I was psyched to see that I was not the only person on the face of the planet who twitches at the sight of biscuit cans, but when a couple of commenters related this to similar feelings about balloons I almost fell out of my chair! We must meet one another! Perhaps a support group is in order?
Speaking of which, my balloon phobia causes me problems on a weekly basis. Our grocery store has free balloons, and every single time we’re there some well-meaning clerk offers them to my kids. (Fellow balloon phobes can imagine my horror at picturing three kids under the age of five, all with balloons, their hands all over them, pressing them too hard, the ear-shattering pop definitely coming but you just don’t know when…) Anyway, the following awkward conversation has played out many times:
CLERK: Here are three balloons…
ME: Oh, no thanks, my kids are, uhh, afraid of balloons.
KIDS: Balloon! Balloon! Want balloon! BALLLLOOOOOOOOON!!!
ME: Yes. They have a very jubilant way of expressing their terror.
CLERK: [Gives me a look usually reserved for people wearing tinfoil hats.]
KIDS: [About to start climbing over the conveyer belt in their franticness to get their hands on some balloons.] BALLOON! BALLOON!
ME: Well, I guess it’s not so much that they’re afraid of them as it is that, uhh, we think balloons are bad for the environment.
CLERK: [Glances at the fifty plastic bags used to bag up my groceries, then across to the mommy at the other checkout lane who actually remembered to bring her enviro-friendly fabric bags.]
KIDS: Balloon! Balloon! WANT BALLOON NOW!!!!
This is the point where I have no choice but to admit defeat. I grab the stupid balloons from the clerk before he can hand them to the kids and I push the cart all the way out to the car with one hand, a pained look on my face, my other hand holding the balloons as far away from us as possible as if they’re some kind of Kryptonite on a string. Then I immediately banish them to the back porch as soon as we get home.
Again, this sort of thing is why I never leave the house.
I have heard an rumor that there are pregnant women out there who do not own Bella Bands. This is an urban legend, right?
The Bella Band has more than doubled my maternity (and postpartum) wardrobes — I’m sitting here wearing a pre-pregnancy turtleneck and pre-pregnancy jeans at 25 weeks pregnant thanks to this thing. It’s a band that you wear around your waste and belly that gives the illusion that you have a tank top on under your shirt. It not only holds up pants but covers the unsightly maternity elastic that so many of them have. Probably the best feature, though, is that it provides some extra coverage for shirts that might be a little too short because of pregnancy (or, after pregnancy, carrying a little extra weight).
(This isn’t a paid ad, just a product I LOVE.)
I’ve always disagreed with people who say dairy products are bad (mainly with counter-arguments like “LALALALALA I DON’T HEAR YOU! GOING TO EAT SOME DELICIOUS CHEESE NOW!” with my fingers stuck in my ears), but in my attempts be more conscious of how my diet impacts my physical and emotional wellbeing, I’ve noticed that dairy, in all its deliciousness, might be making me feel sluggish.
Anyone want to make a case against dairy? I’ll actually kind of listen this time.
My husband told me about Google SearchWiki yesterday. Only about ten seconds into his explanation of the new icons that allow you to promote, remove or comment on each item in a Google search result, something in my brain snapped. I’m going to call it Interactive Information Overload, or maybe Wikinsanity. There is only so much information and organizing of information that one brain can take, and I have clearly hit my limit. I can already hear myself telling my kids about how back in MY day we had simple search engines that just gave you your information without pestering you to make a bunch of complicated decisions.
When Yaya is in town the one activity we can all agree on as fun and not offensive is to watch reruns of the 1980’s show Matlock, which we record on our DVR specifically for this purpose. What has happened more than once, however, is that we end up getting sucked into one of the mysteries only to find out that we accidentally recorded a two-hour made-for-TV movie or that the episode we’re watching is continued in a Part II. But by the time we realize it we cannot rest until we see how it ends, so we end up staying up ridiculously late to see the story through to the finish. This is called “getting Matlocked.”
Just before I was going to do my Lovenox shot yesterday I thought I’d look at the label to read more about just what I am injecting into my stomach every night. “Each syringe contains 60mg enoxaparin sodium…” it began. Didn’t sound too bad. Then it continued, “…derived from porcine intestinal mucosa.” Porcine intestinal mucosa?! I’m going to pretend I didn’t read that.
Below is a Mr. Linky list if you’d like to add a link to your own 7 Quick Takes post. (1) Make sure the link you submit is to the URL of your post and not your main blog URL. (2) Include a link back here.
Have a great weekend and happy St. Nicholas Day!
photo by Laura Mary
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