The Eternal Quest

25 04 2015

Some set their life’s intention to seek a wiser existence. Some seek to find inner peace. Some look for the answer to the one question that puzzles us all: what is this life lived for?

Not I friends. Not I.

My quest is simpler than all of this.

I’m just looking for the perfect sugar bowl.

You see, I’ve broken a few sugar bowls in my day. And now, the addition of granite counters in my new kitchen has made this quest feel like a weekly expedition because I’ve broken two since the reno.

I went out one day and hit up every single store in Nelson I could think that might sell sugar bowls. It was like searching for the Holy Freaking Grail of Sweetener Holders.

NO ONE HAD A SUGAR BOWL. Not a single one.

I finally found one so ugly I wouldn’t have given it to my worst enemy for a joke. It was blue and orange, patterned like the worst mu-mu Mrs Roper ever wore on Three’s Company. It sat on the sale table, woefully bearing the orange sticker of clearance. It looked ashamed of itself, and frankly, I don’t blame it. Being desperate though, I bought it. The seal around the lid was awful and Dan found that sugar crystallized and formed little hard chunks in the bowl, which he would have to scrape out with his spoon to sweeten his morning cup of coffee.

I broke the handle off that bitch a week into owning it. My eternal quest continued, while we kept using this ugly broken INEFFICIENT sugar bowl.

A spur-of-the-moment trip to Kelowna last week excited me. As we drove, I imagined the plethora of sugar bowls we might find. The colours, the shapes, the unique style. I admit I was more excited than I should have been. But hey, a girl can dream.

I hit up Pier One, Urban Barn, Home Outfitters, Bed Bath and Beyond, and finally, Home Sense. Every single store had one plane Jane sugar bowl. I’m not kidding. The lack of choice was disheartening.

But finally, deflated, I walked around a corner and found this cute white and blue sugar bowl, with a delicate lid. I picked it up and realized it matched a set of dessert plates my sister had given me. Giddy, I caressed the smooth ceramic bowl, and looked at the price. $6.99!!!! WHAAAAAA????

I almost fainted. With a suppressed glee, I bought that sugar bowl, anxiously watching the clerk wrap it up with several layers of protective paper.

I place my purchase safely under the seat and we went merrily on our way.

Upon arrival at home the next night, I revealed the sugar bowl to Oooohs and Aaaahs from everyone. I tore the plastic wrap away and proceeded to drop the lid onto the counter, where it broke in two.

FML.

 

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Adventures In Grocery Shopping

28 09 2013

I’m in the grocery store a lot these days, what with two very hungry kids who show no signs of slowing down in their growth. It’s always a little alarming to go for just a few things and walk out with $300 worth of food in your cart, knowing full well you’ll be back in the store in less than a week to do it all over again.

That said, I enjoy grocery shopping. Inevitably, it’s a social experience; living in a small town, you’re bound to run into friends and family. I know most of the people who work there too, so it’s never an endeavor in silence, these forays into grocery land.

A couple weeks ago, I was meandering through the aisles when I happened upon a common experience: the Aisle Shopping Cart Traffic Jam. With a young man stocking the shelves and then a woman bending over choosing either black beans or chickpeas, with her cart left right in the middle of the aisle, I was stuck, with no way past. I waited for a few seconds, thinking she’d notice me and we’d share a smile and shuffle our way around one another, with  stereotypically Canadian apologies exchanged.

She didn’t notice me, so I said “Excuse me, would you mind moving your cart?” with a smile.

She stood, ever so slowly, with her mixed beans in hand and looked at me. Face expressionless, her eyes met mine and she reached over and moved the cart to let me by. Nary a whisper of a returned smile graced her sullen face. She glared at me in silence and I said thank you and sidled on by. I could feel her gaze drilling holes in the back of my head.

“Well, THAT was weird,” I thought to myself and shopped on.

Three aisles later, I pulled off to one side to choose some tea. No lie, folks. I followed the etiquette of shopping, leaving the left hand lane free and clear for passage. There I was, in front of my cart, when BAM, my cart slammed into the back of my leg. Not gently either.

I jumped a bit, startled and turned to see HER. Same expression on her face, by which I mean pinched grim lips and glaring eyes, morose as ever. Her hands gripping the handle of her own cart, blatantly responsible for bumping into my own. It was a stare-down in Aisle 7, ladies and gentlemen. I could almost hear that music from that old cowboy movie….

I realized that I had two options. I could channel my inner redneck and tell her off or ignore her. I chose the latter as something in me was ringing a warning bell. I think this lady was legitimately loco, and I for one wasn’t interested in any sort of epic grocery store throw down. (Although that would make for a funnier blog post, I suppose.)

Sometimes it’s just better to walk away…..