Tag Archives: girl scout cookies

Did you ever have a day…?

18 Mar

blog image deepak chopra

Where you woke up early, and it felt like Monday but then you realized that it was actually Sunday and so you went back to sleep ignoring The Boy and his incessant drumming as well as Spouse and his incessant breathing, for two more hours?

When the Deepak Chopra book that you borrowed from the library (“What Are You Hungry For?“) fell off the nightstand and opened to page 143 which clearly states: “who cares whose fault it is?  Assigning blame does no good” at which point you forgot to yell at Spouse for not returning the book to the library on time like he said he would?  (Answer: cheese sub.)

When the superintendent cancelled school because it was too nice to be inside?

When the dentist told you that The Boy is flossing just the right amount?

When the principal called just to say hi.

When the peanut butter jar looked completely empty but, via the rubber spatula, you were able to salvage not only enough peanut butter to make an excellent sandwich for The Boy’s lunch, but also enough to make a small batch of cookies?  (Well, there would have been a small batch of cookies if the dough made it to the oven.  But still.)

Or when your neighbor invited you over to learn about reflexology and she wasn’t having a “Young Living Essential Oils” party?

Where the temperature goes above.  Just above.

When you won the lottery?  When you played the lottery?  When you thought you had eaten the last Girl Scout cookie only to find half a box of Samoas stashed in the freezer inside an empty bag of frozen mango chunks?  Score.

Did you ever have a day like that?

Me neither.

But I can dream.

Which means that I’ll have to take a nap.

I like those days.

You Dirty Rat

28 Mar

blog image ratatouille

To:  Spouse

From:  Management

Subject:  Dried Fruit Policy

When you spill dried blueberries on the floor and then, say, answer a ringing phone, or gaze out the window, what happens is this: your attention gets diverted from the dried blueberries on the floor long enough so that when you resume whatever it was you were doing before you spilled the dried blueberries on the floor, the blueberries have become a distant memory of “having at one time spilled” or “a nagging, unformed thought” that remain, in reality, dried blueberries scattered all over the floor, everywhere.

Now, those of you who have seen dried blueberries spilled on a floor are probably already aware of how dried blueberries on a floor look like rat turds in a corner.

Which is how, while searching the pantry for a Tagalong (or three), I came to screaming my head off amidst a mountain of scat. 

Convinced that we had Pixar’s “Ratatouille” (minus the cuteness and cooking skills) running rampant throughout the house, I yelled and yelled until I became weary.  Then I had two thoughts:

a movie about a gourmet restaurant with an animated rat running the kitchen- how did that even get made?

And secondly-

“I bet The Boy is eating in his room.  All those nights when he put spoons under his pillow because the teachers at school said that that’s how you get a snow day- he was probably eating yogurt with those spoons.”

Blueberry yogurt.”

“Blueberry Greek yogurt.”  (I’m not sure why I added the Greek part but it sounds ominous.)

“What if the house is now crawling with rats and we have to move and our house is condemned and we end up in the gutter?

Where there are even more rats.  Plus squirrels and rusty cans and things!

What then?  How could this happen?”

I screamed for as long as I could and as loud as I could.  (Answer: pretty long and very loud.)

I hollered right up until Spouse said “and so I guess I just forgot.”

Then it got quiet.  Eerily quiet.

So quiet and so still.

And I was so tired and so drained.

We had no choice but to go out for dinner.

We may even have to go out for dinner again tomorrow.

Effective immediately, new dried fruit policy: you spill it, you clean it and I pick the restaurant.

cc: Boy.

The More You Eat, The More You Know

14 Mar

blog image samoas


Parliamentary democracy with a unicameral legislative assembly consisting of 49 members, elected by citizens aged 21 years and over of whom 47 are matai (chiefly titleholders) and 2 (untitled) represents the part and non Samoan population. The Prime Minister selects 12 other parliamentarians to form a Cabinet. General elections are held every five years. The Human Rights Protection Party has been in power for an uninterrupted 28 years. The 1990 Village Fono Act gives village councils authority over village law and order, health and social issues.

1st January 1962 (Western) Samoa became independent from New Zealand administered UN trusteeship. The Independent State of Samoa celebrates Independence on 1st June every year.

Samoa has a Westminster legal system based on the English legal system as adopted by many of the Commonwealth countries. It is also a Parliamentary democracy where its Parliament is elected through universal suffrage every five years and a Prime Minister and Cabinet manage the day to day affairs of the country.

Samoa’s court system consists of two District courts and a Supreme Court manned by six local judges, and an Appeal Court that sits once or twice a year and is overseen by overseas judges. There is a separate Land and Titles Court that deals with matters relating to customary land ownership and ‘matai’ (chief) titles.


If we’re going to eat their cookies shouldn’t we, at least, learn something?


Thin mints: oxymoron?

Antibiotic Season

14 Feb

Because antibiotics come with a warning to avoid direct, prolonged exposure to sunlight, winter in upstate NY is definitely the best time for an infection.

Any kind of sunlight is so rare here in February that come March, when the faintest hint of green appears in our lives, when we are so desperate for kelly-tinted nourishment, we lose common sense and, in a moment of reckless abandon, double our order.

I am, of course, referring to the Girl Scout Thin Mint Cookie.

Boxes ordered so cavalierly in January- as if bleak calories count less than regular calories- are stashed away and hoarded.  Some end up in the freezer for summer, others are intended as gifts while others are hidden for those days when Mommy wants a shot of whiskey in her coffee but it’s seven-thirty in the morning and she has to drive a certain someone to Middle School.  Of course, some cookies are simply eaten.

Or is it simple?  Once the Thin Mints make it into the house, what surely follows are the marital spats over the true definition of a serving size, the discussion that, no, Keebler grasshopper cookies are not the same as the Thin Mint and if they are, in fact, that much alike, why don’t you eat the damn grasshopper cookies and leave me the Thin Mints?  And no March would be complete without “The Wasting of the Thin Mints by Crumbling Them over Ice Cream” monologue- you either want ice cream or a cookie (or seven), not both.  The world is made up of two kinds of people- be a decider.

The lack of prolonged sunshine combined with the consumption of Thin Mints followed by swimsuit guilt is enough to make a person sick.

Which is why I needed antibiotics in the first place.

I hate Girl Scouts.

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