Captive Cabbage!

 All I wanted as a simple head of cabbage, because I was running out,

but I couldn't find one on the produce shelves.

Was I missing something? (It wouldn't be the first time.)

After I looked and looked, I asked a store clerk where the cabbage was, and what do you think he said?

St. Patrick's Day is coming. A lot of traditional people like to eat corned beef and cabbage on that day, so the warehouses are hanging on to their cabbage so they'll have enough for that particular holiday.

Whoa.

Should I sell my remaining half a cabbage on the black market?

I wonder what I could get for it on eBay?

Do you like corned beef and cabbage?

After Santa Parks His Sleigh

You thought Santa parked his sleigh and hung out at the North Pole after Christmas?

Nah. He hits the streets in a red car (check out the white bearded guy on the grill!) with antlers (a bit hard to spot... subtle, yet effective) and tracks down the best after-Christmas sales!

What do you like to do after Christmas? 

Unfair Shopping With Chocolate Bunnies

I wasn't there at the scene of the shopping crime. I showed up after the fact, but the evidence is pretty compelling.

Look for yourself:

Some innocent shopper with a limited budget was doing his or her best to buy something that could fall into the "healthy" category. Peas.

Fried, salted peas.

(They're still peas.)

But then, while looking for quasi-healthy avocado dip for their crisp peas, they made a wrong turn down the (dun-dun-dun) BUNNY AISLE!

Well, what else could they do but drop the peas and pick up a chocolate rabbit?

WHAT WOULD YOU DO?

Shopping in a Paint Shirt

I have this great shirt, a former nightshirt that serves as a paint and project cover all. At the end of a recent painting project, my youngest pestered me to go to the store with him. "But I need to change."
"No you don't," he said.
"Really? You wouldn't care if I went to the store in this?" I spread my hands to show off the splattered shirt hanging nearly to my ankles.
"I don't care," he insisted. "Let's go."
So I went. In the first aisle, my son looked at me sideways and said, "You look funny."
"You're the one who didn't want me to change," I said, plucking a bag of raisin bran off the shelf and tossing it in the basket with a flourish. I figured if anybody at the grocery store cared to stare, I'd give them something to talk about.
What have you seen in the unusual clothing department lately?

Trench Coat and Soccer Sock

I didn't want to go to the store, but I had the debit card. So I was the designated payer. Disguising my disarray under a trench coat and a thick soccer sock tied around my rumpled hair (masquerading as a head band) apparently did not do the trick.
"Mom!" whispered my teenager as we wandered down the store aisle. "You look like a hobo vagrant!"
"Really?" I asked, patting my soccer sock. "Should I have tied the knot under my hair instead of on top?"
He rolled his eyes and moved four steps away from me, pretending he wasn't with me. He even offered to drive home, taking the key and leaving the store to get the car while I was at the checkout counter.
Wasn't that nice of him? And do you think he'll hurry me to the store again before I'm ready?

I read 8 books last night in pink pajamas!

by Shirley Bahlmann
One thing mentioned at the Storymaker's Conference last weekend was the need for chapter books. So I went to the local library to do some research. I was amazed at the scope of books that were listed under chapter books. Some of them were over 200 pages long! Yes, they had chapters, but, no, I don't think they were what the speakers meant when they said "chapter books." It's the transitional kind they were talking about, the ones that take readers from picture books to YA novels. I got some of those, too, and read 8 books last night. I just curled up in bed with a handful of chocolate cherries and a jug of grape juice and read and read until my 18-year-old asked me to go to WalMart with him to look at car stereos.
Now, I ask you, what do I know about car stereos? But he agreed I could come in my pink teddy bear-print pajama bottoms, so I shuffled along behind him in the store, reading as I went. I did prove useful, though. I fetched store personnel twice to answer my son's questions. I suppose that's because it's too embarrassing for a suave 18-year-old to ask for help. Better to send your mother in pink pajamas.

The Fuss Before Christmas

By Shirley Bahlmann
After Thanksgiving, I got right on track
Joining the troops for a shopping attack.
I started out happy, it was a fine day.
I had a long list, I was ready to pay.
But others were out with their shopping lists, too.
It was hard to find parking, the place was a zoo.
I managed to grab a nice Christmas ham,
But for vegetables there was just one shriveled yam.
The eggnog was missing, so prune juice instead,
With crackers and cheese to get the family fed.
With still lots of presents I needed to buy,
My feet started hurting. I wanted to cry.
The crowds were horrific, the tug of wars nasty.
They sweaters they fought over stretched out like taffy.
Toy shelves were sparse, with things that were broken
Or cheap knock off copies shipped in from Hoboken.
The clerks were all surly, the sizes all wrong.
The holiday music was sung from Hong Kong.
I finally gave up and dragged myself home.
I sat in a chair, tired clear to the bone.
I started to count all the things that I had.
If they weren’t all equal, someone might feel bad.
Well, Bradley had more things than dear little Sally.
I was short for my mother. I re-checked the talley.
I was all out of money, my credit was low.
But giving for Christmas was expected, so…
I heaved myself upward, I wasn’t yet free.
I stumbled outside past the Nativity.
Then I stopped and I turned. I stared at the child
The baby Jesus on hay that was piled
Inside a manger, the crudest of beds.
It was His birthday, yet where was my head?
Filled with the shopping, the giving, the getting,
The food I’d be feeding, the fussing and fretting.
It was His birthday. The gifts he received
Were just three in number on that Christmas Eve.
Three gifts for the Christ child, that’s all that he got.
His Christmas was simple, mine certainly was not.
I turned right around and marched back in my house.
I picked out three gifts for my children and spouse.
Three for my mother, three for my cousin.
Three was the number, not 3 or 4 dozen.
Then I made cookies from something called “scratch.”
When I taste-tested one, it was the best batch
I’d tasted since the Christmas party.
My fatigue was gone, my laughter was hearty.
To simplify Christmas was the best thing thought of.
To simplify Christmas was to emphasize love.

Happy Pink Shirt

by Shirley Bahlmann
In one single week I overheard three different people say what a wonderful Deseret Industries St. George, Utah had. "The best in the state," "the best in the country," "the best ANYWHERE."
So when I made the 4-hour drive to visit my son in St. George, I decided to visit the thrift store paved with gold. Hm. Well, it turns out is was not gold paved, gold gilded, or gold anything, unless you count the cheap paint on the velvet Elvis painting. In fact, it looked like a regular old DI to me; some trash, some treasures. I actually thought the one in Provo was better because it was bigger.
But then I started leafing through the racks, and I found a few treasures of my own. I always pick about thirty things to try on, and usually only 3 or 4 fit well enough to consider buying. I had a promising-looking pink t-shirt among my treasures, but when I put it on, the neckline plunged so low I was afraid it would end up in Antarctica.
"Mommy, that's so pretty!" my youngest son said, staring up at me as I tugged the V-neck up and up and up.
"The neckline is too low," I said.
"But, Mommy, you can wear a shirt under it," he said.
"I don't know..."
Then came the line that made me know he was a plant, a miniature D.I. salesman, "But, Mommy, it makes you look young again."
Sold.

Not So Clever Credit Card Trick

I had the greatest idea when I needed to go to the store and also needed my morning walk - I'd combine the two tasks. Trouble is, I walk with hand weights and I didn't want the burden of a handbag over one shoulder, so I tucked my credit card in my shoe. (All right, I can hear you wondering how I would carry my purchases home if I didn't want to carry anything. All I was after was an extension cord, and I planned to wear the plastic bag on my back. Yes, you can! Put an arm through one of each of the carrying handles with the bag at your back and slide the handles up to your shoulders. Let the bag hang down like a backpack and walk away!) So I got to the edge of the parking lot and one of my ankle weights fell off. (Inferior Velcro!) I was close enough to the store that I dug in the side of my shoe for the credit card. It wasn't there. I took my shoe off. It still wasn't there. With panic rising, I pulled my shoe on and hurried back along my route, scanning the ground for my lost card. A couple of times a stray turkey feather pretended to be my credit card. I prayed I'd find it, but when I got to my block I knew it was gone. Someone had picked it up, and I needed to cancel it the very second the bank opened. I popped in the front door, popped off my walking shoes, and my credit card popped out of the shoe I hadn't removed in the parking lot! Isn't it awesome when your prayers are answered so PLAINLY? (I just love it!)