And the Countdown Begins

Can you believe it's February? And! It's February 2015?? Because it is....you know, in case you've been living in a cave or something. It's February now and I'm not sure how that happened. Maybe I've been living in a cave.

So what does that mean? It means we're two-thirds of the way through this assignment.

What?! ((I know!!!!!!))

In a year(ish) we will be back in the States. (That's kind of insanity.) A big part of me can't really wrap my brain around it. There's so much more I want to see and do here that I kind of feel like I want to hit the pause button. Like I need to tell some mysterious guy somewhere -- the one who kind of seems like puppet master in this scenario since he gets to decide the when's and where's....like I need to be all "hold up! Wait! I need more time!" Because really, I'm going to miss things like this...

But then there's the part of me that's all....pizza....BBQ...taaaaccoooossss. Because yeah, you can't just say "tacos". No. It's most definitely said "taaaaccoooossss". I haven't had a for real taaaaccoooo in over 2 years. (Ugh, now I'm hungry.) 

And of course I miss all of my family and friends too. I can't wait to be on the same continent as all of them. (Oh, and my dog too. I can't forget him. Even though I'm pretty sure he's going to give me pouty face and not speak to me when I see him.) Hopefully we'll live much closer than we've been before. Like, you know, a few hours away at most. (Hint hint, Mr. Puppet Master!! Are you paying attention??)

Really, if we're counting pros and cons...I'm ready. And for the record...whoever picks us up from the airport...bring food. (Preferably taaaaccoooossss!!!)

Can You Actually Say That?

So, wow. I was amazed at all the positive feedback on my censoring post. For serious. I was bracing for impact. Like some crazy old woman with an umbrella was going to come yell at me for speaking my mind. And because I said hell...and shit. I don't know why she'd have an umbrella, but I think she would.

In honor of that though (the feedback, not the hypothetical umbrella-weilding crazy lady) I thought I'd share the grocery shopping post that was going through my head the other day. (Hopefully I can still do it justice.)

I know I am a pain to go grocery shopping with. Brian has gone with me several times and always comments on it. He'll try to look at something and I will just disappear. And really, I blame my kids. Have you ever taken 3 kids, all under the age of 5, to Walmart on a Saturday? You have to be efficient and you have to move quickly. Otherwise you end up with random things in your cart that you don't want or need. Like socks with drunk looking cats on them, or 5 boxes of dairy-free coffee creamer. And if you try to put them back?? Oh, well, your children will scream bloody murder, insisting that they NEED that creamer. It could start the apocolypse if you don't buy dairy-free creamer for the coffee you don't drink.

I move quick in the store. I want my groceries and I want to get out because I don't want to be there. And I have yet to understand how anyone could mistake me for one of the chatty people. And, in all honesty, I know a lot of them are probably just trying to be nice. But for real folks, pick someone else.

I don't want to have a conversation about how crappy the quality of produce is. That's why I buy it off base - I don't like buying fruit that already looks like it went 10 rounds with a 4 year old hopped up on an espresso IV and a box of Lucky Charms. And I don't want to talk about GMO foods because that is a topic that's right up there with religion and politics and we just don't talk about it. And please don't bring up the 10 damn lunchables I've stuffed in my cart. This is such an issue for me. I've become overprotective of my lunchables like I created them and I blame Pinterest for it. It's become the new *thing* to make your kids these super awesome lunches with sandwiches shaped like stars and hearts and freaking rabbits. Um, hello random grocery store lady! I like sleep!!! Do you sleep? Because I would have to give up sleeping to make a sandwich shaped like a damn rabbit. So I give my kids lunchables.

Let's see,...what's in there today? Ooh. Looks like it's pizza. Awesome. And here's a granola bar. Andddddd....hmmmm....a pear. Merry Christmas.

Mom, it's February.

Well, Merry February then. Sweet! Lunch is done.

Again, I know I'm a pain to shop with, I know people probably think I'm rude when I just walk off while they're talking and if I could wear a sign that says "please don't talk to me - I just want to get my shit and get out of here" I totally would. But that would most definitely offend some people. I tell myself that it's less offensive to pretend I didn't notice they were talking. Or to mumble some incoherent response to a bagger's opinion on what I'm buying, or the weather. (Yes, dear bagger person, I get that the weather sucks. We all know and I don't want to talk about it.)

Maybe one day I won't be such a grouch when I shop. Then again, to stop being so grouchy I might have to find a way to enjoy grocery shopping and I don't see that happening. 

You Can't Say That!

I was having this conversation with a friend yesterday about censoring yourself and it kind of coincided with this project I’ve been working on for the last eon or so. Anyway, as I’m pretty sure I’ve told you before -- this is not my first rodeo. Or my first blog. But just so we’re clear, I’m just talking about blogs, because I’ve never been in a rodeo. (I’m digressing) So my project…the one that has taken me at least an eon, but I finally finished today ((gold star for me!!))…was to back up my old blog. You know, save all the posts & make sure I have copies of the pictures and videos & all of that before deleting it into the mysterious abyss of the internet. 

As I was backing it up, I started rereading old blog posts. This led me to rereading even older blog posts. (And now you know why it’s taken me an eon to finish this project.) And what I realized is that what I loved most about those old blogs & all those posts is that I didn’t hold back. I didn’t censor. And now? Well, I do it a lot now. And truth be told, sometimes it feels forced…writing a post like that. The ones that come the easiest are the ones that I don’t think about. I just sit down and start typing and whatever happens, happens. 

But somewhere along the way, between the last blog and this one, I started worrying too much. And yeah, for semi-good reasons because, let’s face it. I don’t like drama any more than the next person. But I got tired of people’s shocked responses -- omg, did she just say that? (Maybe.)...she doesn’t really cuss like a sailor on leave, does she?? (Yeah, she really does. Sometimes.) ….oh, you can’t say that! It’s not polite! (Well, actually…)

But I had this whole post going in my head yesterday at the commissary about how I don’t like talking to people while I’m at the commissary. I want to get my groceries and leave. And I’m very obvious about it. I don’t walk slowly…I am a woman on a mission: 1) put groceries in the cart, 2) pay for groceries, 3) get the hell out of the store. I don’t want some random person’s thoughts on why lunchables are the worst lunch choice for my children. And I don’t need the bagger’s opinion on feminine hygiene products. And sometimes when people feel the need to get chatty with me while I’m shopping, I feel like screaming at them. (In reality, I pretend like I don’t know they’re talking to me and I just walk off while they’re still talking.)

But instead of writing what I wanted to write, I censored. (And said it to my friend instead.) But I miss the old way of doing things. And the thing about it is that, yeah, when we filter we’re playing it safe. We tiptoe around so we don’t offend anyone. But really, someone is always going to be offended and you can’t please everyone. That’s kind of what I’ve been thinking about anyway. I kind of want to go back to the old way but I kind of don’t want people all up in here like “hey, lady, let’s talk about some manners…and you’re overuse of exclamation marks…and the word shit”. And I’d probably have to admit to how many times I give my kids lunchables to take to school because it’s easier than anything else. (But for the record, I make them take some fruit too. I feel like that balances out the processed junk in the lunchable.) I don’t know. Maybe I’ll keep censoring. Maybe I won’t. I’m far too indecisive.