Hands Off My Hoagie!

Can someone please tell me why the employees at the White Bridge Jersey Mikes do not wear gloves? Why does the guy who stands over the counter, writing my order with a pen that inevitably has been in someone’s mouth, then reach into the cooler and handle the turkey that is going on my sandwich? No gloves, no hand washing, nothing! He tosses the meat onto the slicer, catching the shreds of turkey in his bare hand before placing them on my bread that he already man handled in the same process. I stand there trying not to think about where his hands have been, wondering if I can muster up the appetite to even eat now. With his job done, he slides my sandwich on to the next person in line, a young girl who bare-handedly grabs my sandwich and starts tossing on tomatoes and lettuce. “What else?” she asks. How about some mustard and sanitizing gel? After wrapping up my germ-laden sandwich, she turns and operates the register, touching money, along with the hands of every previous owner of those bills and coins. I pick up my diseased meal and watch as the process is repeated with no sink visits and no trips to the glove box sitting in obvious sight behind the counter. Why didn’t I eat at home?

Singles and Showers

I just realized the title of this entry could be misleading. Before you jump to conclusions, let me clarify that this is not about bathtub brothels. Though that would be an interesting piece, I surprisingly have no experience on the matter.

Instead, I would like to openly and honestly discuss an issue that has long needed to be addressed. Over the years, I have consistently discussed it in circles of single friends- each of us bearing the burden of guilt over the emotional turmoil of it all. That ends today. Today, the milk gets spilled. The diaper rash is revealed and no amount of Desitin can relieve the burning truth that single women DO NOT enjoy baby showers.

This is where our married with children friends are offended. WHAT? You don’t enjoy discussions about pacifiers, butt paste, and non-drip bottle nipples? Shockingly, NO… we don’t. We don’t enjoy sitting in circles with a group of moms discussing breast-feeding, while passing around baby paraphernalia that only reminds us of how very single and childless we are. The moms discuss ergonomic rattle handles and with each shake of the rattle, all we can hear is the ticking of our biological clock… that, and the crackling of our drying uterus.

But we continue to go, putting on happy faces as we unroll those six sheets of toilet paper to wrap around our pregnant friend, while sticking a few in our pockets for the cry fest we’ll have later. We pretend it’s the most fun we’ve had all weekend when honestly, most of us would rather be home in our pjs, on the couch, eating cereal and watching reruns of the Golden Girls. Yeah, it’s THAT much fun. But, we are called to “rejoice with those who rejoice,” so we sit, and laugh, and smile, and “ooooh” and “awwww,” waiting for a break when we can go to the bathroom and check the vertical drop from the window.

Guilt is often our motivator for attending. Tacky…inconsiderate…selfish…a bad friend- all labels we fear being branded if we don’t attend. And I’m talking about the showers of personal friends, not mere acquaintances. I’ll be honest, if I don’t hang out with you on a social basis- odds are, I’m not coming to your baby shower. Don’t invite me. Why do people do this? I continually get invited to weddings and baby showers of people I hardly know. Just for the record, I’m not that nice. I understand these people may be trying to be considerate by inviting me, lest my feelings are hurt by being excluded- but seriously, do me the favor. I’d much rather have my two hours, good mood, and twenty dollars.

I realize one day my tacky, guiltless, and insensitive self will be one of these married, pregnant women- and what friends I have who are still single will willingly sacrifice themselves on the baby shower altar on my behalf. They’ll attend my shower with hugs, smiles and well wishes, bearing the most amazing gifts with the cutest wrapping (are you taking notes?) and they’ll pretend there is no other place they’d rather be on a Saturday morning. The difference? I will understand the emotional façade. The liquor will be in the bathroom closet, girls!

A Family Affair

We don’t have family heirlooms in my family, but I’ve always liked the idea. A sentimental or valuable trinket from the past, serving as a continual reminder of those who have gone before us. Perhaps great aunt Effie’s cameo necklace, great grandfather’s pocket watch or pipe, mawmaw’s snuff can (sometimes it’s the little things), a mummified baby you keep on the bureau. Oh, how I wish I were kidding!

And I thought burial or cremation were my only options!

Diet Diary- Entry #1

Dear Diary,
Today is the second day of my new diet and fitness plan and already I feel discouraged. I weigh the same as I did yesterday and I’m beginning to wonder if the hours of discipline are really worth it. I’m curious- how long should I wait before rewarding my discipline with say…. oh… a piece of cake? I should probably wait another day or so to see how it goes I guess. I’m also beginning to think that I should exercise. I don’t want people calling me a fitness fanatic, so I think I’ll ease into that. I'm drinking more water, but I need to find out if carbonation, high fructose corn syrup, caramel color, phosphoric acid, natural flavors, and caffeine affect the nutritional value.

Food, Fitness, and a Fear of Failure

I have a new goal- I’m going to be fit. Well, maybe it’s not a “new” goal since I have tried it once before. Or twice. Or several times, but who’s counting. My point is, I’m recommitting. I put some thought into it this morning as I was doing some lunges. Okay, technically I was stretching out my jeans, but let’s not get caught up on details. In order to clearly define this goal, I think it’s important to recognize what it does not mean. It does not mean that I will obsess about my body. Not wanting to cry and go for a drink after pants shopping would be a good start though. And, by “fit” I don’t mean skinny. Britney Spears will never be classy and I will never be skinny. Some things just aren’t meant to be. So, what do I mean by “fit”? For starters, I’d like to be able to run around the softball field without needing oxygen. Pulling that tank around the bases really slows me down, plus it makes me look silly. Basically, I’d like to feel stronger, leaner, and less depressed when I shop for pants. This may also help me drink less. These are the goals I will keep before me. And, as with any goal, baby steps are important on the road to achievement. Baby step #1- I will stop eating M&Ms on the way to the gym. Baby step #2- I will stop getting french fries at Wendy’s when I leave the gym. For the past month, I tried not going to the gym in order to change these habits, but I don’t think that was the most effective approach. I also think accountability is key to success. I will consider the shame and humiliation of failure after having blogged about my goal as enough motivation. I’ll keep you posted in a new series of blog entries titled “My Diet Diary.”

Odd Encounters - #1

As I was leaving the produce section of Kroger today (this is where you take note of my healthy shopping habits), I stopped my cart abruptly before a head on crash with a seedy looking man, who's picture I would imagine being posted on the Sex Offenders Registry.

“Ladies first,” he said politely.

“Thank you,” I smiled and proceeded.

“Want to hear a story?” he asked from behind me.

“Um, sure?” I sensed this was a rhetorical question and the story was coming just the same. I stopped and turned around.

“There is this young girl who works in my office with me. One day we had a similar thing happen and I let her go first. She didn’t say ‘thank you’ like you did. You know what she said?”

The suspense was killing me. I nodded.

“She said, ‘you’re awesome sweety'.”

I stood there with a blank look on my face, obviously confused.

“Did you want me to say ‘you’re awesome sweety’ instead of ‘thank you’,” I asked.

“No, no. I just thought you’d like to hear a story.”

Huh. I think I’m still confused.

A Tipping Point

I believe in tipping people who provide me with an “extra” service. A bellhop who carries my bags, a valet (not that I ever use valet), a waiter who continually comes to my table to serve my needs and meet my requests- these are all valid opportunities to tip. I’m not opposed. I could indeed carry my own bags, or park my own car, or eat some place where I can serve myself. In these instances, I am tipping someone to do something for me.

I’ve always thought of myself as a relatively generous tipper. To me, a tip is a gesture of gratitude- a “reward” of sorts for going beyond the standard duty. That’s why I’m confused about the sudden expectation to tip anyone who’s working. I’m talking about the tip jars on the counter at Moe’s, at Baja, at any given coffee house. Am I missing something? These are places where we are at the counter getting our own food/drink. No one is coming to our table. If we need something, we have to get up and get it. Why are we tipping these people to do their jobs (prepare our food/drink)? Isn’t that the purpose of a paycheck? We don’t tip the cook at a restaurant. But, there the tip jars sit, beckoning our change at the register- exposing us to shame if we don’t contribute. We somehow feel like we give those friendly faces the shaft if we don’t tip them. What will the people in line behind us think if we don’t? Cheapskate. Once again, guilt prevails and we are manipulated into acting without considering the reasoning. We have to live with being a cheapskate or a sucker. Which will you choose?