Heard these ones?

Prior to making homemade hashbrowns and a big breakfast (I may just be the next Top Chef the way I'm rollin' it in the kitchen lately), Mr. Fine and I made our way to our neighborhood Wal-Mart.  He was on a last-ditch mission (we tend to believe in the 'I'll save money somewhere else and Live Better' Mantra and frequent Wal-Mart in only the most desperate of situations) for a few perennials for a new flowerbed he's concocting in the backyard.  Me?  I tagged along to grab supplies for the coffee cozies that I have on my list to make.  Yes, I am indeed embarking on the sewing aspect of a personal life as well.  A few too many projects, you wonder.  Likely.  Mr. Fine tells me that I have a 90% complex.  Start EVERYTHING and finish 90%.  Time will only tell, my dear readers.  Time will only tell.

Any hoo, imagine my surprise when the Wal-Mart fabric department had been condensed to pre-cut fat quarters and sewing machines.  What?  Wal-Mart patrons don't sew any more?  Well, perhaps they never did...which is why the fabric was always dusty and why I always had to tell the lady how to cut the fabric I wanted and sometimes hold the scissors with her.

None of this really matters.  What really matters is the conversation that we overhead as the checkout lady was checking us out.  Was the conversation with us?  No.  Was it happening while our actual items were being scanned?  Yes.

Check-out Employee:  Well, you should stay in your basement when it's this hot.


Leaning on Bag Carousel Employee: I don't have a basement.  I live in a trailer.


Check-out Employee: You live in a trailer?  I didn't know that.  I knew that XXXX was trailer park.  But I didn't know that you were trailer park.


And yet, Miss Leaning on Bag Carousel Employee took no offense.  Huh.  Guess it's okay to go around calling each other trailer park these days.  Good to know.

Perhaps this is why we try to limit our Wal-Mart visits to once per decade.


When we returned home, Mr. Fine and I watched our backyard pond fish hungrily devour the food we gave them.  One fish, who rarely makes an appearance came to the surface.  Now, this fish, we typically call her a shark because she looks as though she could become a meal.  As we watched her eat today, we wondered if she was the fish who had graciously gone through labor over the winter to give us 10 new babies in the pond.  10.  Such a high number, we said.  Perhaps it was because Wal-Mart had provided us with a new knowledge of appropriate lingo, but we suddenly turned to one another and began talking about our Pond Whore.  Huh.  What has the world come to?

In other news, I did in fact make a 2nd helping of the Strawberry Crumble, doubled the topping, and am high on crumble and crystal light as I write this post.

Have a great day!