15. SHELAC.

It's a manicure that lasts for 14 days. Do I really need to say anything else?



Ok, fine, I will. I swear Shelac is not paying my rent or anything, but they should for the ammount of free advertising I provide them with. A co-worker of mine (and former beautician) got a "two-week manicure" for her wedding, and when she got back from her honeymoon they were still on...and beautiful!! It's not fake nails, it's literally just nail-polish. It's applied in layers and UV-light cured to make it set, and while it a but thicker than traditional nail polish, it still feels natural. I've been a devotee since she told me about them, and while I have gone to several locations and made some mistakes, it's still something I feel is worth spending money on.

I normally just get a neutral shade, but it helps my nails grow out and look oh-so-fabulouso whilst doing so. This is the first time I've enjoyed color on my nails; I used to think it was pointless to paint your fingernails since it chipped so quickly, but now I see the allure.



This is a highly suggest, if you have the cash. It runs about $30-$35 for the first time, then if you maintain a semi-regular schedule it's $25 to get them re-done. And Shelac, I accept cash or credit, thank you.

15. THIS PRETTY BEAUTY TREAT LETS ME BE MY MESSY, ACCIDENT-PRONE SELF WITHOUT WORRYING I'LL WRECK MY MANICURE AND WASTE MY MONEY.

14. PORCELAIN PRIDE.

I have it.

Yes, reader(s?), I have returned. Not on my beloved list of things is being task-oriented, or following-through. But it is on a list of wants or aspirations. Also on that list is a 10K, but I DO believe in miracles!



So, back to my porcelain pride: I, as you may have gathered, am quite the fair-skinned lady. Being of mostly Scandinavian descent, after logging some solar time my skin turns a pleasant shade of pink before it peels off to reveal a shiny, blindingly white layer of Irish-Girl-Alabaster. It wasn't always like this! I use to be just another sun-streaked, dirty-tan swimmer, proudly wearing my x-marks-the spot-tan-lines earned from 2 practices a day. But after a brief prom-induced tanning bed phase, I became sick of laying in other peoples sweat/dead skin cells and feeling my contacts glue themselves to my eyes from the bed's rays. Being too cool/busy to swim in the summers, my skin was quickly growing accustomed to this new shade of white.

I once read an article about skincare where the question of true skin color was posed..."What is my natural skin color? What color should my skin be?" And the answer was, "The color of your backside." I kid you not. It makes sense that your (hopefully) unexposed skin is your intended shade, and that has been my motto ever since. And if you don't like it, you can kiss my pasty white-...everything, I guess.

Now I embrace it. I have "enhanced" red hair (ok, fine, I dye it), and am a sunscreen devotee. I figure as long as I'm not intentially scorching my skin, I might as well go the whole 9 yards and embrace it, and also embrace the daily sunscreen routine that I am almost sure I'll be thankful for in 10+ years.

Sure, my shade is a running joke for most of my friends, but a large portion of the jokes are made by yours truly. Truth is, while sometimes I long for tan skin, it's not enough to log the hours in the sun or put my health in danger. One of my favorite anecdotes to share is the one where I was singing a duet with my roommate for her senior show, and I appeared onstage next to her in a black dress (short, lots of leg and lots of skin). As soon as the lights hit me, our mutual voice teacher yelled, "Stop! Stop! Erin...your legs are SHOCKINGLY white." And said as if I had all at once overwhelmed/stunned/amazed her at the sheer whiteness of my legs, and would you please buy some nylons before the opening? I love that story. But, the real kicker is that that same fair-skinned voice teacher is in her mid to late thirties and still playing teenagers in shows! Granted, she's pushing it a bit and it's opera, but STILL!!



So, here's to all my dainty-dermis'd dames! We shall have the last laugh and look hot doing it!

(No offense to my tan sistas, I'm not-so-secretly jealous of your ability to change skin color...you're fabulous too!)

14. HAVING FAIR SKIN MAKES ME HAPPY. IT MAKES ME FEEL DIFFERENT, SMART AND JUST A LITTLE BIT CLASSY.

13. MERMAID CARWASH.

This is one of the most vivid smells from my childhood. And by smell, I mean memory. But really I mean smell, because that's how most of my memories are logged anyhow. My family took car trips into Madison (WI) almost every weekend, and this was one of our many traditional stops. Now, I like a good car-wash as much as the next Joe, but Mermaid Car Wash just has that special something.

This car-wash feels like an downright adventure! First, you eagerly wait in line behind other cars, slowly approaching the Mer-man who takes your vehicular-cleaning order. After you make your selection, he writes some illegible, incredibly-fresh-smelling mermaid hieroglyphics on your windshield that lets the Mer-men inside know what you want done to your car. And then you exit your car. Yes, I know...it's insanity. You leave your car with the Mer-men and watch through large windows as they guide your car through the various stages of cleaning, and you're again surrounded with scents straight from an oceanic dream.

And there's a parrot inside the car-wash. A PARROT! He's a bit cranky, but he can sometimes be persuaded to say things! You might as well be in The Pirates of the Caribbean, that's how exotic this feels.

I've only gotten my car washed once this winter. Not because I don't love her, but because she gets un-shiny so very quickly without off-street parking, and she tends to feel self-conscious about her bumps and lumps. But I think there may be a lucky roommate and/or a lucky boyfriend that will experience a Wisco-style* auto-bath sometime this spring.

*I am, indeed, aware that Mermaid Car Wash is a phenomenon not limited to the Madison area. Now.


13. I HAVE ODDLY WONDERFUL MEMORIES OF THIS MADISON CAR-WASH, AND I HOPE MY KIDS ENJOY GOING THROUGH CAR-WASHES WITH ME HALF AS MUCH AS I DID WITH MY PARENTS.

12. BUTTERNUT SQUASH TORTELLACCI.

I won't lie. It's because I currently have a belly full of this delicious dish from Prima in South MPLS. Here's what makes this even better: I don't like squash OR pears. And I LOVED this dish; the flavor combinations were so perfect and the squash was...good enough to make me reconsider my hatred of squash.

I tried this dish because I heard nothing but rave reviews about it and against my instincts, I decided to taste it myself. Butternut, sage brown butter, almonds, caramelized pears, olive oil and a hint of cinnamon. OMG.

As I told TBB tonight at our pseudo-Valentine's Day dinner, "There are few things that make me happier than an exquisitely tasty meal." I think he appreciated the sentiment. I veered from today's blog topic because the tortellacci was that good. And now I will go appreciate a favorite wine of mine.

12. GOOD FOOD MAKES ME REAAAAAL HAPPY. ESPECIALLY GOOD FOOD I HAVE JUST DISCOVERED.

11. LIME PACKETS.

My mother and I discovered these little citrus treats at a grocery store one day, and being the food adventurers we are...decided, of course, to buy two boxes. We split a box of lemon and a box of lime between the two of us, and the rest is history.

Much to the chagrin of my enamel, I love citrus and believe it makes (almost) everything taste a bit better. And this is why True Lime rocks:

-it lasts a lot longer than real lime/lemon slices
-it comes in travel-friendly single serving packets
-only 100% all natural ingredients
-it hides the taste of city water
-it makes a great hot drink w/out the tea bags or coffee teeth
-it helps (at least me) fill your daily H2O quota
-it has zero calories, zero carbs, no sweeteners, kosher

I keep 'em in my purse and on hand at work so I'm never without it, I highly suggest giving this a try.

11. I, OF THE MESSY AND LAZY BEVERAGE SCHOOL, LIKE TO HAVE THIS LITTLE INSTA-DRINK WITH ME SO I CAN ALWAYS BE ONE PACKETS AWAY FROM MY CITRUS-Y FIX. I LOVE TO SHARE THESE, LIKE MOST FOODS I LIKE, WITH FRIENDS/CO-WORKERS/STRANGERS, WHO IN TURN THINK I AM VERY IN-THE-KNOW. HOORAY ONCE AGAIN FOR HEALTHY, SIMPLE PLEASURES.

10. BRAIDS.

I know what you're thinking: Braids are for little girls and Swiss Miss ads. But I'm a big girl and I love having pleated locks...and still need my mommy to braid my hair. Or anyone really, anyone willing and nimble of fingers. I'll blame it on my lack of hair and my mother's blessedly low-key approach to hair/makeup, but I have never successfully braided my own hair! I'll spare you the pictures, just take my word for it.

My braid memories are mostly fond ones. From the center part, Britney-schoolgirl look, to the time I let a fellow cheerleader talk me into cornrows, to the loose fishtail braids I try to master off of youtube videos...I love me some braids.

As a girl with fine hair, this is one of the few hairstyles that actually feels tight, secure and like I could shake my head up/down/all-around and have it stay! My flower-named friend recently went to a salon just to have her hair braided and I think I might be quickly doing the same! There's nothing like a well-done braid to make you feel put together, and I just don't think TBB's man hands are up to the challenge.

I love this hairstyle (and Imogen's tutorials) so much, I even considered buying some clip-in hair extensions to help me out. More word on that later; maybe it will show up as my happy-thing around day 207.

10. I LOVE A GOOD BRAID, EVEN IF IT'S NOT ON MY HEAD PER-SAY. I THINK THEY'RE FUN AND FLIRTY!

9. CIRCLE-SHOPPING.

I'm not sure what else to call this compulsion of mine- "circle-shopping" is the closest I can get. Let me try to explain...

As much as this blog is a compilation and virtual representation of all my free (and not-so-free) happies, I won't lie to you; I like my things. I love discovering and shopping for pretty things, and normally looking at them is enough, but at my weaker moments I downright COVET them! I know it doesn't make me sound very mature, but sometimes I'm cranky that I have to live within my means. What do you mean I can't spend $425 on Jimmy Choo Crocodile Hunter Wellies?! But...but..I want them!

So, to harness my inner Veruca Salt, I circle-shop. This means as I go through magazines and catalogs full of things I want/must have, I circle them as if I'm marking them for later. As in, "I'll circle these items so that Frederick (my butler) will know to have them promptly shipped and awaiting my return from my latest trip to Marseille." It does the trick every darn time! It's almost as if I've already purchased, owned and forgotten about the item. Which, of course, means I certainly didn't need it that badly in the first place. I forget about the "must-have" entirely.

I've updated this practice a bit to stay hip with the kids, so now I bookmark when I find something I can't live without. If my bookmarks get too full, I go back to the links and weed out all the over-the-thigh cashmere boots and butterfly sequined-capes*, and clear my mental closet for the next pretty. It's a bit materialistic, but it's way cheaper to go mental shopping and buy groceries instead (see blog entry #1).

*Ok, FINE. I bought the cape...



9. CIRCLE SHOPPING ALLOWS ME TO INDULGE BRIEFLY IN MY FRIVOLOUS SIDE WITHOUT FEELING POOR OR SOMEHOW DENIED--I AM THANKFULLY NEITHER. IT MAKES ME HAPPY TO PRETEND SHOP AND I'M GLAD THAT'S ENOUGH FOR ME.

8. TUTTO PASTA.

Tutto Pasta Cucina Italiana. Epic name for an equally epic restaurant. I'm talking about the original, teeny-tiny corner eatery in downtown Madison, a few short blocks from the capitol. The very first time I ate here with my family, they let me make my very own dish. Ok, they let me add salmon to my four cheese pasta, BUT from that fateful day forward...salmon+cheesex4=happy erin.

I have admittedly built Tutto Pasta up in my mind a bit since I moved away. In my memory, the waiters were ALL ITALIAN-ALL WEARING SOCCER JERSEYS-AND ALL-BEEFCAKE. I went back with TBB this winter and I was seriously disappointed to see nary a soccer jersey. So much so, that I questioned my waiter and he confirmed that yes, the waiters did used to don soccer jerseys. He avoided the beefcake question, but as he left he winked, so I think that means he knew what I was referring to...

The bread is delicious and abundant, the drinks strong, the proportions daunting and the prices reasonable. I highly suggest this restaurant if you're in the Madison area and understandably conflicted with all the great food choices down there around 'them there college kids'. Inside, it's what I imagine a real semi-gritty Italian eatery would be like: narrow, dimly lit, loud and extremely packed with people.

I have great memories here as eating here usually preceded some kind of fun outing around State Street. Alas, at my last visit I tried my usual dish and was disappointed. But maybe that is life's way of letting me know that while I can cherish and appreciate some traditions, a little change now and then can't hurt. It might even taste better than four-cheese-salmon-pasta.

8. I HAVE MANY HAPPY MEMORIES AT THIS RESTAURANT WITH FRIENDS AND FAMILY ALIKE. I LOOK FORWARD TO BRINGING FUTURE FRIENDS AND FAMILY HERE TO (HOPEFULLY) ENJOY IT AS MUCH AS I DO.

7. ROMPERS.

Don't be confused. My legs are not endless and sinewy, and as a general rule, I don't wear shorts. It's bad enough that subject my roommate/family/TBB/young impressionable boy cousins to the sight of my bare thighs, but the general public? Non. I've obviously yet to channel my inner-Beyonce and do the jello-jiggle down the streets of MPLS, but...

But I love rompers! My tastes tend a bit more to the retro, as that's what flatters my body shape. I like to emphasize the small part of my waist (what girl doesn't) and I'm on cloud nine if you throw in some buttons or a bow. That said, I'm only rarely an all-out-sundress type of girl; rompers are my idea of a perfect combination between masculine and feminine, between sporty and frilly.

I've actually gone as far as purchasing a denim romper one summer, and it hung beautifully in my closet...never to see the light of day (or direct light of any form). As a scavenger of vintage stores, I am willing to bet that one special day I will encounter a romper so irresistble that I will be forced- nay, inspired- to do the mental preparation for my return to shorts. Until then, I will share with you my favorite sleepwear: incarnated annually by le Gap, and worn almost nightly by me. I give you...the sleep romper.*

*Not for lazy boyfriends.
















7. ROMPERS MAKE ME FEEL CUTE AND GIRLY. AND I DON'T HAVE TO JUSTIFY MY SLEEPWEAR TO MY SHEETS.

6. COWBOY CAVIAR.

I used to BEG my aunt to bring this favorite recipe to holidays when I was younger. Sad but true fact: I no longer have to beg; the begging is practically implied and she usually assures me 1-2 days in advance that she will be packin'. What is this delectable dish? COWBOY CAVIAR.

No, no, no. Neither cowboys nor fish were harmed in the making of this dish. Since I recently realized I could indeed chop/dice without losing a digit, I've begun the aruous task of mastering this dish. TBB got the first test-round of it, and today our friends were the second to try it out during our Superbowl festivities. It was a hit!

Go ahead, try one of the many variations out there on the interweb! I'm planning on trying a few variations myself, but the family recipe that was such a smash hit today? Itsa' all mine!*

*Insert authentic Italian accent here.

6. I LOVE SHARING RECIPES WITH FRIENDS. MY NOT-SO-SECRET GOAL IS TO BE KNOWN FOR CERTAIN DISHES AND MAYHAPS ONE DAY BE ASKED TO PRETTY-PLEASE-BRING IT!

5. FROZEN RASPBERRIES.

I'm not sure I'm going to be able to accurately explain this one, as I've yet to meet anyone as passionate about these frozen delights as I seem to be.

I can't say when I started eating these, but it was as early as my short stint at my great uncle's grocery store in early high school. Now, they had the good sense to allow their employees to cash their paychecks at the registers. I'm not sure if this is still their practice (or legal??); but playing right into their hands, I would regularly spend chunks of my wages in potato wedges and frozen raspberries at the end of my shift. My mother would always exclaim when I walked in w/bounty in hand: "We HAVE food here! We live less than a block away from the grocery store...couldn't you wait that long?!"

Short answer? No.

I love fruit in almost every form, and could eat it at every meal if my body could subsist on that alone. And if canker sores didn't keep me in check as my body's way of telling me to chill out on the citrus, you psycho. The bearded boyfriend, henceforth known as TBB, wisely keeps some on hand at his apartment, so the mad-dashes to Walmart for my post-dinner fix are made somewhat less frequently.

I strongly urge those of you who haven't tried this delicacy to do so. Even if your fruit cravings come and go, think of the genius of having your fruit frozen, making it last much longer than its chemically preserved life in your fridge. Seriously, another reason I love frozen raspberries so much is that they are frozen as soon as they're picked-they don't need to have chemicals sprayed on them to survive the ride from their faraway home to your local market! And apparently, some people have enough self control to blend them into smoothies with other fruits and juices before consuming them. But that's just here-say.

5. FROZEN RASPBERRIES MAKE MY VERY SOUL HAPPY. I'M LUCKY TO ENJOY THIS HEALTHY TREAT SO MUCH MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE. IT ALSO GIVES ME GREAT PLEASURE TO SHARE THESE TREATS WITH OTHERS, AFTER THE WEIRD LOOKS STOP.

14. PORCELAIN PRIDE.

I have it.

Yes, reader(s?), I have returned. Not on my beloved list of things is being task-oriented, or following-through. But it is on a list of wants or aspirations. Also on that list is a 10K, but I DO believe in miracles!



So, back to my porcelain pride: I, as you may have gathered, am quite the fair-skinned lady. Being of mostly Scandinavian descent, after logging some solar time my skin turns a pleasant shade of pink before it peels off to reveal a shiny, blindingly white layer of Irish-Girl-Alabaster. It wasn't always like this! I use to be just another sun-streaked, dirty-tan swimmer, proudly wearing my x-marks-the spot-tan-lines earned from 2 practices a day. But after a brief prom-induced tanning bed phase, I became sick of laying in other peoples sweat/dead skin cells and feeling my contacts glue themselves to my eyes from the bed's rays. Being too cool/busy to swim in the summers, my skin was quickly growing accustomed to this new shade of white.

I once read an article about skincare where the question of true skin color was posed..."What is my natural skin color? What color should my skin be?" And the answer was, "The color of your backside." I kid you not. It makes sense that your (hopefully) unexposed skin is your intended shade, and that has been my motto ever since. And if you don't like it, you can kiss my pasty white-...everything, I guess.

Now I embrace it. I have "enhanced" red hair (ok, fine, I dye it), and am a sunscreen devotee. I figure as long as I'm not intentially scorching my skin, I might as well go the whole 9 yards and embrace it, and also embrace the daily sunscreen routine that I am almost sure I'll be thankful for in 10+ years.

Sure, my shade is a running joke for most of my friends, but a large portion of the jokes are made by yours truly. Truth is, while sometimes I long for tan skin, it's not enough to log the hours in the sun or put my health in danger. One of my favorite anecdotes to share is the one where I was singing a duet with my roommate for her senior show, and I appeared onstage next to her in a black dress (short, lots of leg and lots of skin). As soon as the lights hit me, our mutual voice teacher yelled, "Stop! Stop! Erin...your legs are SHOCKINGLY white." And said as if I had all at once overwhelmed/stunned/amazed her at the sheer whiteness of my legs, and would you please buy some nylons before the opening? I love that story. But, the real kicker is that that same fair-skinned voice teacher is in her mid to late thirties and still playing teenagers in shows! Granted, she's pushing it a bit and it's opera, but STILL!!



So, here's to all my dainty-dermis'd dames! We shall have the last laugh and look hot doing it!

(No offense to my tan sistas, I'm not-so-secretly jealous of your ability to change skin color...you're fabulous too!)

14. HAVING FAIR SKIN MAKES ME HAPPY. IT MAKES ME FEEL DIFFERENT, SMART AND JUST A LITTLE BIT CLASSY.

4. NOT ALWAYS RIGHT.

As in, the customer is NOT always right. We've all been there- stocking shelves, folding clothes, steaming frothy beverages, or schlepping food...customer service is practically a right of passage. Or, at least, I think it should be.

There is something to be said for the sheer skill of plastering on a believable smile in the face of a Gallerian* who swears she can taste that extra 1/2 pump of sugar free hazelnut you put in, and "How hard is it to steam my double-tall-no-foam-extra-hot-2.5 pumps-sugar-free-hazelnut-3 pumps-white-mocha-because-I'm-watching-my-figure-drink to 170 degrees instead of the standard 140?". Forgetting altogether the serious lobster hands I'm going to have from handling your beverage lady, you just earned yourself a decaf. Can ya taste THAT??

Ok. Forgive me; tantrum moment over. Now back to our regularly scheduled happiness. Today's (i.e. yesterday's post I fell asleep before posting) post is about a favorite website of mine. Not Always Right is an outlet for our fellow customer service soldiers, and an overall good laugh for those of you lucky enough to be past that part of your career. Read 'em random, or head to your own specific occupation from the menu on the right side...there's no wrong way to enjoy this site.

*Gallerian: One who lives in the vicinity of, or in Edina; having no discernible daily schedule, occupation, general awareness of other people, or anything better to do than to harangue baristas at their local S$ and haggle over the extra 40 cents their half&half will cost them.

4. NOT ALWAYS RIGHT MAKES ME LAUGH, ALWAYS. IT IS ESPECIALLY HELPFUL WHEN I HAVE HAD A BAD WORK DAY; IT REMINDS ME I COULD BE SLINGING COFFEE AGAIN. IT MAKES ME GRATEFUL AND SYMPATHETIC FOR OTHERS, AND MAYBE JUST A BIG MORE GENEROUS IN TIPPING.

3. DRY SHAMPOO.

This stuff is a lifesaver. Seriously. For those of you have never experience the joy and convenience of dry shampoo, I suggest you remedy that immediately.

My locks of crimson, while silkily soft, are an endangered species on harsh terrain that is my scalp. By that, I mean that I treasure every last hair, and resort to any means necessary to make their numbers seem less scarce. I have an embarrassing case of hair envy for my friends with thick hair.

"Oh, I can't control it. There's just too much." Boo. "I have to use a flat-iron to get rid of my voluminous, glossy curls...pauvre moi." Bah, I say to you! My locks are as clingy as that starter boyfriend you had in the 6th grade to practice flirting on. (Sorry, Nathan...)

I swear Oscar Blandi isn't paying my rent; this endorsement comes eagerly and straight from the heart. This hair powder saves me from having to wash my hair EVERY SINGLE MORNING. Now, I'm as hygienic as the next person, but blow-drying said hair every single day is just plain bad for it. And I enjoy my beauty sleep. So this little wonder bottle helps me appear as if I've washed my hair, if only long enough to get me through the work day. And it smells like lemon! Talc is great and all, but it should stay on a baby's bottom where it was designed to be. I've yet to branch out into colored hair powders (fear of having a seriously dirty looking scalp-or more appropro, like I'm bleeding), but mayhaps that will appear in a later post...

3. I AM GRATEFUL FOR DRY SHAMPOO. IT ALLOWS ME TO FEEL LESS SELF-CONSCIOUS ABOUT MY FINE HAIR, AND APPEAR TO BE A RESPECTABLE (AND CLEAN) MEMBER OF SOCIETY.

2. BEACHES.

Oh, this movie was a dream come true to my younger self, wanting to sing and move to New York and be famous! Picture a big-haired Bette Midler as an aspiring singer, fabulous music and more 80's fashion than the human mind can process. And here are some of my favorite quotes:

"But enough about me, let's talk about you... what do YOU think of me?"

"[singing] Pouncer Pouncer the wonder cat. I'm so glad you're not a rat, or a bat, or too fat."

"I'm shvitzing from here to high heaven!"

"[singing] I'm marrying a doctor, a doctor. I can't believe I'm marrying a doctor."

I'm not sure how my little eyes were opened to this movie gem (especially since I was 2 years old at the time of its release date), but opened they were! It's a beautiful story about an unlikely friendship, wildly funny and practically a musical in itself. While there are a few menfolk scattered throughout the film, they are an afterthought in this heartfelt investigation into female relationships. And I shall now leave you with The Divine Miss M singing about (what else) boobs.

Otto Titsling

2. BEACHES IS A MOVIE THAT I HAVE ENJOYED SINCE I WAS YOUNG. I LOVE ALL THE MUSIC AND I LOVE CATCHING BITS OF IT ON NETWORK CHANNELS. IT MAKES ME GIDDY TO FIND RANDOM OTHERS THAT ALSO SEE IN THE MOVIE WHAT I DO: 80'S MUSICAL MOVIE GOLD.

DAY 1. GROCERY SHOPPING.

Maybe it's because I used to work in a grocery store. Or because I come from a restaurant family. Or maybe it's because my inner fat kid is not so inner; my grocery store glee is written all over my face.

I can't explain why walking into a grocery store makes me feel so... confident, but that's exactly what I feel. Of course it's more fun if I'm not setting a budget for myself and I can let my stomach take the reins...but let's get real, when does my stomach not dominate my choices.

Perhaps, I'm an épicerie snob. "You don't know what quinoa is? Oh. I guess we can just get you some oatmeal..." I try to think of it like I think of books: the more I know the better, right? Or maybe I was better off not knowing the pleasure of Fage, but once you've tasted "100% natural, authentic Greek strained yogurt", you can't go back. You're doomed.

I love the lights. I love the neat rows. I love filling my cart with fruits and veggies and then looking with thinly-veiled judgment at the lady behind me with the Uncrustables. And if I do happen to be buying frozen pb&j (more commonly known as the laziest of lazy), I do it with unmarked bills and sunglasses bigger than the frozen pizza I'm smuggling under my sweatshirt.

Most importantly, grocery shopping is about ME. Right now, the only mouth I'm obligated to feed is mine, and if I happen to be providing dinner, then my lucky guest. Maybe I'll enjoy it less when I have to share my food, but that's something for future me to think about. Sucker.

My future husband better build my dream house far from any of the following if he doesn't want mortgage payments to be applied directly to my waistline: Lunds, Whole Foods, Kowalski's, Publix, Trader Joe's or Costco*.

*Jumbo bags of frozen Alexia sweet potato fries? YES, PLEASE.


1. I AM THANKFUL I AM ABLE TO GROCERY SHOP WITHOUT VERY MANY FINANCIAL LIMITATIONS; IT MAKES ME HAPPY TO FILL MY CART WITH TASTY FOODS AND FILL MY BAGS WITH POSSIBILITIES FOR THE WEEK(S) TO COME.