Organic Mayo and Brussel Sprouts

I am so obsessed with blogs!! Nancy, this is your fault. I never even knew they existed before last June. But I'm thankful for my new obsession. It's actually good for me. I read about other people's lives and know that I'm not alone when it comes to things like depression. It's so refreshing to hear other people talk about it, because it's constantly on my mind. I can also write about my own life right here, which is really good for me. And it lets Nancy know what I'm up to since I always seem to miss her calls and am too lazy to pick up the phone and dial her number myself. It's nothing personal. I'm just SO not a phone person. I run and hide when it rings. So all-in-all I'm feeling pretty content right now, so maybe I'll put off that phone call home for a few more hours (or days).

I just got back from food shopping at Wegman's. It always takes me twice as long to shop there as it does at Giant, and somehow I end up spending more on fewer items. I know why, though. It's because Wegman's is laid out so nice and pretty. I'm totally sucked into the facade. I do have to say, however, that their produce is much more plentiful and fresher than most other grocery stores I've seen. I end up buying things I would NEVER otherwise buy, like fresh brussel sprouts, which I do love btw, flax seeds, and tinted lip balm and facial cream with Vit. D, both of which are not tested on animals AND are organic. The reason I went to that store in the first place was to get some organic mayo. Zach loves this brand called Canes (do I need one of those little Rs next to that to let people know it's trademarked?) , which is only sold in New England. I am also hooked on it now. I was never a mayonnaise person before I got married. Anyway, Wegman's does not carry Canes, but I know they have organic mayo which I thought might be good, at least better than Hellman's (another little R there). It was the last item I picked up in the store, and I had to go back and look for it. I am just struck dumb when I'm in that store. I suppose if I went more often I would know what they stock and not be so amazed by the selection. Wegman's really has become a hot spot in State College.

The mayonnaise is decent and the brussel sprouts were great!

Hurting

Today I really miss my sisters. I miss the way things used to be a long time ago. I miss the times we spent conspiring against each other or my parents, I miss our old ways of fighting and arguing about crossing that imaginary line in the backseat of the car, I miss watching tv together on a Friday night, but most of all I miss their health and their presence in my life. I would give my right arm if it meant they could both be healthy again. This is the most I've ever felt the loss of my sisters, and it hurts. I know that they are still here, but they are both struggling with their health. I am struggling with knowing that things will never be as they once were or as I once thought they would be. There is nothing that could ever replace my sisters.

My Newly Discovered Talent:

Chugging water.

I can go through the entire alphabet in my head while chugging water. without taking a breath.

Why, you ask?

Because on the days when I go for a run and drink my daily half cup of coffee, I am in a state of hydration deficit (not quite the same as dehydration), and if I just drink a glass of water here and there, I won't be able to achieve equilibrium for the next five days. The whole delicate system is thrown off, and that equilibrium includes the functioning of my bowels. If they aren't working regularly, then I'm a bear, and being a constipated bear interferes with the stability and sanctity of my marriage. So for the sake of my marriage, I've developed the talent, or survival technique, of chugging water.

On the Fringe

I'm living on the fringe today. It's been a day of preparing, thinking, and eventually doing, but somehow it feels as if I'm not really in or part of the day. My surroundings feel distant and unreal, flat and two-dimensional. My body has been placed onto the surroundings of the day, but not in them. It's like those colorforms that we played with as kids. You place the plasticy, sticky figures onto the shiny, cardboardy background and create a scene. I'm the plasticy figure sticking to the background, just stuck there, with no way of really moving. There's me on one side and the world on the other, and they're at odds with each other.
I can't really figure out how this happens. It's a bright, sunny day, I'm getting along well with Zach, and I'm sleeping well, eating well, and getting plenty of fresh air. I start to wonder if I'm brooding too much, and, after a few more hours of brooding, I conclude that I am.
Okay. So now that's been established.
Thinking about this coming winter and what I'm going to do once my teaching position ends is frightening. I love fall and winter, but they are typically times when I feel most depressed, and I certainly don't want to have nothing to do come January. It's hard not to think that these feelings will last forever, and when I do talk about them I feel like a whiny baby. I'm really scared of what could happen. Could something like what happened last winter (the debilitating depression, self harm and thoughts of/plans for suicide) happen ever again? The effects from that time are still lingering, and I'm afraid that even if I did feel 100% better, that I could get sideswiped by it all again. What would be worse, being sideswiped or living in a heightened state of anxiety? I don't know right now. Right now it feels like I have no other viable option. So I'm living on the fringe, worrying about it, and trying to make sense of it all. Maybe it will never make sense.

Good Grief

Wow. I am so off today. It's another Monday-Friday for me. It's one of those days where the whole world is just so terrible and rotten. No one and nothing is going to make me happy, nor do I particularly want to be happy. I want to stew in my terrible, rotten thoughts. It's one of those days when you feel like everyone is judging your every word, action, expression, or thought. Of course I'm my own worst judge, but that's still no consolation.
Ugh.
I feel like Charlie Brown.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

I am feeling pretty good today, despite the results of the presidential election. The one consoling thing I have right now is that all of my friends (and most of my family) feel the same way I do about the state of our country and the direction the current administration is taking us (not good). It's unfair, but I suppose the other half million people who actually voted for Bush would have felt the same way had Kerry won. I am just dumbfounded that Bush was elected, but then again I don't know why I am surprised given the irresponsibility of the media and the evangelical Christian fundamentalism that has been propagated by Bush. By today's standards, to be Christian = to be Republican. That's really a shame, and it undermines true Christianity. I feel like I need to do something, but I don't know what, at least not yet.
As I said, though, I am feeling pretty good, and that's because I'm feeling connected to all those who are as bitterly disappointed as I am. I feel a need to stick together, because, much to the demise of the Bush administration and all those ultraconservatives, we're not going away.

Long live the fight for gay marriage, stem-cell research, better environmental protection, a woman's right to choose, and basic human rights! The pendulum will inevitably swing back to the left. So here's to Nov. 4, 2008. That will be a nice birthday bonus for you, Nancy. In the meantime, I will be living my life by the standards and values that I believe in. It will be interesting to see what happens over the next four years.

They're Red.

I'm wearing my red Mary Janes today. They were given to me by Zach's mom, and they're a half size too small, so they're hurting my feet, but they're red!

they're they're they're they're they're they're they're they're they're they're they're they're they're they're they're they're they're they're

That word is beginning to look really strange and meaningless. It's dreary outside again, but I have my red shoes. And there's Saturday night, when we turn the clocks back and get an extra hour of sleep. Hooray!
I'm too tired to write any more or to focus. I think I'll go for a walk in my red shoes and get a cookie.

This and That

I am in a radiant mood right now. I feel like I have so much good energy flowing through me that I might implode! It's as if there's a kaleidoscope of bright colors, pastel and deep blues and greens, swirling and merging and flowing right inside of me. I'm thoroughly enjoying it with Bach and a latte. The sun is shining, the Sox broke their curse last night, Gilmore Girls is on in an hour and a half, and there's a Halloween parade tonight. I finally borrowed the book Nancy has been recommending-Kaye Gibbons' "Charms for the Easy Life". I'll be reading it this weekend in between watching horror movies. I've already seen two this week-Amityville Horror and Night of the Living Dead. My grandfather turned 80 yesterday. I wonder what it feels like to be 80. It sounds old, but I'm not so sure anymore. I've got to do some work now, while I'm energized enough to do it, and because there's nothing holding this blog together other than it's scatteredness. Oh, what Mrs. Robinson would have to say about that!
I'm listening to Moby now, Zach's and my new favorite group.

Thoughts

1. As I was rushing around this morning doing all the things that must get done before 9:59 a.m. or ELSE and in a BIG hurry, I realized how insane I was being. I thought about stopping or just slowing down, but I wanted to get it ALL done, so I kept going knowing rightly that I will probably crash in a few hours and be in a rotten mood. Hey, at least I gave myself the option. That's progress, right?

2. For some ungodly reason I woke up at 2:30 this morning and did not fall back asleep until 5:30, only to have to get up an hour and a half later. It was probably the chili I had for dinner last night. Ack. No more chili for me or Zach after 4:00 p.m.

3. Since no one else is home, I've been listening to Enya, again, at full volume over and over and over again.

4. Reminder to self-It's no longer October 18th. Why I'm stuck on that date, I don't know.

5. I lied to someone over email to avoid meeting on a certain date. I haven't heard back from that person, and now I feel sooooo guilty. Why did I lie? But email is not really a valid form of communication anyway, right? Maybe they never received the message...

6. Redsox center fielder Jonny Damon is adorable.

7. Gilmore Girls reruns. Every weekday at 5:00 on the Family channel. Just in time for that pick-me-up after the afternoon slump.

8. I've got to start expanding my tastes to include sources of protein other than peanut butter.

9. U2's Vertigo. I like it, especially the IPod commercial.

10. Where's the sunshine gone to?

GO REDSOX!!!

By virtue of being married to a Massachusetts native, both my mom and I have officially been converted to Sox fans. The anxiety of watching this past week's games has been intensely unbearable.
Damn you, Zach! We never wanted to have to worry about the Redsox!!

"Closed for Season"

So it's already been a week since I last posted something, but that last post feels like it was written over a month ago. I suppose that just confirms my belief that it's Monday again this Thursday and that it really is spring going on summer. That's what I want to believe, anyway. Everytime we pass by an ice cream parlor that says "closed for season", it takes me about 3 minutes to register why, because if it's spring, it should just be opening for the season, not closing. Then I think that the government is playing some wierd trick on all of us by not telling us what season it really is, and that they don't want us to know because then we might tell someone who might tell someone who might tell a terrorist that it's October instead of March, and then they will attack us!
Anyway, back on planet Earth...
I just read Nancy's "Bad" post, and, as I've been sitting in my apt. feeling tired, sad and anxious, I am comforted by the fact that I'm not alone. "You are not alone, Nancy!" And by that I mean that I am thinking of you in the midst of all of your class/work/housework/relationship stress. I hope your head and hurty eyes feel better.
I'm listening to Enya "A Day without Rain" right now, and then I'm going for a run-in the rain.
If anyone is trying to get a hold of me, I am "Closed for Season".

T/M/TH/W/M/W/F/S/SUNDAY

I know it's been a while since I've last written, and I promised Nancy- www.uncollaborative.blogspot.com that I would update my blog more frequently. This typically happens with me when it comes to writing. I start off really strong and excited about writing, and then the enthusiasm for writing tapers and wanes, until it's completely extinguished and diminished to nothingness. But I realize how therapeutic writing has been for me, and, with that knowledge and some prodding from Nancy and Zach, I continue writing. Maybe the reason it's tapered is because it's now midsemester, which means midterm grades and frazzled students. For me it means forgetting what day of the week it actually is.
I woke up at 4:30 Monday morning thinking it was Tuesday, which is a day off for me. By Monday evening I thought it was Thursday, and by Tuesday evening I thought it was Wednesday. On Thursday evening I was sure that it was only Monday. So now it's Friday, but by the end of the day that may change, too. How is a person expected to keep track of the days which change daily? We've got calendars in just about every room of our apt., and there's one at work. But they're all useless if I don't know what day it is to figure out what day tomorrow will be. Tues./Mon./Th/Wed./Mon/Fri/Sat/Sun. That was my week. I wonder what next week will look like?!

Have a Krimpet

I just came back from a trip to the grocery store, and I'm feeling better. I blared the radio as loudly as I could stand it and got some of my aggression out on the road. It's the best place to do so, and everybody's doing it, so why not?, I figured. And then I had a bowl of ice cream with one of those butterscotch krimpet Tasty Kakes. Those were my favorite as a kid, the ones my dad always packed in my lunch along with a bologna and cheese sandwich and an apple.
And to top it all off, tomorrow is Friday.

Take that!

How in the world does anyone know what's real and what in life is worth taking the time to further explore or attend to?! I'm sure that question could be answered by Nietzsche, Kant or Christ himself, but in my agitated state I'm in no mood to read and decipher what these dead guys have philosophized in regard to the meaning of life. But how is a feeling real? I suppose it's only as real as we choose to make it, as real as the amount of credence we give to it. So, I could try to ignore the feelings, not wanting them to be there in the first place, because who the hell wants to feel anxious and fearful? Or I can acknowledge them and admit to what I'm feeling. I'm good at ignoring them, but not so good as admitting that I even have them, let alone which ones I'm feeling. It's like I'm embarrassed to be as human as everyone else on this earth. That pisses me off, because who the hell do I think I am that I'm beyond human feeling and fault! And then I just want to ignore my feelings again and retreat, but there really aren't too many places to retreat to. And so my agitation grows. So I'll talk about it. I don't really know what to say, other than I'm not feeling well right now. But then what more is there to say? I have this constant and persistently annoying need to explain myself. I feel like crap and I'm pissed off, and I have no explanation. So there. Take that. I'm not sure who or what is taking it, but it's not you, Nancy!

Swirling Autumn Winds

It's October 1st, and I am anticipating the arrival of those crisp, cool, and sometimes blustery fall days. The thick, white clouds float by up above as a slight breeze swirls the few fallen leaves around the ground. The air swirls above my head and whips those loose strands of hair across my face. A few leaves fall onto and against my legs as I continue walking with the breeze. It's invigorating. The air is so clear and fresh, and it breathes the anticipation of the harvest onto whoever will stop long enough to feel it. Most of us no longer harvest crops ourselves, at least not in the literal sense, but maybe we harvest something else. In preparation for winter and the upcoming holidays, we begin to slow down from all the summer activity. As the days shorten, we begin to spend less time outdoors and more time inside with friends or family, or maybe with just ourselves. There is a sense of loneliness as the fall and winter loom ahead. It's a time to reflect and recount the year's events, to see what we have done this past year, how well we have tended to ourselves and others. At least that's what autumn has always been to me.
So as it approaches, I am feeling apprehensive. I look forward to the cooler weather, to the brilliance of the changing leaves, to pumpkins, apple cider and Halloween. And although I love the blustery autumn winds, they don't bring that same sense of change, growth and renewal as the spring winds do. They just kind of swirl around what is already in existence and lay it bare before us.

Power and Control

As it turns out, I've been treeating this blog like my journal, and since that's the case, I feel like I shouldn't hold back at all. I should say whatever is on my mind, that I should be able, need to be able, to express whatever deep-seeded worries or fears I have. So here goes.
I'm struggling right now. I'm struggling with the same feelings of powerlessness and lack of control that I have been struggling with for the past 15+ years. And rather than to ignore the struggle and pretend that it will go away on its own or to succumb to the powerfully, enticing and instantly gratifying means to that false sense of power, I'm openly admitting that I'm not doing too well right now. To admit that takes every ounce of strength and courage that I have. Admitting this leaves me feeling weak, needy, incompetent, unstable, secretive and untrustworthy, embarrassed and ashamed. I know what I need to do and what I should be doing to take care of myself, but I'm not. At least not on my own, anyway. Just as hard as it is to admit that things aren't going well, it's equally as hard to ask for help or let others know what's going on. Slowly, I've been doing just that. But it's hard to admit and ask for help when you feel like it's all your fault that things began to go badly in the first place. It feels like it's something I need to do on my own. But therein lies the irony. It's in the asking and admitting that the real sense of power and control come into play. I know that, but I don't necessarily feel it. So I still try to do it on my own through instantly gratifying and unhealthy means. Maybe I run one too many times during the week or perhaps I don't eat enough during the day. Other times I cut my arm with a razor blade. And then I feel worse- guilty and even more ashamed. It reinforces the notion that somehow I've created this monster all by myself, and then it becomes too large to handle, which I also don't want to admit. The other problem is that even if I am feeling open about discussing what might be bothering me, I don't always know what's bothering me, which makes me feel even more ridiculous. So, I'm not entirely sure what is causing me to feel so powerless and out of control at the moment, but I do know that something's not right, and that cutting my arm and berating myself for eating "too much" is not the healthy way to handle this. But when I feel like I can't ask for help or express what I'm feeling, it seems like the only option. And it's so enticing. It's hard not to surrender to the feelings of power and control that come from denying myself basic needs or pleasure, especially when it's so familiar. And now I feel like I'm denying myself the one thing that is so familiar. Could there be a sense of power in that?

Meeting the Neighbors

They are usually sitting on their front porch, just caddy corner from our house (actually, it's the house we're watching for a former professor of mine), in their old 1930 brick duplex. Whenever I pull up in my car, I see two little old heads peering around the corner at me. At first I was somewhat offended and annoyed by this. Do they think I'm doing something illegal? Are they staring at the Kerry/Edwards sticker on the back of my car? Afterall, this is central Pennsylvania and small-town America. Then, when I reassured myself that, in fact, I am not doing anything illegal, and that they are just two old people with "nothing to do and all day to do it", as my mother says fondly of the elderly drivers, it became amusing. I started to wave everytime I saw them. And then, one day when I was feeling brave, I actually said "hi". I didn't think that the woman could do what she did, but she jumped to her feet and scampered down the steps and walked hurriedly to the middle of the road where she was sure I could hear her better, and asked me who I was. When I tried to explain that I was watching the house and I was teaching at the local university for the professor who normally lives there, she heard that I was the daughter of the woman in the house, and told me to say hi to my mother. I said okay, and left it at that.
A few days ago, they were on their porch as usual, and, after I waved, I was feeling particularly bold and so I ventured across the street to talk to them. Afterall, I have grandparents, whom I love dearly, and I know how much they like to talk to young people. I approached the porch from the side, where they couldn't see me coming, and, though I thought about getting on my hands and knees and jumping out from behind a bush while yelling "gotcha!", I refrained and rounded the corner slowly so as not to surprise them. In those next 7.5 minutes, I was consumed by their lusty desire to tell me their entire life stories, as they sucked the life force out of me with their tentacles tightening around me, thereby rendering me dizzy and motionless. In those 7.5 minutes, I learned all I ever wanted to know about Earleen and her third husband Robert. It went something like this.
"My name is Earleen, like the boy's name Earl with an e-e-n. And this is Robert. We'll be married 10 years this...November 18th, said Robert. Last year, no, it wasn't last year, but the year before we forgot." When I told her my name, she looked at me just as astoundedly as I had at her when I heard her name, and she tried to repeat what I had said. "Ahhngel..." I said it again, and she just said, "that's funny". And then she continued. "Did you know that I make a great three bean salad? or is it four bean?", she pondered. "But it's no good warm. He's the only one can eat it. All the people at the senior center don't like it." A car went speeding by, and she informed me that it was the pizza boy who always waves at them. "We used to wave at the man who works with the refrigerators and ovens at Sears, and I used to kiss him even, but, did you know, he died last year?" I said no, I didn't, and she proceeded to tell me about the boy whose 4 and he plays..."what's that thing?" she asked Robert, as she held her hands out and made a strumming motion. "Guitar" he said. "Amazing", she said. "It's for those church...hmmm...gatherings." She then told me when the house was built and that Robert was born here,. "Not me", she says. "I'm not from around here. He's my third husband. The first one died of cancer and the second one is still living. Then they told me I got cancer, and they had to cut the whole thing off", as she put her hand up to her chest. "Robert is 10 years older than me. He is 74 and I am 60. No, I mean 63". I started to back slowly off the porch, and she began talking faster. Dizzy with my good intentions fading, I managed to back away and say goodbye.
I smiled to myself as I walked back across the street, feeling my senses return. The mystery was gone between us, and I no longer have to feel like a convicted felon everytime I unload something from my car. I shook my head thinking to myself what a strange name Earleen is. I'll keep waving, and, in another month, when my strength fully returns, I'll go back for another round.

"Whenever I feel afraid...

I hold my head erect. And whistle a happy tune, so no one will suspect, I'm afraid." Those were lyrics to a song from a little wind-up toy radio I had as a kid. The song seemed harmless enough, and I liked the tune well enough, indicated by the fact that I still remember it, but I became too good at whistling a happy tune. I was suspicious of myself, but I continued to hold my head erect and keep on whistling. Isn't that what you're supposed to do?

'All the things I'm thinking but feel like I shouldn't say' is on my mind right now. What if I offend, anger, hurt or worry somebody? It feels like there are so many secrets, and they're looming large.
What kinds of secrets?
Secrets about me.
Things that I secretly enjoy, but don't want anybody to know. Things that I fear, but don't want anybody to see.
Things that I worry about, but don't want anyone to hear.
All of these 'What if?' questions spinning in my head.
"What if that paper crinkling under my bed really isn't the cat this time, but a viscious, spiked armadillo-like creature?"
"What if Donny Sharp refuses to open my milk for me today?"
"What if I forget which bus I ride?"
"What if I wake up too late and miss the bus?"
"What if I fail the history test?"
"What if, now that I'm a graduate student, someone finds out that I'm an imposter, that I'm really just posing as a student/TA, and that I still feel like the same person I was when I was 7? What if they find out that I'm really just me? What if anybody finds out for that matter? That 'me' is just embarassed and ashamed?"
Of what?
"Of feeling sad, lonely, angry, happy, joyous, content, fearful, or ashamed. For not being perfect. For not controlling what I feel. For failing to prevent things that cause me to feel anything too intensely."
If they find out, then what?
"I will be judged and committed to the slammer-"SouLess AnonyMous iMpostER Society" or that I'll be fed to starving wolves or swallowed up in a giant tsunami. Or, worse yet, that I'll have to just keep living and facing these 'what ifs', while nobody ever really knows whatI'm thinking or who I am, including myself. I realize now that I can't keep hiding from myself. The problem now is, where do I start looking?"

I looked under the bed, and it was just the cat. I looked toward Donny to open my milk, and when he refused, I did it myself. I never forgot which bus I rode, but, at times, I wish I had (at least on the way to school). I never woke up too late. I did fail the history test, but I got to take it again. And, so far, nobody has found me to be an imposter.
Maybe keeping these secrets is what's causing me to be so fearful, because, if somebody finds out, it means that I didn't keep the secret well enough. And everyone knows that secrets are meant to be kept hidden. I don't want these secrets anymore. The only time I'm going to hold my head erect in the face of fear is when I'm being charged by a fearsome dog. There's a fine line between keeping your cool while under duress and constantly hiding behind a mask of stoicism.
And then, on the flip side, there's being relentlessly and unmercifully tossed around like a rag doll and pounded against the broken shells and pebbles lining the bottom of the ocean floor, while ingesting volumes of salt water that burns your nose and the back of your throat when the waves are just too big, but you keep on trying to get back out there, because it was so much fun riding the waves earlier that day. Stupidity or determination?
Thanks for a great weekend at the shore, Nancy and Michael. I loved being tossed around by the waves, and there is still sand stuck in the fabric of my bathing suit. I can also still smell the beach in my hair. I don't want to wash it away quite yet.

We were all enjoying ourselves in the park

A few days ago I was sitting in the parklet near town, reading the newspapers, soaking up the warm September sun, and just feeling content. Not only was it enjoyable to sit there in the sun, but I also got some excellent entertainment. Two "boys", they could have been anywhere from 16 to 22 years old, dropped their sweatshirts and backpacks on a bench, raucously called out to a female, presumably a friend, and commenced the chase.

The squirrel chase, that is.

The two of them, the female remained standing near a tree, smiling nervously, tried to sneak attack the squirrel. One stayed put, and the other boy tiptoed behind it, and then yelled "GO!". The squirrel started running frantically in circles and up and down trees. It exhibited the same neurotic behavior that you see when a squirrel is in the middle of the road and a car is coming. I wonder if squirrels possess some kind of obsessive-compulsive traits. The squirrel must be like "Oh no, a car! Wait........wait........wait...RUN...left-right...left-right...one circle counterclockwise and then a flying leap to the sidewalk and up the nearest tree". If he times it just right, he'll win. If not, the car wins. (But we all know that squirrels aren't worth too many points in the driving game.)
So, the boys are chasing this squirrel, but, for all they know, it's really 10 different squirrels, and seem to be having the time of their lives. I thought about coming to the squirrel's rescue, but then it occurred to me that the squirrel was faster and smarter than the two boys put together. Not only that, but the squirrel seemed to be enjoying the game as much as the boys were. 10 minutes later, the two boys and the girl were walking dejectedly back to the bench where they had dropped their stuff. I heard one say "there are too many squirrels around here, anyway. I don't see what the big deal is". When I looked back from where they were walking, I saw a woman sitting at a table with a cup of coffee and a cigarette.

She seemed to be enjoying herself.

Shoes

As is typical for any couple, my husband and I have extremely different shopping styles. We went to the local mall last night looking for a pair of boots for me. I've been wanting (and needing) a pair for well over a year now, and I've been looking periodically the past few weeks. There was a neat pair of boots in a specialty store downtown, but they were $90.00. I just couldn't bring myself to shell out that much money for a pair of shoes that were neat, but not spectacular. I had been eyeing a pair in The Shoe Department that I really liked and had first spotted last winter. They were priced at $64.00. I wasn't sure I wanted to pay that much either, but that was before I had seen the $90.00 pair and before my husband pointed out a ridiculously expensive pair of men's boots in a catalogue for $290.00! Once a shoe hits the $100.00 mark, I really can't see how the quality could vastly improve to make a pair of shoes $190.00 more. But I wouldn't really know, because I've never owned a pair of shoes worth more than 70 bucks. So anyway, last night we went shoe hunting again, and I spotted the same $64.00 pair of boots I had liked last winter and the same ones I liked last month. I decided to try them on. As I was walking around the store with the boots on, I was drawn to another nice looking pair of boots. When I picked them up, I realized they were the same pair I was already trying on, the same ones I liked last month, and the same ones I liked last winter. I decided to buy them. Right then and there. Just like that. I knew that I liked them. My husband was appalled. "Are you sure?" he asked. "I'm sure they'll still be there tomorrow. We could look around some more". I said "why? I know what I like." And I could also sense that he didn't like them. But that was all the more reason for me to buy them. He said something about being stubborn, and I carried them to the register and paid for them. I'm satisfied with my purchase.
As for my husband?-he is on the computer now looking at LLBean again, searching for any sale items. When he finds something he likes, he'll ask me my opinion about the item. He'll ask me what color looks nice. He'll ask me what I think about the price and the quality of the fabric. Then he'll place it in the virtual shopping cart. When he gets through typing in all of the mailing and billing information, he'll inevitably delete the item. The next day he'll do the same thing. It could take weeks before he actually decides to purchase the item he's been wanting. Once he gets it in the mail, he'll try it on, and, again, ask me what I think about it. It takes about another week before he warms up to the item and decides that it was a good purchase. So I'm sure my "spontaneous" purchasing of the boots irritated him just as much as his calculated deliberations do me.
I have to admit that he gets some damn good deals, though!