The Yogurt Event Horizon (with apologies to Douglas Adams)

At this time last year, there were exactly zero frozen yogurt shops within, say, three miles of my house. At least, there were none of which I was aware. I suppose there may have been one in the city somewhere, but I never came across one through my normal walking or driving habits.

Currently, there are three frozen yogurt shops within one mile of my house – two of these are less than one block away from one another – and at least three more new shops have popped up in the areas I drive around in nearly every day. There may be more than three; it’s getting hard to keep track. There is also a new shop in the town where I work, and last night I discovered yet another new one in a nearby city. They are all the self-serve frozen yogurt places, the kind where you take a huge empty cup, put in your own yogurt and toppings and the price depends upon the weight , but none of them are the same chain.

I’ve only tried out one of these new shops. It’s in a small strip mall near my house in the site of a former bakery. It was very tasty, but I kind of miss the bakery. I used to get birthday cakes from there. One of the newest yogurt shops just opened up a month or so ago, in the spot that used to be where I got my glasses. If this keeps up, I’m not going to be able to buy anything that isn’t frozen yogurt. Bakeries, opticians, drugstores, grocery stores, shoe stores… all will become yogurt shops. Nothing but yogurt shops as far as the eye can see.  

So let me ask you this: Why is this happening? And is it happening where you live? Why are we suddenly overrun with self-serve frozen yogurt shops? I mean, I like self-serve frozen yogurt as much as the next person, but do we really need three in a one mile radius? It’s kind of creeping me out. I fear that soon, it will become economically unviable to build any store other than a yogurt shop, the economy will collapse, and society will cease to function. And that can’t be good for anybody.

Nora with the camera

When you discover your child has taken a series of photos with your camera, the results can be mixed. Sometimes, it's thirty-seven blurry photos of the ceiling fan. Sometimes, the photos have boring subject matter, but it is an interesting insight into the perspective of someone who is only two and a half feet tall. And sometimes, you are treated to a delightful expose of your own inattentiveness.

Presenting the latter:


Oh, hey, Nora. 'Sup?


Yeah, just talking on my phone here.


Talk, talk, talk.


Whoops, gotta go!


There is something happening in the kitchen.


Skooching my way over, folks!


Oh, hey! You're coming too, Nora?


Hey, Dad.


I'm over here, Nora!


Yes, that is a lovely picture you drew and taped up yourself with fifty-three pieces of tape, Nora, but check this out.


The dishwasher! It's open!


You know what an open dishwasher means, right?


You just reach around in here... it's better when they're putting stuff IN, I've found...


Snacks!

Green? Or just cheap?

There were a few conversations on Twitter today which made me think about my hippie tendencies, and wonder about my true motivations. First, Jonna was rambling on and on the way she does now about cloth diapers and how to wash them, and I chimed in to ask some questions about detergent. (If you have any questions about detergent for cloth diapers, Jonna is the one you want to ask. But, she will tell you to use Tide.) (Don't ask ME, even though I have been telling everyone how easy cloth diapering is for six years now, but did anyone listen? NOOOOOO. Look! I even wrote a manifesto! There are links in my sidebar!) (You should probably know that I am harboring some ridiculous hipster-esque resentment about how I was using cloth before it was cool, but now all these upstarts with bigger internet presences are the experts just because they've done more research than I have and know more details than I do and also talk about it while I do not.)

Right. So Jonna was talking about the problems she had had with pocket diaper inserts, and I mentioned that   a while ago, Ann Marie's diapers were leaking all the time, and I couldn't figure out how to fix it, but I was unwilling to spend much money on the problem because I am in this for the savings. Yes. I hate using disposable diapers because I feel a little twinge of guilt every time I throw one out, but even more than that, I am cheap. All the upstarts' chatter about diapers on Twitter made me think that my problem was inherent in the microfiber inserts, so I looked into replacing all my inserts with natural fiber ones, and you know what? Those cost money. So I wanted to instead use cotton prefolds which we already own, but we don't have enough to stuff all the diapers. Thus we have been stuffing our diapers with either a cotton prefold or two microfiber inserts, and it seems to have solved the problem at a cost of zero dollars.

You know another thing I hate to buy? Wrapping paper. So I don't. First, there is the terrible waste of it, since it's not recyclable. But second, there is the part where it costs money. And I am, as has been discussed, cheap. I am a fan of easy-to-reuse gift bags, but I don't have buy those because they grow in my attic. They must, because I have not bought a gift bag in about three years, and yet there is an absolutely enormous box full of them up there. And for the gifts that don't fit in gift bags, I use plain brown wrapping paper. Recyclable, trendy, and free. At least, I think it's trendy; I've seen a few blog posts with pictures of plain-brown-wrapped Christmas gifts. And why is it free? Because whenever I get a package that used plain paper as packing material, I smooth it out and fold it up. And, man, as I typed that, I had a vision of a stingy old aunt carefully gathering up wrapping paper scraps and ironing it for next year, but I don't care. It's free! Free wrapping paper! And then I use fancy ribbon and they look just fine!

So that is my hot tip for you all. Save the paper that comes in your packages, and never have to pay for wrapping paper again. And next time, I will tell you about how I save twist ties. Or, actually, that's pretty much it. I also save twist ties. Basically, I am your stingy old aunt.

Italian tapas

I went out to dinner last night with one of my best friends from college whom I only get to see every six months or so because she has a baby she works all the time, I have three kids and two school schedules,   and she doesn't drive. But I got to see her last night! We went out to dinner near her house at a restaurant that opened recently near her house that can best be described as Italian tapas. After perusing the menu, we decided to split the bruschetta and the gnocchi with brown butter and sage. We were particularly excited about the bruschetta because it came with avocado. In fact, after ordering I told her that every time I have avocado now I mourn the years I wasted thinking that I did not like avocado, apparently because it looked weird. I used to turn down the guacamole! Just because it was green! Turns out that my friend did the same thing, so we were really looking forward to the avocado on the bruschetta, if only to make up for the lost years.

We were therefore very disappointed when the waitress brought out the bruschetta with a pile of leaves on it.  "I'm sorry," she said. "The chef said that the avocados were too ripe, so he substituted arugula."

Arugula! In what universe is arugula an appropriate substitute for avocado, I ask you? I don't actually know what you would substitute for avocado, but I know that it's not arugula. What was going through his mind, do you think? "Oh, no, the avocados are no good. Oh, man. I have to put something on there. Let's see. What tastes like avocado? Avocados are egg-shaped, have large pits, and are green. Also, 'avocado' starts with an 'A.' Hey! Lettuce is green! But it's not close enough. I know! Arugula! That tastes terrible, but it's green and it starts with an 'A'!"

As much as I love avocados, I hate arugula. They offered to take it back, but my friend doesn't mind arugula so much, and it was easy to scrape the arugula off my piece. So we ordered something else to round it out, and they didn't charge us for the bruschetta, so it all ended well.

Arugula, man. I just don't know.

Minister of silly walks

Ann Marie is on the slower side of walking, in that she doesn't. Nor does she pull herself up. She's been undergoing doctor-prescribed Tummy Time Boot Camp, if you must know. But we're not concerned or anything, although I am anxious to avoid Early Intervention if only because I don't want to have another appointment to deal with.

At any rate, if you hold her up, she sort of flaps her feet around on the floor and thinks she's walking. It is hilarious.

Ann Marie: Minister of Silly Walks from Maureen on Vimeo.

Skunk update

Does anyone remember how there was a skunk living under our shed in the backyard? Oh, wait, a quick search indicates I didn’t actually blog about that, only tweeted. Well here’s the story: This summer, we discovered that a skunk was living under the shed in our backyard. I had actually been suspecting this for several summers now, but I chose ignorance and never actually investigated. But then this happened:

We immediately took the following proactive steps:

1.       Posted a photo on twitter

2.       Fretted

3.       Googled “get rid of skunks”

4.       Put down flour at the entrance/exit to the under-shed paradise (to watch for footprints)

5.       Forgot to look for footprints before it rained

6.       Talked a lot of smack about buying a light to shine under there

7.       Called the city, were told it’s not their problem but be advised we have to KILL it, we are not allowed to catch and release it

8.       Called the pest-control guy recommended by the city, were told it would cost “$150 and up”

9.       Became concerned about the “and up” part

10.   Called our regular pest-control guy, were told it would cost $495

11.   Discussed the costs and labor involved in preventing skunk access to the shed – agreed it sounds like an awful lot of work

12.   Discussed the logistics of just agreeing to live in peace with the skunk which is, after all, nocturnal

13.   Put down more flour

14.   Checked for footprints but never saw any at all

15.   Sprayed some “Critter Ridder,” given to us by my in-laws, all over the yard

16.   Bought some mothballs for $5.37

17.   Left them on the stairs for several days

18.   Finally tossed some mothballs under the shed

19.   Was told by Andrew that the entrance the skunk was using was in the BACK of the shed, not on the side, so all the flour I was putting down was in the wrong place entirely

20.   Crossed our fingers

Thanks to our quick and decisive action, we believe we have successfully eradicated the skunk based on the fact that we never smelled it again after putting down the Critter Ridder. The flour never told us anything, not even after I sprinkled it near the actual entrance the skunk was using - or at least what we think the skunk was using - so we don’t have any actual evidence. But I’m sure it’s totally fine now.  

Right?

Are you ready for this?

First of all, do remember when Nora used to move like this?

Stuck scoocher from Maureen on Vimeo.

At the time, I thought she was just expressing her individuality. But then Ann Marie started using exactly the same technique, so now I think it's me. I'm working with the theory that it's because I spend so much time in the kitchen with its hard floor that I never give the babies any tummy time. Whatever the reason, it remains hilarious.

You know what else is hilarious? How much all three of my kids like the song "Are you ready for this?" Jack got a musical card for his birthday, and I've since bought the single.

But please note above that I said all three of my kids love it, because here is a video of Ann Marie dancing to it, with bonus skooching.

MVI 4153 from Maureen on Vimeo.