Grass seed and thrift shopping delights
We were standing in the checkout line, Better Half beside me holding this big bag of grass seed, when it struck me funny.
“So we’re buying grass seed to plant grass so grass will grow, so we’ll have to buy gas so we’ll have to mow, right?” I wanted to confirm the cruel irony of it all.
It almost sounded like a “This Is the House that Jack Built” kind of line.
“Yes,” Better Half said, slowly shaking his head to the inquiry that gave him a chuckle and made him temporarily reconsider anew the rocks or grass seed decision for a part of the yard needing attention.
“Maybe you should put that in your column,” he suggested.
And so I am, because the days leading up to column creation are ones that foster observations and hence commentary on the stuff of life, as I call it.
That stuff includes the celebration of small victories that bring big smiles.
In an impromptu thrift shopping outing, for example, I was casually scouting for what dress pants I could find, since the change of seasons means I wear more slacks than skirts.
Lo and behold, I come across plenty of what look to be nice pants, including a pair of dressy brown ones, a good brand name even, and the original tag is still on them for $36.
Well, what have we here, I’m thinking to myself, feeling a little giddy when I see they’re marked for $5.
I snatched them up and headed to the dressing room, making the discovery that they actually fit quite nicely, not at all the “Barbie doll clothes fit” as Better Half sometimes assesses when he politely tells me some things are “a little snug.”
Wow. Wonderful. To the checkout line I go, where the clerk informs me that because of the color tag on this item on this particular day, it’s on sale – get this – for $1.
One George Washington!
I refrained from doing the happy dance in the checkout line, but secretly felt a round of applause was in order for the lucky shopper, please.
Counting that and three other items, I spent a grand total of $9 and some odd cents on that shopping spree.
I shared the news of that victory that day with anyone who wanted to listen and anyone who didn’t.
The news that the furnace kicked over the other night, however, wasn’t the kind of happy news I like to report as I sadly release what has been way too short of a summer.
I mentioned it to my co-workers with a heavy heart, as cooler weather also means I activate the oven – out come the chicken pot pies, in go the brownies, on go the pounds.
Fall is here and so, too, my accelerated appetite, but the cooler temperatures don’t necessarily mean I’m in the “I feel cold” camp.
Of course in living with my mother now, who is cold when it’s 84 degrees out and campaigning all the while for screens to be shut and doors closed, I fear it will be a long, long beads-of-sweat kind of winter for yours truly.
So I guess I’ll just have to hang in there and look forward to spring and the growth of new grass and all the mowing joy that it will bring.
(Kiaski, a Steubenville resident, is a staff columnist and features writer for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times and community editor for the Herald-Star. She can be contacted at email@example.com.)