July 27, 2008

Day Five: MOO and Other Random Thoughts


If one waits until the blueberries are nearly black, they taste sweeter. They're still teeny, and I don't know what they're doing to those store-bought blueberries to make them gigantic. It's worrisome.

Single parenthood is not for the faint hearted. I knew this from my previous stint as a single mom, but it's still true. I know I'm not really a single mom this time around because it's only three weeks for crying out loud and how bad can it be?

This is how bad: I finally managed to shower today (with a whimpering Buckaroo pulling on the shower curtain). As I scrubbed between my dirty toes I thought: This is where I should have planted those poppies.

I know this is a broad generalization, and it's probably bad karma to write it down, and I'm sure that I'm wrong, but I've already thought it, so here it goes: The Market Basket boys all seem to be one enchilada short of a combo plate, as my Papa Orman likes to say. Here's a monologue I heard in the soup aisle yesterday (as spoken by a Market Basket shelf stocker):

"I wonder who my roommate is going to be.
I just really hope I don't get somebody goth.
I wonder who my roommate is.
I really don't want a roommate who's goth.
I just want to know, ya know.
I really hope I don't get a roommate who smells."
Lucky for him I'm not going to be his roommate. I should have wiggled my piggies at him.

Here's a sad thing I learned: My Uncle Mike slaughters cows, and he says sometimes the cows are pregnant, so he saves the calf before the mama is slaughtered (I didn't want to know how this was done). Then he raises the calf until he's big enough to be slaughtered. Kinda makes me want to give up meat. And cry.

So I'll end with the wise words of our friend, Pen Pal, "Why do animals have to taste so good?"














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