Category Archives: Hello Calgary

Thumper’s mother was right.

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Last night was Orientation Night for my yoga teacher training and oh, you guys. You guys, I am so excited. I haven’t felt this way for YEARS. I remember picking up my university calendar to choose classes for each semester, and then I would go through the syllabus of each class and it never failed – NEVER FAILED – to thrill me. Everything about university was exciting for me; all the course outlines, all the new information, everything. Now I feel that same, beginning-of-the-school-year excitement, and I just can’t wait to get started. I’m taking it slow because, well, life, but for the next three months I’ll be studying anatomy, yoga spirituality, Ayurveda, and Sanskrit. YOU GUYS I AM SO EXCITED. It turns out I am the same keener nerd that I always was because even the thought of doing the pre-reading is thrilling to me.

I have to settle down a bit though, because I can feel my competitive, Type A nature coming out a teensy bit, in a I am going to CRUSH this kind of way, which is not a very yogic way of thinking. Hey, we are all works in progress, right? There’s nothing wrong with taking the course seriously since I really do want to teach afterwards. Not everyone who takes yoga teacher training actually wants to teach, which is cool. But teaching is in my ultimate plan, so I shall embrace my serious student nature.

Yesterday was an especially hectic day since I was on a field trip for the whole day with Mark’s class. We went to the Police Interpretive Centre and let me tell you, it was the best field trip I’ve ever been on by far. The leaders were engaging, the information was relevant and timely, and all of the displays were very interactive and interesting. I get to do it all over again next week with Jake’s class, and I am looking forward to it. Looking forward. To a field trip. That’s how good it was!

PIC_bathroom

They also had this sign in the washroom, and all I can say is “Strongly Agree.”

The morning featured a forensics lab, where the children were shown how detectives solve crimes using fingerprints, footprints, lasers, blood splatters, maggots versus flies, and composite sketches. It sounds a bit morbid but it was extremely well done and sensitive. The children also got to learn about the K9 unit, and I found out that they choose puppies based on how much a puppy loves a ball. If the puppy won’t give up a ball, or won’t stop looking for a ball, that is the puppy that they want in training. Each dog on the K9 unit had its own profile, and I loved looking at the random facts: favourite snack, favourite place to be scratched, favourite TV show (how do they know?), how often the dog is bathed.

The afternoon was all about online safety, bullying, and healthy relationships. Grade 5/6 is the perfect age for these discussions, in my opinion. There was a lot of discussion around this and also about making good decisions. The bullying unit had me thinking about an incident that happened a few years back to a colleague of mine. She had a similar Twitter handle to another woman, and they both had a similar blogging niche. This other woman – who had many thousands of followers – took umbrage that my colleague had the gall to have a similar name to her, and started writing terrible things about her. Her thousands of followers/ sheep started tweeting equally awful things and some were really scary. A few people were particularly threatening, in a “I hope I see that bitch at x convention so I can cut her” kind of way. It was quite terrifying and also unbelievable, that a grown woman would act this way about someone else on the internet.

Unbelievable, and yet believable. The anonymity of the internet is a weird thing. Just yesterday, a friend posted on Facebook about her child bringing home a great report card. Yay for good report cards, right? Well, no. Because there was a strange string of commentary about how report cards have no meaning and the world is going to be ruined by these children and their useless report cards. Wait, what? At what point do we think it’s okay to take someone’s celebration and shit all over it? We talk so much about bullying and behaviour of our children, but some people apparently transcend these social conventions. There is ONE response to someone’s good news, and that is congratulations. I am happy for you. If you cannot say that, then do not say anything at all.

Scaredy Squirrel Can Go To Hell

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Was that me who was just talking about bringing sunshine with you wherever you go, and finding the invincible summer within? Well, that was before I discovered that squirrels have dug up and eaten every crocus bulb that Mark and I lovingly planted in my hosta garden, last fall.

Let me backtrack for a moment: my hosta garden is absolutely gorgeous for three months out of the year. At best. It is on the north side of our garage, but also shaded by the house, so it receives little to no sunshine. It is the coldest spot in the yard and the last place to thaw every spring. It is also the garden I look at the most, because it faces the kitchen window.

I know, I know, it’s not 1950 and I’m not wearing pearls and crinolines, but I do spend a vast amount of time in the kitchen and so that is my view. During the months of the year that it’s not snow covered, or the aforementioned three months that it is blooming, this is what it looks like:

yard

This is the BEST CASE SCENARIO. It’s really ugly.

And that is why I wanted to plant all the crocuses there: I imagined a scenario, before the hostas were up and before I could plant out impatiens, in which the garden would be covered with happy purple and yellow crocuses. It would be so wonderful. I would be so happy to look at it while I washed the dishes (but not in pearls and crinolines).

In the garden beside the back door, which is shielded from squirrels by – I guess – Barkley’s penchant for lying there, in the sun, these little beauties have poked up:

crocuses

I imagined a whole ocean of them in the hosta garden, an ocean of happy purpleness. Yesterday, I thought I saw sprouts in the hosta garden so I went out to look, and lo, there were sprouts. Sprouts that had been detached from their bulbs and were lying near the holes in which those same bulbs had been living.

Goddamn squirrels.

When I realized that they were all gone, all of them, I felt like pulling a Clark Griswold. I’m going to catch them in a coat, and then smack them with a hammer. I thought regretfully of the time I made Barkley drop a squirrel that was going to meet his maker. I silently willed Barkley to kill ALL THE SQUIRRELS, ALL OF THEM. A few hours later I saw a squirrel in the garden, and I ran out of the house, screaming. I threw my husband’s shoe – which was the first thing I could grab – at the squirrel, then picked it up and threw it again.

I am not the craziest person in my neighbourhood, but yesterday I felt like I could give a few of them a run for their money.

I know, I know, it’s not very zen of me. Also, we should all practice non-attachment, ahimsa, blah blah blah STAY OUT OF MY GARDEN. It took me a while to calm down and then it took me a while after that to not feel sad about my lost crocuses. After all, this is not Zootopia. The squirrels do not have human brain functions and are not some group of mean junior high girls that just want me to freak out while they laugh about it, eating my bulbs all the while. They are squirrels. They eat bulbs. This is what they do.

Hoo boy though, I was blue. I don’t know why but it felt like my entire joie de vivre depended on having those crocuses blooming. I mean, this is not a Jane Austen novel and those crocuses are not my betrothed on which my entire lifetime of happiness depends. And yet it felt like all the colour had literally gone out of my world.

Well, today I’m feeling much better. Maybe I’ll put some interesting-looking planters in there, and change things out seasonally – some outdoors-hardy decorations or some such thing. Maybe I’ll try re-planting and do some research on squirrel deterrent. Is there such a thing as a scarecrow, but for squirrels?

Leaping With Joy

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Happy Leap Year Extra Day, everyone! Leap Year Extra Day seems to be the least appreciated of the holidays, probably because it’s just an extra day in February. I celebrated by shovelling a tiny bit of snow for the first time in a while.

Have you noticed that I have not been complaining about the weather this winter? We’ve hardly had a winter, really; there have been only a handful of cold days since October, and of those, not one has been below minus 25. That, my friends, is a win. And yes, like any good Calgary girl worth her Stampede wear, I am cognizant of the fact that winter cannot truly be declared over prior to the May long weekend, but still. Getting through January and February with greatly-above-average temperatures is absolutely glorious, and even if that means we are going to get a ton of snow in the next few months, well, so be it. It has been so warm that the leaf buds on the lilacs are starting to swell, and the day lilies are popping tiny green shoots out of the ground. Fortunately, the residents in my garden have been chosen largely due to their extreme hardiness, so even if we do get two feet of snow, they will be fine.

Another thing of note that I have not been complaining about: the book fair. Last week was the book fair – it was my sixteenth! – and I was not at all stressed out about it. For one thing, I have been transitioning my duties to the co-coordinator in anticipation of my Book Fair Lady Resignation in March of 2017, and she has really hit the ground running. (HI HAYDEE). She did nearly all the prep work for it, so I felt like I was on easy street. In fact, now that I see the light at the end of the Book Fair Tunnel, I am starting to feel a bit emotional about it. I really just had a live in the moment feeling and enjoyed the kids and their incredible excitement about the fair. One kindergartener was vibrating with excitement at the thought of buying a Lego Ninjago book; that excitement coupled with the fact that I’ve really seen some of these kids grow up vis a vis their book choices gave me a mixed feeling of contentment with my Book Fair Lady lot in life and also pre-nostalgia. I did not even feel impatient when I received six questions about the cost of the posters ($5) in a ninety-second span, nor did I tire of explaining that the cupcake wasn’t an actual cupcake but a pencil sharpener. I just thought, it won’t be long until I will no longer be the Book Fair Lady, and then I might miss saying The posters are five dollars, yes, the Minecraft one is also five dollars, and so is the Batman one, they are all five dollars, yes, Shopkins too.

It’s wonderful that the kids are that excited, but even better was the fact that this year we’ve raised over $8500 for the library, ELL, and home reading programs. So I feel great satisfaction due to the money raised and general student happiness. This feeling even extended to doing the book reorders on Friday, since demand for certain items much exceeded supply. People, I had to order an all-time record of sixty-seven books. Nineteen of those were “Stampy’s Lovely Book,” which I had never heard about before. The cover was Minecraft-esque, so I wondered why I had never heard of Stampy, given my children’s penchant for crafting tables and the like. Jake informed me that Stampy is a YouTuber, but not one that he deems worthy of notice. “He’s super LAME, Mom,” he said when I asked about it. “He talks about Minecraft, but in a totally lame way.” Jake seems to be in the minority, however, given the clamouring for Stampy at the book fair. Tomorrow the orders come in, and I am wondering how to effectively manage my schedule. I’ve never had to distribute sixty-seven books before.

Time, it flies. On Wednesday I passed off my Book Fair duties to a couple of devoted volunteers (HI JEN HI BERNY) and I took Mark to the orthodontist. We now have a metal mouth in our midst! To be honest, I was expecting things to go, how shall I say this, not well. I was very pleasantly surprised; I think his expectations were so low that the whole experience was much better than anticipated. “I thought it would be like someone hot gluing metal in my mouth!” he said, which, what? I thought it was well explained to him but perhaps not.

In any case, he was sore for the first two days, and now seems to be just fine. He’s thrilled with the orthodontic swag bag given to him that included such thrilling things as an electric toothbrush and mouthwash. So all is happiness and roses in the Boy House.

Eating, Playing, and Making New Friends: It’s A Dog’s Life

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Since nothing says romance like spending the weekend with one’s in-laws, that is exactly what I did. Well, technically we visited my in-laws because it was a long weekend – the kids had Teacher’s Conventions and Monday was Family Day – but the former sounds funnier. It was a really nice weekend, and like the day after every long weekend, yesterday found me frantically catching up on various domestic duties.

Honestly, I know we are all in the same boat, I know this is the most tedious and mundane of topics, but does it ever amaze you the sheer amount of time spent doing things just to keep the household running smoothly? Laundry, for example. Yesterday I spent an enormous amount of time doing laundry, which only results in having to do laundry again today. I also went to two different grocery stores, took the kids to the dentist for a cleaning and checkup, and went to pick up the dog from the kennel. That, along with various meal preparations and resulting kitchen cleanups, comprised my entire day. God, I’m even boring myself talking about it. Domestic drudgery, I swear.

The bright light in my day was picking up the dog from the kennel. It was the first time he had gone to this particular kennel, which is actually not called a kennel at all, but a Pet Resort. The last time Barkley was boarded overnight was in December when we went to Orlando; I was picking him up from the kennel we had always used, and I happened to mention to the fellow working there that I would phone in a week or so to book him in again for this long weekend. I called and it went straight to voice mail. I tried back and it went straight to voice mail. I left a message and my phone number, and no one returned my call. This was around Christmas, so I figured things would be busy – dog boarders are notoriously busy over the holidays.

Something felt strange though, as I continued to call and get the voice mail. My husband and I were headed to Costco just after New Year’s, and I thought I would swing by the kennel to book him in, in person. I had a weird feeling, and sure enough, when we pulled up the sign was gone and a notice of closure was on the door.

First, imagine all the people who would be stranded for dog care during the holidays. Second, imagine all the unsuspecting people who would come to drop their dog off for boarding, only to discover that the kennel was closed. They did not inform any of their customers; I texted a friend who had her dog booked in at the end of January, and she had no idea.

Long story short, on many recommendations I booked Barkley into the Pet Resort and I am very happy I did. They gave him a report card when I came to pick him up, and it was glowing with praise for his friendly and social behaviour, and also his ability to eat no matter what the circumstances. He’s an A+ eater! Barkley had so much fun playing and making new friends was the comment on the report card. Just like when my babies gained the requisite amount of weight at their newborn checkups, and when later they passed dental checkups with nary a cavity, I felt a self-esteem surge at Barkley’s popularity at the Pet Resort. One might say I’m living vicariously through my dog, and taking credit where it is not due, but I will take a boost whenever I can.

Friday morning was foggy, and although to some of you that might sound like no big deal, we do not get a lot of fog on the Prairies. I had to drive Barkley to the Pet Resort, which is just west of the city. I have driven in snowstorms, blizzards, hail, and 90 km/hour wind gusts, but I have never driven in conditions like I did on Friday. The fog was so thick I couldn’t see the highway exit signs until I was just below them; I couldn’t see the cars 25 feet in front of me, and I couldn’t see the side of the road. It was so eerie, like I was actually just in a cloud instead of on the road. The problem was that although I knew approximately where the Pet Resort was, I didn’t know exactly, and I couldn’t see anything; no landmarks, no signs, nothing at all. If I hadn’t been worried about being hit by a similarly-disadvantaged driver, I would have pulled over on the shoulder to cry. As it was I kept telling myself to breathe deeply and to not cry. There was no way out but through, so to speak. I ended up taking several wrong turns in the small commercial district, and resorted to both calling the Pet Resort to try to tell them where I was – which was impossible because I couldn’t actually see where I was – and asking random strangers in parking lots how to get there. Turn at Tractorland, one fellow told me, and although I know that Tractorland is a giant yellow building, the fog was so thick I couldn’t even see it from the road. Finally I did end up in the right place, proving once and for all that even a blind squirrel gets a nut every once in a while.

I’ve got the power!

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I know what you’ve all been wondering: How did Nicole survive the Great Power Outage of 2016? Did she have to resort to grinding her own seed wheat in a handheld coffee grinder? Did she have to feed hand-twisted hay sticks into her fireplace just to keep warm? Did she play a song on her fiddle to keep her spirits up?

Answer: none of the above. Her coffee grinder is electric, her fireplace is gas and the pilot light has been unlit since 2005, and she has no fiddle, nor does she know how to play one.

I will tell you this, while switching back into the first person, that a power outage is not all that bad when you know it’s coming. First thing in the morning, I cranked the heat up from its usual 19 degrees to 23 so that by the time I left to take the kids to school, I was sweating. By the time the power went back on the temperature had only dipped to 18, so I call that a win. I spent most of the day running errands, walking the dog, and taking Mark to the orthodontist, so I wasn’t stuck in my dark and cooling-down house all day. My friend Janet (HI JANET) had tipped me off that Jugo Juice makes kale smoothies so I didn’t even have to go without.

The kids and I had lunch at the food court, where I had my smoothie and they enjoyed chicken fingers and fries, and I spent some time surreptitiously eavesdropping on the many teenage conversations around me. I forgot that the mall is essentially a teen hangout, especially at lunch and especially at a mall that is across the street from a high school and two junior highs. MY WORD THE DRAMA. Dylannnnn did you get me a doughnut? Fuck you, Dylannnnn kiss my asssssss I wanted a doughnuttttt. No, I think she still likes you, she’s just mad that you were talking to Jaden. Ugghhhhhh he’s so GROSS don’t talk with your MOUTH FULL GODDDDDD.

The power went back on half an hour before it was scheduled to, which was nice, since the backup battery of the carbon monoxide detector had died and the beeping was making me feel like I was going to lose my mind. I couldn’t figure out how to stop it, so basically every time it went off Barkley and I looked at each other, distressed. But the power was restored before I had completely descended into insanity, so all’s well that ends well.

I was a little worried that all was not well, though; as I was preparing to go to the School Council/ Parent Association meeting – that I was NOT chairing, thank you god – Jake called from downstairs saying that the computer wouldn’t turn on. And it was true; the power bar was plugged in, everything else was working, but the desk top – on which ALL my work, photos, writing, etc., was saved – was not turning on. Nothing, no sound, no fan, nothing.

Cue panic attack.

I called a computer repair company and told the technician my story. He thought it could be a damaged power supply – despite my surge protector – or possibly a fried motherboard. MOTHERFUCKER. I made an appointment with him and then did some deep breathing to calm down. Less than one hour later, the computer magically turned on. I felt like Cousin Eddie: “It’s the damnedest thing. She falls in a well, eyes go cross. A mule kicks her, they go back to normal. I don’t know.” I had to cancel the appointment, citing the “suddenly working and everything’s fine” thing, feeling slightly like I’m a drama queen who just made up a computer issue for fun.

I’m no Ma Ingalls, I’ll tell you that much. But if Ma Ingalls had electricity and access to small appliances, she’d probably love this:

icecream

Ice cream!

It all started when we were at a Ukrainian Christmas celebration, and our hostess had made her own ice cream. She pointed out that most “ice cream” is now called “frozen dessert,” and one thing led to another and suddenly my husband ordered me this beauty. I’m especially excited since non-dairy ice cream is ridiculously expensive, and now I can make my own! Today I’m making a classic vanilla for the boys, as a test run. The only issue here is that my family is ridiculously spoiled. I know, I know, pot and kettle, yada yada yada. BUT THEY ARE. Since I make so many things from scratch they won’t even eat certain store bought items. Case in point: a few weeks ago I bought some hummus.

Husband: What is this hummus?

Me: I bought it at Costco.

Husband: It’s terrible!

Me: It’s not bad. I’m eating it.

Husband: Ugh, I can’t eat this stuff. It’s terrible. It’s SWEET or something.

Mark, grabbing a pita, completely oblivious to the conversation: Mom, where’s the hummus?

Me: It’s right there.

Mark: Ew. I don’t want that. Where’s YOUR hummus?

They proceeded to eat their pitas completely dry, rather than eat the non-homemade-hummus.

Do you see where I’m going with this? It’s a slippery slope, but fortunately making one’s own ice cream is a pretty fun slippery slope to be on.

May all your blues be Monday. Or something.

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It’s Blue Monday! Mercury’s in retrograde, it’s January, and today has been calculated to be the most depressing day of the year. Maybe no one should communicate at all today, JUST IN CASE.

Well, blue is my favourite colour, and even if the algorithm has calculated it to be the saddest day of 2016, this morning the sun came out and the sky is gloriously blue. It looks just beautiful against the snow, and the temperatures are warming up this week. This is great news because in my panic last week, I didn’t realize that the seven-hour power outage is scheduled for THIS Wednesday, instead of LAST Wednesday. Good news: I will have had a week to prepare. Bad news: I will have had a week to fret, because what if they make a mistake and the power NEVER comes back on? Then what? I’ll never have a decent smoothie again, that’s what!

Oh, speaking of smoothies and related vegetables, I have a piece up at YMC about the high price of cauliflower. You know, no one wants to talk macroeconomics, but everyone wants to talk about cauliflower. Well, I tell you, they’ll pry those tiny $8 cauliflowers out of my cold dead hands before I give them up. My grandmother is probably turning in her grave, but a) I almost never go to Starbucks, b) I almost never eat out, c) we almost never have take-out, d) I WILL ENJOY MY EXPENSIVE CAULIFLOWER LIKE THE PRINCESS THAT I AM.

Gosh, we’ve become a spoiled, entitled society, haven’t we? Oh my god, the kale is like, not crisp at all. Ugh, what a rip-off. I feel like Louis C.K. but with vegetables. Let’s partake in the miracle of January avocados. We can have anything we want to eat at any time, we just have to pay for it. Sorry! But it’s true. There’s a trade-off for everything and in this case, it’s dolla dolla for your caula caula.

Not that I want to start living out the winter with nothing but sauerkraut the occasional piece of dried fruit like I’m a heroine in a Little House on the Prairie-esque drama, but I think you can see what I’m getting at.

In non-vegetable-related news, last Friday I chaperoned the last day of Mark’s field trip, and it was really fun. The kids learned all about stage fighting, so if anyone needs someone to be fake-choked, I am your Huckleberry. Related to this, the class is doing a unit on Greek mythology, so Mark is in his element. Next week they are having a fashion show, narrated in French, and Mark is dressing up in Greek fashion. This means that a few hours this weekend was devoted to the making of a cardboard-and-duct-tape sword and shield, along with a toga. I helped him make a toga out of an old sheet, and wondered if these skills would be used again some time down the road. Toga party!

Last week Barkley had a vet check-up and shots, and I will tell you this: I live in dread of the pet scale. Barkley likes his food, and at the vet clinic entrance is a huge poster that shows the decline in life expectancy for pets that are too fat. I try to watch his food, and buy low calorie dog treats, but he is what we might call curvy. I nervously had him sit on the scale…and he’s lost three pounds since last year! Three pounds! I practically did the Snoopy dance right there in the waiting room. He’s svelte! Or, as the vet says, “Still quite plump.”

Well then. He also needs dental scaling and that, along with my meeting this afternoon with the orthodontist to discuss Mark’s braces, is going to lead to financial wreck and ruin. Not really, but I might have to cut back on the cauliflower. Do me a favour: if I start jonesing for roast cauliflower, someone throw me a box of spinach or some other veggie methadone. xo

Panic at the (Electricity-Free) Disco

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Here I was, calmly going about my day, when I heard someone drop something in the mailbox. Hmmm…the mail is early today, I thought, and if my life was a (admittedly very boring) made-for-TV movie, some kind of ominous music would be playing. The soundtrack would then circle to the crazy-sounding, straight-to-the-asylum middle bars of A Day In The Life when I started reading the piece of paper that had been stuck in my mailbox.

People, the electric company is doing maintenance work on a generator in my neighbourhood, and the power is going to be off between 9 and 4 tomorrow. Seven hours with no electricity or heat; for a person who works from home, this is a nightmare on par with the one I have where I’m endlessly folding laundry and then I turn around and there is another, unfolded pile to be done.

Clearly, I would have been a terrible pioneer or settler, because the slightest hardship or inconvenience gives me a Panic At The Disco feeling. How will I make a smoothie tomorrow, I thought worriedly, like the spoiled princess that I am. Why couldn’t this happen during book fair, I thought, as if maybe the electric company was doing this strictly to inconvenience me.

Oh well. I was very productive today prior to this notice, and I have been utilizing our electrical appliances like crazy. I baked brownies and mini-muffins today, and let me just give a shout-out to my friend and YMC colleague Gwen, over at Delightful Adventures. I had been meaning to try her Vegan Gluten Free Gingerbread Loaf, but with regular gluten-full flour, and today I gave it a go. In addition to changing the flour, I also subbed in brown sugar and grapeseed oil, realized that I didn’t have cloves nor all-spice, and then decided to make it into mini-muffins instead of a loaf. In short, I was like one of those awful recipe commenters who say “This was terrible; I changed everything in the recipe and it didn’t work.” Except, it turned out awesome! I’m sure the original must be delicious too; check out Delightful Adventures if you love recipes and gorgeous food photography.

Like Jake’s class did last month, Mark’s class is on a week-long field trip. Unlike Jake’s class, which toured the Board of Education buildings and got to do thrilling things like discuss community collaboration and education funding and sit in on a school board trustee meeting, Mark’s class is actually doing something fun. They are at the Arts Commons, and they are making Greek masks, writing plays, and learning stage-fighting. Methinks Jake’s class got the short end of the stick. Mark’s “partner class” – the one they collaborate with most often – is on a similar field trip, in which they get to focus on Healthy Living. Games, physical activities, and making pizzas is on their agenda, which made me feel even more sorry for Jake’s class. I mean, the highlight for the entire class was seeing the fish tank in the indoor garden. I should point out that these field trips are assigned to the classes, and are not chosen by the teachers or the school – the school board runs them and it is considered a privilege to go. However. Fish tank viewing is not equal to learning to stage fight or making pizza.

Well. Life, as we know, is not always fair, and meanwhile when the power is out tomorrow I think I’ll take Jake out for lunch. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to go to the mall food court for lunch, which has never happened before in the history of his school experience; the mall food court being the epitome of fine dining for a ten-year-old boy.

Speaking of the mall, my mother was in town yesterday and we had a little visit and quick shopping trip. The trip to the mall reminded me why I almost exclusively shop online. People, the Old Navy is a hellhole. A yard sale set up by Mary Ingalls would be better organized. If I took everything out of my drawers and closet and piled it up on my bed, it would look somewhat like the Old Navy displays. It was a bit soul-sucking, but they had a table of boys’ t-shirts advertised for $5 each – discount taken at register! – and my mother chose one for each boy. Do I even need to tell the punch line to this? The discount was NOT taken at the register, and I left feeling like Old Navy Customer Service Has Gone To The Dogs. This $10 in Old Navy Cash feels like blood money, or at least bloody irritation money.

Well, I’m off to prepare for the coming apocalypse/ power outage, and fret that all our food is going to go bad. Fortunately for my comfort, it’s not going to be terribly cold tomorrow. Unfortunately for my food, if the power is off for longer than anticipated, my giant weekend grocery shop will be all for naught.