Words this Wednesday

Just feel like a wee chat this morning.  I'm going to make some copycat Panera black bean soup in a bit.  Yum.  But first I need to find my reading glasses.  I have four pair now and they are never in the room where I need them.  I may need to go to the local drug store and buy a few more pairs and have they sitting in each room.  Kind of like having four pacifiers staged in the crib when our MYP were babies.

One of the MYP said last night, "when I picture you growing up in South Dakota, all I can picture in my mind is all of you sleeping in the same room and taking a wagon to town.  You know, just like 'Little House on the Prairie'"  I tried to explain what it was like in my day.  Even that was met with glassy eyes.  No computers or Internet.  No cell phones.  No Snapchat.  No air conditioning.  No convenience foods (at least I never saw any).  No pizza delivery (at least I never saw any).  Phones with long curly cords that got tangled if you stretched them too far.  No helmets as you rode your bikes.  Swinging on the neighbor's rusty swing set that would 'jump' if you swung too high.  Seatbelts?  Never.  We were totally inaccessible to our parents, yet they trusted us to come home alive and before it got too dark.  Life is so incredibly different now.

Last night I was sharing my memory of going grocery shopping.  We went to a store called "Prairie Market".  It only had the flatbed kind of carts where we could hop on and race each other ride even at the age of 10.  It was set up like a warehouse where the product was still in boxes.  What made it so memorable were the red grease pens that were in the front of the store.  As you shopped, you would write the prices on top of the can or whatever you were buying and the clerk would check you out entering in those prices.  Isn't that interesting?  No bar codes at that point in time.  If we were super good not crashing our racing carts , my mom would let one of us three kids pick out a treat.  Usually it was a box of cereal that wasn't healthy.  But if we were generous she would allow that 'treat' to be something for our dog Bingo.  I remember the deep satisfaction buying a box of Milk Bones and feeding them to him one by one until the box was empty.  The crunchy sounds he would make eating them was so very rewarding.  I'm certain we fed him to an untimely death.

After the grocery shopping we would head for the 'locker'.  You would go up some rickety stairs to a cold place with a wide refrigerated case of beautiful pink beef.  My mom would pick out fresh ground beef and a roast and sometimes liver (blech).  A fellow in a big white jacket with some blood stains would weigh it, wrap up the choices in white wax paper and tape with masking tape.  Then he'd check us out with an old punch-style cash register.  I don't think you can find beef like that these days around here.

Last night we were having a conversation about the future.  No, we weren't having a conversation about the future, we were having a conversation about a future husband.  She said (and I quote) "I want a husband that is intense, but not too intense.  He needs to be an easy-going husband who is willing to change his ways."  Good luck with that one sweetie.  (And yes, I ran to the other room to write that all down.  I may use it at the wedding reception if she ever does find Mr. I'm-willing-to-change Right.)

Someone texted this to me this week.  "Blessed are the flexible for they shall never get bent out of shape."  I like that.

I saw this the other day.  It feels so real as I think of my own mother and my current life as well:

And finally, you may notice on the upper-right hand of this blog there is a new poll.  Take part if you wish!  I may be switching it up every few weeks for fun.  Don't ever accuse the Chairman and Co. of getting monotonous.  Heh.