Many of you were disheartened by the thought of never again hearing stories of the Chex Mix Guy (CMG). Your comments on that last post were quite entertaining and endearing. For instance:
“I can’t believe this ends the Tale of the CMG! Sequel? prequel??”
“Oh, no! This can’t be the end! It can’t!”
“He’ll miss you. One day he will wake up and wonder ‘What ever happened to Crazy Chex Mix Lady?’”
And of course my favorite: “Who wouldn’t miss CCML??”
Happy Chex Mix
Since I hate to let you down, this happened… (Just remember that I do all of this for you, my dear Blog Buddies.)
Last week I loaded my cart, and, surprised to see CMG slumming it at the check stands with lowly riffraff customers, rather than in his ivory managerial tower, I headed to his lane. It was the express lane. There wasn’t an overtly posted sign about the item limit, though I knew whatever the limit was, I was over it.
I didn’t care. Normally I would care, but with this guy, I didn’t care. Read the rest of this entry
Joe was in his high chair. Not eating. I told him to take a bite. He leaned his head against the back of his chair, closed his eyes, and faked heavy sleep breathing.
First of all, when and how did he learn this?!
I said, “Should I take you to bed then?”
Still with his eyes closed, he lifted his pointer finger as in “one minute.”
Seriously, kid? So much for being asleep.
Delicious looking plate of green beans. That I didn’t cook, hence looking delicious. Image by Vu DOAN from Pixabay
When my parents were here for Christmas, Joe said, “I don’t need these green beans.”
My mom, trying to be helpful, said, “Green beans are my favorite!”
Joe said, “You can eat them then.”
Joe loves going outside. The problem is, Read the rest of this entry
I recently started taking Chex Mix with me to parties–a sure fire way of being invited back. Since there were a lot of parties for the holidays, I ran out and hit my local store to replenish my supplies. The Chex Mix Guy (CMG) had ordered a box of both Cheddar and Honey Nut for me back in October, housing them in his office, while I slowly chipped away at them.
Crying Chex Mix
Amidst the regular shopping I did first, I glanced down at the Chex Mix shelf and saw, amongst the black and blue of Bold and Boring (aka Traditional) the golden hues of my sacred flavors.
I marched to the customer service desk and asked the lady to call CMG’s office. She got him on the phone and relayed the message: “A customer wants to know if you put out all of her Chex Mix.”
Here I’m grinning stupidly, thinking this must be one of the most bizarre statements this woman has ever made. That, and I’m imagining what CMG’s reaction must be.
After a pause, she says, “Okay,” hangs up, and tells me, “He’ll be right down.” Read the rest of this entry
Every year we go to my brother and sister-in-law’s for the holiday. Every year we get stressed out and have the same conversation at a frenetic pace.
“We should’ve started the potatoes sooner. They’re not going to be done in time.”
Thanks for the pic Pixabay.
“Where’s the box to carry the food?”
“The ham juice is going to leak when we drive down the hill.”
“What are we forgetting?”
“Did you grab the [fill in the blank]?”
“I think we have everything now. Kids, get in the car!”
“We should’ve left already!”
This year the insanity was punctuated by Read the rest of this entry
Awful or awfully funny? You decide. Let me know in the comments.
We had guests over Sunday afternoon. One graciously explained to us about different phone plans. And providers. And phones themselves. And frequencies. And something about company buyouts. Plus a lot of numbers were being bandied about.
In other words, I was completely lost by about the third sentence. Maybe second.
Meanwhile, my children sat in the room with us listening patiently. Or so I thought.
When the dear fellow was finished downloading us with all this information, my youngest daughter said, “Finally. I wondered if he was breathing between words.”
I’m not sure if any of the adults in the room have laughed that hard in a long time.
Queen of spades courtesy of pixabay.
Except perhaps when we were playing the card game Tripoli and another daughter, not well-versed in the various suit names, laid down “the queen of hoes.”
After drying our eyes on our sleeves, we informed her that it is actually called the queen of spades.
Of course we try to teach our children manners.
Little Joe asked me for a bagel.
“Did you say, please?” I asked him pointedly. Read the rest of this entry
Last week I wrote about my failed attempt to get serious writing done at home. The following week, I decided to venture back to the library.
Instead of sitting in the back corner in the section marked “Silent Zone,” I found a more central area, not directly under the AC, that was, at least initially, quiet.
Then someone I couldn’t see carried on a phone conversation at full volume. Minutes later, a librarian, of all people, explained to a patron the organizational system of the book stacks at even greater volume. And finally, an older gentleman asked if the seat next to me was taken. When I said no, he responded, “Now it is,” and plunked down with a waft of week-old body odor, dropped his pile of newspapers next to him, then crinkled through them one by one, all the while taking rattling breaths that twice made me check to be sure he hadn’t actually fallen asleep and was snoring. Read the rest of this entry
I’ve previously written about my difficulty finding a quiet place away from the house to work without fear of freezing or minor theft. But since that didn’t happen at the library, I decided to just stay home.
I got cozy and warm under a blanket on my bed with my laptop snuggled on my lap. The house was quiet. Joe was napping. The girls were reading. I was being productive.
Then Joe woke up. Read the rest of this entry