17 July 2015


I was wandering the aisles of Target, as I am wont to do, partly to stretch my legs and partly to stretch time. Also, I occasionally forget to bring my list and wandering this way helps to jog my memory a bit. I can't tell you how many times I would have walked out the store without a pair of shoes or a notebook that I needed, had I not spotted it perusing as I do.

So yes, I was wandering and found myself in housewares. Two girls walked down the same aisle, one reading from a list and the other grabbing items from the shelves. Tumblers! Plates! Oven mitts!

Oven mitts were in the next aisle. The girl charged with grabbing the items walked over and called to her friend, "Oven mitts are $4.95. Wait a second. Uh, yeah. They're $4.95."

Now, I know that a set of oven mitts from Target costs $4.95. I also know that a single oven mitt is a few dollars more and just happens to be right next to the set of three. I know this because just last week I bought the set and promptly returned it for the single mitt after I used it and burned my hand getting a pan out of the oven.

Should I have disclosed this information concerning the quality of the mitts? It might have been the responsible thing to do, yes. But then again, all signs pointed to these girls stocking up on first college apartment essentials. Who am I to take away from this time teeming with learning experiences? And, if we're being honest, I'm a good ten years older than they are and just learned the hard way to buy the better oven mitt. (Which I'm still on the hunt for, if we're being really honest.)

So I tucked that obscure bit of knowledge away and went on to finish my errands. After a quick stop at Whole Foods, I sat in my car and opened a little snack for the drive home. If I recall, the purpose of my solo trip might have been to procure some chocolate. I also took a picture of it because the entire evening just wasn't ridiculous enough. These are delicious and I do recommend you try them.

As I drove home, pondering on the twinge of guilt I felt for not doing my part to potentially prevent burns via bad oven mitts, I got to thinking about how much ridiculous knowledge is in my brain, fighting for space among my more intelligent, cohesive thoughts, my ongoing to-do and to-buy and to-research later lists, the location of everyone's blankets and animals (stuffed, mind you). Add in staying current on world happenings, remembering whose Saltwaters buckle on the third hole and whose buckle on the fourth, what day the power bill is due, and the lyrics to Whip My Hair, and, you guys, my head is threatening to implode any day. Just not Tuesday, please. I have to remember to take my three-year-old to school.

I decided then that I should really get around to starting up a blog again. The world needs to know what oven mitts are cheap (metaphorically speaking) and I need to free up some space in my mind. Does anyone remember the episode of Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego in which The Chief hires someone to come in and extract her memories, as she's running out of brain space? I so get that now. And I hardly blame her. Can you even imagine how much geographical trivia alone she was toting around up there?

And so, behold: This blog. In all its mumbling, jumbling, sometimes it will make wonderful sense, glory. In lieu of, you know, memory extraction.

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