.

I can also hear the washing machine. No, I haven't already been up and done a load (it is still dark outside no matter WHAT Eddie says) but the ghost beeping I heard before bed last night that I was willing to blame on imprinted memory from the beeping the three times previous on the same load was apparently the real thing.

V is lucky, industrial deafness has cured him of the ability to get completely annoyed by this new trend of the washing machine. Me, on the other hand - it rattles my psyche and although I put on a veneer of bravado and assure him (and myself) that it is a drainage issue with the tubs, there is a part of me thinking of the sagas this machine and I have shared and shuddering at the possibilities.

This is why my washing never gets completely done, you know. A front-loader is wonderful for some really good reasons - less water, clean clothes - but the downside is the time factor. Add to that a few times requiring me to press the button to stop the beeping (assuming I am here and therefore able to respond in a timely manner) and the "coupla hours" for a load can well cover half a day (or more) - times the number of loads I am having to do anyway due to the backlog, it seems EVERY DAY is washing day around here.

After a rather interesting end to the weekend involving making my daughter cry and me using a curse word for effect during my lecture (up there with my fine mothering moments - sorry Mum) both 'Salina and I have agreed that we are going to try switching our brains on as much as possible during the day and see if we can develop a new habit.

Of course, my brain switching itself on at an early hour is an old habit that does not always have beneficial side effects... I have confidence that today will be different, and I intend to go for an all or nothing approach to each hour and each task.

Obviously I am also quite delusional (probably the lack of sleep) but what are your tricks to having your brain switched ON and making the most of your day?

Mad cats and pregnant women get up in the pre-dawn light

Doesn't have quite the same ring to it as the original that I have modified to suit current conditions.

Poor Eddie is crossing his legs and climbing the walls because I am the sort of horrible cat owner that follows the "while the sky is dark the cat is in" rule. He does have kitty litter and the birds need to waken before I let the domestic tiger out. I think he might be getting a little slow for the birds, but its not something I am going to test.

Unfortunately, its not the cat who woke me. I don't know what time it was I actually awakened, but my mind started immediately to gnaw away on worries a week away and worked its way back until I threw my (metaphorical) hands in the air and cried "enough".

I would like to blame baby, but although I feel it a fair thing to throw aches, twinges, farts and forgetfulness into baby's lap, it probably isn't justified to give it the full responsibility of this morning - given that I have struggled with insomnia for years.

Anyhow - the baby update is STILL lying sideways, more a scrabbler than a kicker and getting darned heavy whichever way I lie in bed.

Not much to add - one upside to insomnia is all the extra hours to dedicate to making a to-do list, so I am off to concoct one SO MUCH BETTER than yesterday's.

Cue photos from last week for the curious.