16 boxes of granola

Not on a shelf. Not in a granola-making factory. Not residing in the vision of a granola-addicted individual.

No, 16 boxes of granola placed oh so delicately in my shopping cart. Why? Because The Hubby must have granola for breakfast AT ALL COSTS. He also has a strange little quirk in his DNA that will randomly manifest as a desire to stock up on everything and anything - should it be on sale. Add in the fact that The Hubby had been without his beloved Quakers Granola (with and without raisins) for almost a week . . . and you have a recipe for disaster. A crunchy, ruffage-filled recipe - with a dash of organic milk. I take that back. About 10 cups of organic milk.

But come on, 16 BOXES OF GRANOLA at one time??! Standing in the aisle of the local grocery store, I alternated between crying from laughter and pretending I wasn't associated with said shopping cart full of granola. Seriously, questioning/youarecrazy stares from local patrons and grocery store employees can be intimidating.

All I can say is that we need to get The Hubby into Granola-hab (rehab for Granola crazypants people) STAT. I know you're with me on this.

P.S. - The Hubby is fully aware that I've been planning to write this post about him so you can't get me in trouble. :)

the hierarchy of power. forgotten.

Sometimes I have to remind the people in my life that one day I will rule the world. And although I am not Ruler of All right now, the powers of such should be accorded to me now in anticipation of my future position. Some people ignore me. Some people laugh like they think I'm joking. The wise people listen.

So when The Shamana, one of my long-trusted advisors, commanded me to write more on this blog, I was a little taken aback. COMMAND?? What the? Come again? -shakes head in disbelief-

But because I am merciful, I will not make her life misery. I will allow her to keep her job as advisor and as punishment, will only recount to her in excruciating detail the "melted candy bar in the diaper" game sometimes played at baby showers.

Think melted Snickers, The Shamana. Melted Snickers.

because who needs size regulations in the pizza industry? not me. that's for certain.

I had never, ever seen a pizza slice that big.

I have no clue how it even fits the definition of a "slice."

Why did no one tell me that ordering two slices of pizza from this place was like ordering an entire pizza pie? I only bring this up because multiple people questioned my ordering of two slices behind my back, without informing me that one slice was enough to feed a small country. Oh the injustice! -shakes fist toward the sky-

You may be asking, "Why does it matter? Pizza is pizza. It is yummy and delish no matter what the size. In fact, the bigger the better, in my opinion."

You have a good point. That pizza was goooooooooood. Even if it was the size of my head.

um. amazing. i wish i could do that.

what if we lived in a world where the sky was orange?

I got to experience that this evening during a tennis match with Nathan . . . and let me tell you it was like God took the clearest, most pristine piece of orange stain glass and channeled every free-standing light ray available through it.

Nathan and I decided at the 11th hour this evening (a.k.a. the last hour of available light before dark) to play a little tennis match on the courts near our apartment complex. Not too far into the game, it started to rain. Problem? Not so much. Everyone who knows me also knows that I love being out in the rain. Nathan had a bit of a problem because for some reason his glasses lack Go-Go-Gadget Windshield Wipers (a fact I pointed out to him) but he still managed to keep hitting the ball - bravo, love!

Anyway, so we're playing tennis and it's raining. The sky is turning gray, purple and red in one corner of the sky and then a brilliant orange light is radiating across a whole other half of sky. And get this - there is horizontal lightening . . . AND a full rainbow across the sky! I mean, rain, rainbows, thunder, lightning, orange sky . . . it was the best tennis game ever!

Nathan and I continued to play until we decided that wet courts would be a hazard to our health. As soon as we got into his Jeep it started to downpour, which led me to re-enact the scene from Jurassic Park where they are trapped in the Jeeps and it's pouring rain and the T-Rex is attacking them.


Rain: -downpour downpour downpour-
Me: -alternates screams and T-Rex roars-
-bangs on ceiling of Jeep as if frantic to get out or as if T-Rex trying to get in-
Nathan: -in some sort of accent- "Quick, get the flares . . . or the flashlight!"
Me: -rooaaar-

Simply fantastic.

today's lunch special . . . a delicacy

Setting: Lunch Hour, Kelly's desk at work

Essential Side Note: I have a litter box under my desk because I'm allowed to bring my kitteh to work.

So, there I was, completely ravenous and looking forward to eating my nice pita sandwich with turkey and cheddar cheese. I carefully (or so I thought) unwrapped the sandwich . . . when all of a sudden it flew right out of my hands . . . and landed in the litterbox under my desk. I am not lying. Somehow it managed to curve mid-air, disassemble, and coat itself in the litter of the litter box. I still don't know how I did it.

Anyone care for some litter-encrusted turkey? Mmmm. So delish.

Needless to say, I bailed on that delicacy and went to Ellwood Thompson's instead, where I partook in some really good couscous and salad. (Seriously, their Greek style couscous is muy delicioso.)

"sweet no-thingks"

Cute Overload has done it yet again. With the owls and the cuteness. And the cuteness. And the owls. Seriously the "aaaw" factor is off the charts. Nothing like a little sweet, sweet owl love to reassure you that everything is OK.


http://mfrost.typepad.com/cute_overload/2008/06/sweet-no-tingks.html