Not Showing My Face...book

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nrlSkU0TFLs&feature=related
(sorry, the embed code is wrong, so i can only put up the link. but check it out. if you haven't seen it, you should.)

I'm sure everyone has seen this video clip by now. Every time I see it, I crack up. It's perfect! I've been really intrigued by facebook lately. Let me put up my apologetic disclaimer straight off: if you enjoy facebook, good for you. I don't think any less of you for using it, not that it matters what I think of you.

I just find it to be the stupidest thing ever. Alright, alright, I can see how it's a fun way to keep connected to friends and family. And I will confess that out of curiousity, I checked it out. I asked my friend to let me on his page so I could see what it was all about. And I will admit that I laughed when I saw all the ridiculous pictures he had posted on there from high school. And the comments left by old friends were even funnier. I perused through his 389 friends, and saw a lot of people that I had completely forgotten about. But it was weird. There were moms of my high school friends on there. There were people I used to babysit. There were people I hadn't given thought to in literally twenty years.

So what's the point of it all? Are you really "friends" with all those people? If your nephew's girlfriend's brother "pokes" you, do you accept just to be polite? Why do you care what these people are doing? If there is a picture from high school 15 years ago of two people making out, and everyone is joking about it, is it really funny? I mean, I would not find any humor in seeing a picture of my husband making out with some girl from high school, and reading along while everyone reminisces about it. Do you feel better about yourself when your number of friends goes up, even if you don't like half the people you're friends with?

Here's the other thing. Remember Friendster? And then MySpace? Is Facebook the upgrade from each of those? They start off fine, and then people realize they can "pimp out" their page, and their header gets glitzier, their pictures get racier, and their friends get more and more ghetto. Facebook seems to be the suburban MySpace. Like the special place middle class white folks go to get away from the vermin infiltrating their previous social networking domain.

I get that online social networking is here to stay. And like I said, I can see where it could be fun. I think part of my irritation with the whole thing is that I really don't know why I despise it so much, and I am trying to find some legitimate arguement other than "It's so gay."

But gay it is, at least to me. And I will not be joining the masses. So Poke on, all you facebookers. Enjoy whatever it is that draws you to this bizarre pastime. But when your streamlined pages get cranked out with glam, when the high schoolers take over and start showing off their anatomy, when you start whining "There goes the neighborhood", don't say I didn't warn you.

And I'm sure the online community will devastated by my absence on Facebook. But hey, at least I'm on Blogger, right?

It stands for: Come On! Overpriced Produce

As I'm sure many people do, I have strong feelings about this:























So. My issue of the moment is the CO-OP. The natural, organic, earthy-crunchy stores across the country that tout all things biodegradable and sustainable. The stores that would have you believe your produce comes from this guy:

instead of this guy:

Ever been inside one of these places? I won't lie, their little cafe serves up THE BEST pesto roll with prosciutto that I've ever tasted. But somewhere amid the aisles and aisles of all things basil, tofu and democratic (yes, Virginia, there ARE politics in the produce) you can find stuff like this:

Flaxseed. If you know what to do with this stuff, I'm seriously impressed. I think it comes in my shampoo, but apparently other people eat it. Or who knows, maybe they're making their own shampoo.

I can't do the CO-OP because I cannot afford $2.50 for a tomato. I'll have to settle for the .34cent, insecticide-covered, cancer causing variety from WinCo. What a bummer! Care for some milk? If you don't mind paying $6.00 for the hormone-free gallon, head on down to your CO-OP! Otherwise, $2.79 for the kind from the cows on steroids. O.M.G! Does that lady have a plastic sack? Yes, I'm "re-using" which is on par with the "reduce, re-use, recycle" mantra, right? Ma'am, we'll have to ask you to leave. However, if you'd like to purchase this sustainable green "mother earth" tote for $5.00, you are welcome to use it to carry the 7 grocery items that actually fit into it out to your car.

How do people fall prey to this scam? Do they really feel that much better about themselves because they pay 9 times what I do for their groceries? If their kids behave well during grocery shopping, are they promised some of these?:

"Yes, honey, I WILL buy you some carob-coated raisins, but if you ask me again, the answer is NO."

I don't get it. I really don't. I've been living off of regular grocery food for about 35 years now, and frankly, I'm doin' alright. My farmers may not hug my eggplant before they ship it to me, but I'm also fairly certain they don't poison it either. I mean, I'm still alive, right?

Pillow Talk

So the other night Skip and I were laying in bed, and I mentioned I was noticing a nice change in my legs and backside since restarting at the gym. Just some toning, some firming going on. He informed me that I had already mentioned this to him, and insinuated that perhaps I was a teensy bit vain.

Feeling stung, and wanting to dig my way out of any ill-perceived vanity, the following conversation ensued:

A: Did I ever tell you that I used to wear headgear?

B: Yeah, I think you mentioned that before.

A: You know, the kind that straps around your head. It was hideous.

B: Mm-hmm.

A: Yeah, I had braces AND headgear. Not pretty.

B: I imagine.

A: I refused to wear it out in public.

B: That's because you're vain.

A: I am NOT vain! If I had been wearing headgear on our first date, would you have still been interested in me?

B: Ahhh... No.

A: WHAT!?!

B: Sorry babe. That's a no.

A: But what if I was still an attractive 34 year old woman, with nice legs and long, blond hair?

B: Ain't happenin baby.

A: Seriously? Even if I had the same sense of humor and we totally clicked like we do now?

B: Nah.

A: What if we had met online, and you were really drawn to me as a person before you knew about the headgear?

B: Then you would've been misleading me, and I probably wouldn't like you anymore.

A: THAT IS SO SHALLOW! YOU ARE SO VAIN! You wouldn't want to be seen with me just because I had on headgear?

B: Goodnight, baby. Sleep well.

A: silent pouting; exaggerated tossing and turning; occasional loud sighs

B: You're beautiful.

A: happy, vanity and pride fully restored: Thanks B. Love you.

And so it goes. But come on. Is there really something so wrong with this:

that can't be overcome with this:

The Wrath of Khandrea

Isn't it a delicious coincidence that my name is pronounced AHNdrea, thus spawning the outlandishly clever title of my post?

So, um, no thanks to the majority of you, I lost the battle. Look what came in our mailbox the other day from Netflix:

While I realize most of you were probably just trying to promote our marital harmony by suggesting I watch this with my husband, frankly, I'm appalled at the lack of solidarity amongst the female crew. I mean, sure we expected Brent and Steve to side with Skip. I was sure they had probably even watched it and enjoyed it as well. But LADIES! Are you KIDDING ME? Some of you even came out as closet trekkies. Shameful.

My favorite comment was from Tiff.

I would have to say that you should at least try to watch your husband's favorite movie. Maybe you could staple your eyelids open before the movie starts to make him feel really good about it.

She was onto something there. So staple I did, and here's what I learned from the experience:

Men can have too much of a good thing, and they can actually make me feel naughty for looking.

I can take the weight off and KEEP IT OFF! Just ask Jenny.

The negotiator can always search for the lowest fares.

Apparently, he was beamed up from Witch Mountain... where he successfully escaped to in the mid-70's.

If you don't show up at his wedding just because he's gay and you oppose his lifestyle, he will be really mad at you.

My husband makes good nachos, and thank goodness for that because at least I have something memorable from the evening.

*In all fairness, I didn't HATE the movie. I just couldn't get past the fact that everyone in it now does endorsements of some kind or another. It's one thing if you do endorsements in conjunction with a healthy career. But when you get to a point where endorsements ARE your career, it may imply you've been in a total bomb of a movie at some time in your life. I will say this much: It was definitely better than The Women.

From Bikini Top to Melon Ballers

Holy Smokes on the previous post. There's a follow up in the works, to be released later this week. Until then...

Age 19: Biggest concern- have I worn the same bikini top too often this week? Have I rotated through the collection enough?

Age 35: Biggest concern- the sunburns I incurred from said bikini tops are now filling me with regret and irritation.

Yeah. When you're young, carefree, in college... your day wardrobe consists of a lot of bikini tops. There doesn't even really have to be water around. You just throw on the shorts and the top, and head out to play in the sun. You haven't birthed or nursed children yet, so you wear it well. Hopefully all the guys you're hanging out with will feel the same way, and you can score some free barbecue. Oh, and let's not forget all the time spent in the tanning bed. SPF? WTF?!

With the wisdom of age, I can now look back and wonder what the hell I was actually trying to achieve. A less-lighter shade of pale perhaps? Dimming the glare? Ecru, at best. I mean, come on people. When we talk about "white" folk, I am the poster child.

So funny thing, I've had this funky anomaly on my back for a month now. I'll spare you the gory details, but suffice it to say the time came to see a medical professional. As said medical professional is poring over my back, she casually asks me, "Have you had many sunburns in your life?" My mind is racing: Do I give a smart-mouth remark about how I'm both super-white AND vain, or do I just say "Yes ma'am." I opt for the latter. Next words out of her medical professional mouth are, "Well we'll just go ahead and cut this thing off and send it in."

HOLD UP, WAIT A MINUTE, AIN'T NOTHIN BUT TUTTI-FRUITY, said Salt-n-Pepa. We don't just throw around the term "cut this thing off" when referencing body parts.

...Or do we?

As it turns out, we do. I said, "I have only got 30 minutes before I have to pick my children up from school." Twenty minutes and three stitches later I was redressing, staring at a funky looking chunk of myself floating in a jar of antiseptic.

This is as much as you're gonna see of it:



The moral of the story is: yes, you were hot at 19. Now, your skin is melon-balled right off your body in time for you to pick up your children from school. Don't forget to borrow your five year old's SPF 50. No shame in wearing a Water Babies product.

Some Sort of Mars and Venus Encounter

So here's a little guest post from my husband. Apparently he has an "opinion" that he'd like to share. And apparently he would like you all to BACK said "opinion". For the record, I hate Star Trek. And also, for the record, I feel that even though The Women was a STUPID movie, we watched it together because the man loves me, and knows who butters his bread.

I mean, I'm just sayn.

Anyway... Here's what the man had to say:

I just want to comment on the “The Women” post. First off Shally, really? You kinda liked it? That’s like saying I kinda like having my eyelids stapled to my forehead and being forced to watch one-legged midgets box with one arm tied behind their backs. But I’ll let you slide on this because you hooked me up with the camera lens info. Second, this movie was bad for a lot of reasons but I think it came down to the fact that there were no men in the movie. Oh there were references to men, but not a single one to be seen in the whole movie. Believe me, I looked (how do you think I made it through the 114 minutes?)

Having said that, I think that I should be rewarded for watching that movie, and my reward should be Andrea watching what is, in my opinion, the opposite of a movie with no men. That movie is (wait for it) “Star Trek II, The Wrath of Khan”. Andrea is running from this movie, but I feel she owes me on this one. How can she resist the sophisticated Latin lover Ricardo Montalban as the genetically enhanced Khan? And the man that needs no enhancing, William Shatner, as James Tiberious Kirk? Come on people, help me out here! I’m leaving it in your hands. All you have to do is nay or yea and we’ll take it from there.

Lastly, thanks to all those who gave me props for hanging in there and for Paige who was waiting for something to happen. Something did happen, the movie got worse.

PS: Steve, as the only other male who openly reads my wife's blog, I'm counting on you to have my back.

Soft Pretzels and Deep Doctrine

I have the opportunity to be present in an elementary school cafeteria every day. Sometimes, I sit and observe the kids while they eat.


Today they had soft pretzels with nacho cheese dip for lunch. They seemed to enjoy it, and the fine cuisine allowed conversation to flow freely. Here's what I heard:


BOY (to girl): So Jesus lives in heaven with his parents. Didja know that?
GIRL: No.
BOY: Oh yeah. He's up there with them.
GIRL: That isn't real.
BOY: OHYESITIS! Are you kidding? He doesn't have a wife though. Just Jesus and his mom and dad.
GIRL: There's no such thing as Jesus.
BOY: Um, yeah there iiiiiiis. Duh. And pretty soon sometime I don't really know when, he's gonna come back and get all of us and take us to heaven with him.
GIRL: Nuh-uh.
BOY: Yeah-huh. And since you don't believe in him, you're gonna be in big trouble because he's gonna make you invisible.
GIRL: WHAT?!



BOY: Yeah. Jesus is coming in a big cloud. And everyone who believes in him gets to go back up to heaven with him. And everyone who doesn't believe in him gets made invisible and then they have to go YOU-KNOW-WHERE. Plus, if you get to go with him, he's gonna give you a new body. I'm gonna try and get a Chinese one.
GIRL: Well then you can't talk to anyone because no one knows how to talk Chinese.
BOY: No, he's gonna make it so everyone can talk the same language.
GIRL: You're making all this up.
BOY: EVERYONE AT THIS TABLE WHO BELIEVES IN JESUS RAISE YOUR HAND!
most hands go up
BOY: See. I told you it's real. Everyone knows it. You must not be a Christian.
GIRL: I don't even know what that is. Wanna play chase at recess?
BOY: Yeah.

Save Yourself The Time...

As Skip so eloquently put it, "Well THAT'S two hours of my life I can never get back..."

We watched this movie last night. You know how sometimes a movie starts off "slow" but you keep watching, in hopes that it will pick up?

This movie was sort of like that. Minus the part where it ever picks up.

I was so excited about the cast. With the exception of Debra Messing, whom I find annoying and over-exaggerated, I really like everyone in the cast. But the storyline was so weak, and the roles were so staged, I could hardly stand the fact that I committed myself to watching the entire thing.

Jada Pinkett Smith is one cool chick. I am impressed with her seemingly stable celebrity marriage. She appears to be a nice person. Except when she's playing a rough-around-the-edges lesbian who hangs out with rich white girls. She was like a piece of a puzzle that got put away in the wrong box. And it was annoying.

Annette Bening was supposed to be a ruthless executive trying to hold onto her job. In reality, she was a spineless fluke. Eva Mendes tried to come off as an overly-confident man stealer. It was hard to see her as confident when she lost the man and opted for a woman instead. Debra Messing I just can't stand. I've always felt Will and Grace should've been called Karen and Jack. In this movie, she was confusing and lost in her role as an artsy baby-making-machine.

Meg Ryan was stunning. I cannot get over the fact that she is 63 years old. There's no way! She doesn't look a day over 45. But even her ageless beauty wasn't enough to carry the movie. She was the only character whose story and emotions were even semi-convincing, but by the time I realized how likeable she was, I was half asleep.

Hopefully you haven't already wasted your money on this film. I'm no film critic, but I figured I'd do the world a favor and make it known that this one is not worth even Netflixing.

*Post note: I am actually an idiot, yes. We looked up Meg Ryan's birthdate after the movie, and we read it wrong. We were probably still in a total brain fart from watching this stupid movie. Thanks, Lisa, for the correction. It was 1961, making her almost 48. Now that I can handle.

...And Fun Was Had By All.

So we decided to have a party for New Year's Eve. Our kids are all gone, so we figured we'd try the grown-up thing. Surprisingly, we still remember how to interact with other adults when there is no Polly Pockets or Transformers theme involved.

First off, this guy was running the bar. And he did a very good job. So good, in fact, that he was a BIT paranoid about my intrusion as an attempted barmaid, and quickly shooed me away when I tried to start pouring drinks. Jeeze. Some people.


A couple of Blokes got together and played an intensely "scientific" (right Mel?) game of strategy. Notice the men in deep thought as the youngest party guest takes his turn.



The night got crazy when the tin man showed up...

...along with his slightly confused tin man friend.

We had this brilliant idea to buy party hats. We figured no one would wear them because, well, they look so stupid. Everyone wore them. And suddenly, we wondered just how rude it would be if the hosts declined the "stupid" look.
*Note our friend Mark in the shirt and tie, very overdressed for the party. He is the bishop of our church, and in spite of his "explanation" that he had come straight from a youth dance, we realize that frankly, he just doesn't know how to dress down anymore. Honestly, does he even own casual clothes???


We had a really super time, and at midnight I got to make out a little with this guy. I mean, really though, how much making out can you actually do with your bishop sitting next to you???

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!!

Welcome Winter

We finally got our first snow. I love it.
If you click on the first picture, you can see the most beautiful glint of sunlight on the top of the tree branch.

Get back with me in three days when I'm taking pictures of brown slush and raw fingers.

Dontcha Know I Love You, Sweet Sadie...

So I had this little reality slap last week. The harsh truth of the aging process was thrown right at me. Observe this picture:


This is my college roommate and BFF Tiffany. She is one in a million. Here you can see Brandi, Tiffany and me. One of us is in labor. Two of us are there to lend moral support and possibly catch a flying newborn. Ah, good times. Good times.

This was my first experience with childbirth, and it was eye-opening to say the least. Wow. I can't believe I went on to have any of my own. Tiff was great though, and her beautiful daughter Sadie was born that day. That day was twelve years ago. TWELVE YEARS, people!

Wasn't she a gorgeous little newborn? I was quite the midwife. I stood there and stared at my poor exposed friend and thought HOLY CRAP, THAT MUST HURT LIKE HELL. I vaguely remember Tiff screaming at me not to look anymore, maybe she was afraid I was going to pass out.
So a few months down the road, Tiff was ready to start back to school. She needed a babysitter. I was up for the job. Or so I thought. What I really was up for was a total wardrobe and hair makeover, but that's another story in and of itself.

So I got to babysit the cutest little thing on earth. And Sweet Mother of Abraham Lincoln, that child could scream! My starkest memory is still being in sweatpants in the middle of the day, and wanting to take a shower and "do my hair" (we see how that worked out for me). I had to sit Sadie on the floor of the bathroom, and I kept sticking my head out the shower curtain saying, "Hey! Could you please stop screaming?" She didn't obey. Obviously I wasn't really ready for parenthood. Maybe not even really ready for babysitting.

Here is Sadie, a few years later, holding my newborn. Oh, my SCREAMING newborn. I guess they all do that. Who knew! Thanks for breaking me in, little girl.

Sadie is now twelve. She is absolutely stunning. She is athletic and smart; she sings, travels, and makes killer Valentine cards. She lives with her mom and dad and now has three siblings. I don't offer to babysit any of them, because Sadie broke me.

I can't believe she is twelve. Those years flew by literally in the blink of an eye. I also can't believe her mom used an upside down five instead of a two on her birthday burrito.

I love you Sadie!! I'm so proud of you and love hearing about all of your accomplishments. Happy Birthday!!

Clarity

We have an extremely talented congregation when it comes to music in my church. Today the choir gave their Christmas program, and it was something else. It was very emotional for me, probably for a lot of reasons. The first reason is likely because I chose to wear a full face of makeup today, so Murphy's law would require me to cry excessively and ruin it.

But there are other, less shallow reasons as well.

As you may or may not know, both my husband and I have just finished fairly intense legal negotiations with our ex-spouses. It has been an exhausting and seemingly endless process. There was a lot of negativity on everyone's part, and that is very draining. I think we have these ideals of how we hope everything can be... people working together to do what's best for our children; putting past issues in the past; open communication. These things do not often happen, and it can be discouraging.

I am also afraid I may have reinjured my back sometime in the past couple of days. This, to me, is terrifying. When my pain was at its worst about a year and a half ago, I could only crawl for the first hour or two of every day. It was pathetic, intense, and very depressing. I was on a lot of medication, which really screwed with my system (oxycontin, anyone?). I found my limitations to be more than my active self could stand. Not to sound dramatic here, but regaining normalcy felt like a miracle to me. When I felt some of this pain resurface this weekend, it really scared me, because I do not want to go through that whole process again.

All things considered, I have felt a little stressed out lately. But today in church, our choir sang a song called "And His Name Shall Be Called Wonderful". Their voices were so beautiful, and the message of the song was so touching to me, that I literally felt those burdens lifted from my heart. I don't have experiences like this very often. So when I have them, they are precious to me. The song says,
Unto us on this holy night

Unto us beneath a new star's light

Unto us where the lambs have fed

Gently laid in a manger bed

Unto us a child is born

Unto us a son is given

And his name shall be called Wonderful

For the world will be healed by his power

He will be our unfailing Counselor

In each uncertain hour

Those last lines touched me the most. He will be our unfailing Counselor in each uncertain hour. My hours of uncertainty have been many, and my need for counsel has been great. But so often I have not sought Him whose counsel would most guide me. I understand that a mere belief in God and Christ will not give me a life void of trial. But my ability to rise above those trials is so clearly tied into the level of faith I maintain; why is that so difficult at times to remember and apply?

I am thankful that the Lord is keenly aware of me. He knows my fears, my struggles, and the things that make my heart hurt. And today, for a brief moment, they were all removed and there was a simple yet powerful peace in their place. It's as if I had the clarity of eternity; of understanding that these things really don't matter in the long run. They are a part of my life, and they probably won't just go away. But the birth of a baby- a simple birth which brought us the Savior of the world, gave to me an unfailing Counselor for those uncertain hours. What a blessing; what a reason to give thanks.

I Cannot Go To School Today, Said Little Peggy Ann McKay

So. Here I am, home sick. Couldn't go in to work today because I am probably contagious. And unlike some supermoms named Martha who can still accomplish the extraordinary while violently ill, I become a useless mass of nothing. Observe with me the anatomy of my sickroom:

1. Extra comforter. Key component in my attempt to "sweat it out".

2. Laptop. If I'm not leaving bed all day, I gotta have something to do.

3. Sucrets. As my adoring husband so kindly pointed out this morning, those are not actually breath mints, and I may want to consider adding some to my side table.

4. Water: I'm flushing my system. Only it seems to be missing the key area of my sinus cavities.

5. Nasal Four: The spray that keeps me among the living. Literally. I refuse to breathe through my mouth. I find it repulsive, plus it hurts my throat. However, my nose will not actually perform that function for me at this point in time, so I have to coax it along with some decongestant spray.

6. Kleenex: I asked my husband if he could sneak away for lunch today. He said yes. I said, "That's great, because I'm almost out of Kleenex. I'd like you to stop at the store and pick me up some Puffs with Vicks Vapor in them. Thanks." He's such a lamb.

7. Theraflu Warming Relief, Orange Flavor: Dose it up, baby! I just keep a little shotglass on the nightstand. Watch out for the worm.

8. Cell Phone: People like me to call when I'm sick. They like to hear all about it. Especially my husband. Actually, he prefers I call, even when he's in the living room... that way he can avoid my sinus/sucret breath.

9. Bath and Body Works Softest Robe Ever: I'm considering wearing it down to the mailbox to send my Christmas cards today. I can't take it off. It's like a second skin.

10. Extra Pillow: Propping up assists with drainage. This is important. Also, I can type better if I'm propped up.

NOT PICTURED:

-My Vicks Warm Mist Vaporizer. A good cleansing steam contributes to the flushing out process.

-My Vicks Vaporub Mentholatum: I put some on last night, my husband pointed out that it was sort of the antithesis of the Almond Vanilla Warming Massage Oil. He then pointed out that the use of Vaporub was a good indicator that we would be going straight to bed. Sorry to disappoint, my love. Vaporub = no lovn tonight.

So there you have it. I sent my kids off to school today, and I am comfortably quarantined in my sick bay. I think I'll take a nap now.

Riddle Me This...

So. This is me. Laying on the couch, feeling pretty proud of myself. I went to the gym today. My super amazing husband got me a membership for our anniversary this month. I've been dying to go, but as I've mentioned ad nauseum, I have back problems. So I quit exercising about 2 years ago when they first began. The back problems have more or less subsided, however the exercise has not resumed. Sure we did some biking and hiking this year, but I'm talking regularly scheduled body-toning, firming, sculpting, shaping, cardio-enhancing exercise. You know the kind of which I speak. The kind where you don't have to wait for the kids to catch up. The kind where you can put on your Ludacris and not worry you won't hear if a kid falls off the bike, or worse yet... off the mountain. Uninterrupted, unadulterated, self-serving exercise.
OH how I love it!!!

However... there is something that needs discussing. I may be a weirdo, but I have serious issues with locker room exposure. My husband showers daily with other men. It doesn't phase any of them in the slightest. I find it completely bizarre. Let me clarify that by saying after they do PT, the cadre all shower in the same locker room. He doesn't just randomly shower with men for fun. Hmmm... This is going nowhere really fast. Back to the topic at hand...
The women's locker room. I like my body. I do. There are a few things I would tweak here or there, but over all, I'm very satisfied with things. But I do not want other people looking at me in my underwear, or worse yet, out of my underwear. But I have this theory that I am the only one on earth who feels that way. Or at least certainly the only one in the locker room. I have to go into the bathroom to change. Meanwhile, there is a literal smorgasbord of mostly unclothed women standing out in the locker area, just doing their thing. They don't seem concerned that their bodies aren't firm, their hooters hit their navels, or that their underwear is not at all cute.
Now before anyone goes and gets all insulted here, I'm not knocking body types. I'm just saying I don't want to see them. Any of them. And I cannot fathom why more people don't feel this way. What is wrong with a little privacy? Good for you!, people... at the gym, taking care of health and wellness! WOO! But why celebrate with near-nudity? WHY? Why is it socially acceptable to be naked around total strangers, or even people you know, just because you are in a locker room? If you were showering at home and a friend stopped by, you wouldn't invite them to join you. Or if you were changing clothes and a friend stopped by, you would likely say "HANG ON! I'LL BE RIGHT OUT!" rather than saying "Hey! I'm changing! Come on in and join me!"

Can we PLEASE apply these same principles to the locker room? Please? Is that asking too much?

"It's a Wrap... Just in Time For Christmas." i crack myself up.

In the immortal words of DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince...
"DRUMS PLEASE!"

I'm done. Well, sort of done. I absolutely cannot find time to go to the commissary. I did, however, compare Costco and Winco (the local supermarket). Winco is in green, Costco in blue. Because I'm a nerd.
Here's the skinny. You can usually shop for cheaper at the local supermarket if you buy the store brand. I am not above buying the store brand on some things, but there are others on which I simply cannot compromise. Everyone's different, so while generic green beans are a good deal for me, "Toasted Oat Rings" cannot take the place of Cheerios in my bowl. That said, it absolutely comes down to the items you want, and where you are willing to cut corners. I could have saved money buying syrup at Costco, but I can only buy the 45 gallon bottle there. Seriously... have you seen their syrup? Who uses that much? If you do, Costco is where you need to buy.
I bought about half of what I needed at Costco, and spent $126. I anticipate I can buy the remainder of what I need at Winco for about the same amount. That will give me three months' worth of meals for about $300. That's $100 a month... pretty cheap insurance.

*For some reason, Spagetti noodles got cut off. They were $1.78 for a 2 lb bag at Winco. Pretty good. Anything left blank means they didn't carry it at Costco, or I couldn't find exactly what I was looking for. We have sensitive skin here, so the soap will be a special buy.

If I make it to the commissary ever, I'll post my findings. But for now, consider my tutorial finalized. I have shown you how to pick what your family eats, break it down into ingredients, and comparison shop for the best deal. I have shown you how you can feed your family (and wash their hair, brush their teeth and clean their bodies) in a time of crisis for a three month period. I've also accomplished it all for around $300. It really isn't as overwhelming and complicated as it's often portrayed to be. No sprouting wheat germ to obtain vitamin c. And at the rate our government is bailing out failing companies, when you or your spouse become unemployed, don't expect Uncle Sam to have any money left to help you out. You'll be wishing there was any such thing as government cheese.