…that some of you think that I’m funny! Like, funny in a good way. Not funny in a “wow you’re strange and I’m not sure I understand you” way. It almost makes me think that I should just live in my computer.
And since you think I’m funny, I really can’t leave you for an entire day (two, if you consider that I don’t blog on Saturdays at all) without a blog post. I’m just generous that way.
One of these Fridays, I am going to blog about waffles. Yummy, easy waffles.
But in order to blog about waffles (hint: don’t add 150% of the liquid the recipe calls for), I have to buy cocoa powder. All because I thought I had some. But it turns out that when I realized my cocoa powder was purchased when I was in law school (*cough*ten years ago*cough*), I actually threw it out. Who woulda thunk it? But I’d already decided I wanted to chocolate-ify the waffles and once I get stuck on an idea, there’s no dislodging it.
And then I somehow went a week without going to the grocery store.
Not sure how I swung that, since I had a whole week of meals planned that required grocery shopping and I couldn’t fall back on my default every-night-spaghetti since I have my teenager at home, but it was a lousy week all around and I only went to Trader Joe’s last night* while suffering from a terrible headache because there would be nothing in the house to eat at all over Shabbat if I didn’t, and I had promised to take challah to a friend’s for dinner tonight.
But Trader Joe’s didn’t have cocoa powder. Pout.
So the waffle post will have to wait.
*You HAVE to hear about the crazy woman in the parking lot at TJ’s. The parking lot is teeny. So you know when you go by car that there is a possibility that you will need to be patient and calm in order to wait for a parking spot. Not a good recipe for shopping while suffering from a whole-body-ache, but I needed to do it.
Well, this other woman was really not prepared. The first thing that happened as I pulled into the parking lot was that there was a car that didn’t follow the established traffic pattern. (The parking garage also has an entrance to the above-the-store-condo-building’s parking, and that is where this car was going. Presumably trying to avoid the four cars waiting for parking.) So this woman gets out of her car and yells at the not-following-the-traffic-pattern car.
She then proceeds to (appropriately) drive around the parking lot and then get herself going the wrong way (it did make sense sort of but she should have turned herself around so she wasn’t going the wrong way) and in the way of a car trying to pull out of a spot. So I’m gesturing to her to move forward so that the car can pull out, and she gets out of her car (again!) and comes to tell me that the parking space is HERS because she drove around the parking lot twice and all of the other spots are “for invalids” (she had diplomatic plates and her English wasn’t so good). I said, “that’s fine, but you’re blocking the car from pulling out of the spot,” at which point she just raised her voice and told me again that the spot was hers. In the meantime, two cars had pulled out of their parking spots and it was not a problem at all to park after the woman finally moved her car.