Yogurt Girl and Scone Girl and me

A couple of weeks ago, I was in Tennessee, paying for my self-serve yogurt and the cashier did that thing where she prolonged the transaction for A WHOLE 4 SECONDS. She paused to verify my phone number for the rewards program. It took four seconds. In that four seconds, the gal in line behind me sighed loudly and, in protest to this four seconds to which she felt entitled to not be waiting in line behind me, plucked a blueberry or a chocolate chip or probably a piece of Cinnamon Toast Crunch (because this yogurt place is crazy like that) and ate it. Without paying for it. Because, forget capitalism, to heyyyy’all with honesty, zap it all to zero because how could you make me wait in line with this Cinnamon Toast Crunch that doesn’t even melt for four more seconds of my life when I could have spent it paying for it? Or who knows, if I had that four seconds back, I could possibly have been inventing a way for frozen yogurt to not melt so fast or I could have developed an app for legal line-skipping. Imagine the possibilities!!

Jane Thompson AKA Gordon


Yesterday, I was in Ohio for my sister’s wedding shower and I was standing at the counter of a cafe paying for my latte and scone. I ordered the chocolate and hazelnut scone because it sounded life-changing.

“Oh! You got the last one!” said the gal waiting behind me in line. She asked the cashier if they were going to make more, because she really seemed desperate for that scone. I suppose a nicer person could have just let her have the scone, but I am spending too much in therapy to not assert what I really want sometimes, even if it’s a complex carbohydrate that I don’t really need.

Then, the gal behind me said, “Ugh, I really wanted that scone!” and I kid you not, she actually stuck her tongue out at me.

Mrs. Winsor McCay  (LOC)


Let the record state: I prefer the tongue sticker-outer infinitely more than I do the loud sigher. I will almost always favor the overt rather than the oblique. I prize the courageous one who will say it (or stick it) to my face, versus passive aggressively shoving it in their mouths in protest. The variable here is age, as I would presume the sighing lady was at least ten years my junior. The tongue lady was presumably my age or older. The one who sneaks and the one who sticks out–the range of their ages is not as great as the range of their behaviors.

I am generalizing here, but the above behaviors represent the two regions where I have lived. By showing two incidents where indignation flared while waiting in line to pay for food, I have witnessed the North and South, respectively. In the South, one rarely confronts. One steams in private and then, after composing oneself, one will address the matter if necessary. In the North, people will generally look you in the eye and say what they feel. I am a daughter of the North, largely the folksy Midwest but I borrow the assertiveness of New England, and this makes me a misfit here in the land of the peacekeepers and the watercooler whisperers. And yet, as much as I wanted to stick my tongue out at the yogurt girl, the South has taught me to reign it in, to move along, to deal with it later when I am not feeling so Northern confrontational about it. Bless my little heart.

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Review: The Pack Sack #playPackSack

The worst kind of reviews are the ones that make products sound like they are going to revolutionize your life and let you retire now, while also giving you a side of lunchtime liposuction and, if you act now, they’ll even throw in a free cookie cutter shaped like a moose.

This review of the PackSack will not make hollow promises like that. I will just offer you the facts.

Fact the first being that my wonderful student Ashley is interning for the PackSack in California and she asked me, in exchange for a free Pack Sack, if I wouldn’t share my thoughts on it.

Happily, I will, Ashley!

Being that I am the mother of two active kids, I am a fan of products that are both affordable, especially since I lose things fail to remember my possessions everywhere and end up replacing many of them. So first of all, the PackSack retails for $3.99 or 3 for $10.99. Won’t break the bank, players.


The PackSack will carry up to 45 lbs. which, in case you were wondering, is probably the heaviest grocery bag you are going to be hauling anyway, or the heaviest 4 y.o. you are going to be–I mean. The sack should not be used to transport toddlers. It is made of polyester so, much like your dad’s leisure suit from 1972, you will not be able to destroy it, ever.


Another merit of the PackSack is that it has this handy drawstring closure device. I am sure there is a more technical name for it, but you can go ahead and stuff that in your PackSack. I can see my kids being able to wad up their wet swimsuits in the bag and drawstring shut it so it won’t get our car all damp on the way home from the pool, versus tucking their soggy swimwear into their towels which they will allow to unravel 232849038423 times before we get from the pool locker room to the car. In this way, I am playing the #playPackSack game for the month of June, which you can learn more about here.


You can also read all about Lauren Cannon, the woman entrepreneur (womanpreneur, to be sure) whose idea for the bag came whilst surfing. Gnarly. Lauren, Ashley and their team want to eliminate the use of plastic bags. A noble mission and one that I support when I do not forget or lose my PackSack. PackSacks, plural, since for $4 a pop, I can afford to buy more. Yay, PackSack.

If you would like to purchase a PackSack, you can order through the site or check out the retail partners. Or, if you’d like to review one on your blog, get in touch with the PackSack Posse!

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Evil Cookies

On Friday, we made good on a promise to Baby Girl to visit American Girl (AG) in Atlanta. It is good that we have to drive 2 hours to AG because I am all in favor of the way AG encourages girls to be active and pursue hobbies, but the fact that the doll hair salon was booked solid during a weekday and the doll hairstyles at the doll salon were $25 (which is more than I pay for my real breathing human being kids whose hair actually grows to get their hairs cut) just doesn’t sort of sit well with me. Millions of kids won’t have enough for dinner tonight but Fancy Nancy’s doll got a new tiara.

Alas, this is neither here nor there.

The real thrust of this story is how we went to Atlanta on Friday and en route, we stopped at McDonald’s drive-thru for an orange juice. I know. Very tall order. I felt pangs of mom guilt for not ordering something for the kids in the backseat, however, and the thought occurred to me that those boxes of McD’s cookies that I remember from my childhood would not be the worst car snack ever.


I asked the drive-thru attendant if they still sold those boxes of cookies.

“Yes we sell them. Totes,” he said, which I thought was an uncharacteristically casual answer, even for a drive-thru operator at McDonald’s. It tickled me so. “Totes,” he said. Like Totes Magotes.


But then my tab came to $6 and I was all Blue Ivy with my hands. Like, no sir. An OJ and a box of cookies DO NOT cost six moneys.


At the first window, I saw my receipt and I saw that Totes was actually referring to the receptacle in which the cookies would be delivered. Okay. So I suppose I should be used to the rate of inflation and the space age packaging, seeing as the last time I bought these cookies was clearly 1989, using a variety of dimes and pennies from my grandpa’s ashtray.

The second window attendant asked me if I could pull over to the parking space #1 because the cookies weren’t quite ready yet. And I was all, what is going on here? Do you have to hand-select them for the totes? What is fast about this fast food?!

Ding went the bell, though, and the 2nd window attendant said, “Oh, they’re done. Do you want 13 or 14 cookies?”

This was a HUGE question of economy here. I mean, do I go with the lucky 13 or the pleasantly even cookie census? Wait, who chooses LESS cookies when given an option by Ronald??

Then the attendant handed me the most geometrically pleasing tote full of warm, ooey-McGooey chocolate chip goodness.


I ate 2.

The kids each at 3.

I then got my first speeding ticket in the South.

I ate the rest of the cookies. Those cookies are pure evil.

Glad we got that extra one.

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