a stick of butter, a loaf of bread, crushed pineapple, and a new pen.

My black ink pen exploded all over me at the grocery store while I was crossing off items off my list. It reminded me how futile it is to make lists, because they never work for me. I always forget something. It's ridiculous. Going to the grocery store is like walking into a black hole and I lose all concept of time and space. I daydream and I'm mesmerized by the neatly stacked shelves and bright marketing. It's all like an Andy Warhol painting--in real life! I'm also easily distracted by sale items and good-looking food, too. Marketers love me because I'm the female between 34-49 head of the household who does the primary grocery shopping, so I know I'm an easy target and I'm being unfairly singled out. (Like when Kacy pointed out that we were humming along to "the cool music" in a Swiffer commercial--that's when I first realized I was now "target demographic.") I don't go to the grocery store hungry, but I'm always in the mood to eat, so there's that, too. It's all just a bad combination.

I thought I was being so great at writing a list down. And I never cross off items on my list. Just moments before, I was patting myself on my back at how organized and prepared and calm I was in this usually stressful situation. I thought is was necessary because I was doing "the week of Thanksgiving" marathon shopping. That's some serious grocery shopping and I have a lot of food expectations for this week (and I think a lot about pie) and I didn't want to have to come back to the grocery store and lose another day of my life. But I probably will and the exploding pen was my message from the universe saying, "A list!? Nice one. You're too weak to withstand my evil magnetic pull. . .You'll be back!"

So there I was next to the deli, distracted by the exotic cheeses, and my black ink pen ran down my right hand and down my list. I tried to fervently blot out my pathetically long list, but it made things worse of course. I had to guess a couple of items. I still don't know why I had crushed pineapple on my list. I think that was a misread. So now I have permanent black ink all over my hand in a cool, twisty pattern that won't wash out and when people inevitably ask me "What happened?!" (Why do people ask that--because they really don't know why ink would get on your hand or because they're making conversation?) I simply tell them that I opened a horcrux and I'm slowly dying.

The name of my blog isn't random

I've had a few "almost famous" moments. I thought I would share them here.

1. I had a crazy day--the kind where you are requested by children and children's teachers and leaders to be in a few locations at one time--and found myself one night at the Pinewood Derby at our local church building. I hate the emotional tension of these things, but since my son Owen didn't care and had fun and because there WERE NACHOS I thought the evening was a great success after a running-around-to-things-others-want-me-to-go-to-but-I-wouldn't-choose-for-myself kind of day. I drove home in my dented minivan with a car full of excitement, some balloons, a participation certificate for "Good Sportsmanship" (Last year we won "Safest Car"--we still laugh at that one), and a derby car missing a wheel, I sat down to fold laundry and watch tv (oh, the luxury!) I saw Mario Lopez on EXTRA! EXTRA! on the red carpet at the Victoria Secret Fashion Show with my brother. You know, just talking to him and asking him 'sup. So, basically we had the same day.

2. Then, this one time, I had another regular day* and I thought it was a pretty noteworthy day because I had finished all the laundry in one day which, while I'm typing this, sounds really pathetic, but I really do get a lot of joy from accomplishments like this because I'm always a little unsure if it's physically possible, with the timing of my machine and the age of my dryer, to consistently dry several loads and finish in one day. It's like a challenge I give myself--a dare I would suggest on Mythbusters or something. So when I accomplish something like that, something I didn't think physically or scientifically possible, it delights me more than it should, but I'm going with it.

Also, (feel free to skip down to the next paragraph, but I'm going to preserve this memory for my posterity) I cleaned out the dryer vent in my dryer. I thought I was cleaning it out with a bottle scrubber, but, turns out (this is the exciting part) I was packing it down! I live in such danger! So I figured it out, and grabbed out chunks of lint for a long time, messed up my wrists in the process, but felt like an Olympian athlete when I was done. Seriously, I love that kind of accomplishment. It's so satisfying! And, it cut down my drying time significantly. Again, boring, but delightful! Then I checked my email and was about to tell my family my success (we Valentine's celebrate all things clean and cleaned-out. They would have appreciated photos.) And my brother James wrote to tell me he was in Paris. At the Lenny Kravitz home which is amazing. Gorgeous. Incredible. Or so I'm told.

3. Someone suggested I write a book to Sheri Dew, who I adore, then someone else said there's no way I could because I have 5 kids. (Someone else is right. Who would do the laundry when I had a deadline? No one else can do it in one day! I have a scientific system!)

4. I was in a movie written and directed by my dear friend Daryn Tufts (Go see "My Girlfriend's Boyfriend!") but my part was cut and didn't make it in the movie. But, then again, Daryn's acting part was cut, too, and it's a really good movie, so I like to think cutting me out of the movie contributed to his art. It's part of the creative process. . . me not being in it.



*Get up, feed kids, clean up, get kids to school (repeat 3 times for 3 different schedules: middle school, elementary, kindergarten/preschool, feed kids, clean up, feed kids, clean up, put kids to bed, put them to bed again.