Saturday, January 23, 2010

Stuff and Nonsense

So, the other day it's raining and I'm trying to find a table in Panera (it's always raining here lately; it's like I moved to Seattle without my knowledge) and it's crowded in there and loud and suddenly I'm like Dear God, am I having a hot flash? Because I am freakin' burning up and feel like I might pass out.

Well, hot flashes are going to have to wait. Because what I was having was a wog. (A note: I have recently begun Googling words that I use in this blog to be sure I'm using them correctly. And imagine my chagrin when I just saw on Wikipedia that yeah, sure, "wog" is "Australian slang for illness," but it's also British and Australian slang for racial slur. Hello! It's such a cute little word! Now I must retire it!)

So, yeah, I was getting sick. And somehow I got a bit better, and then sicker STILL, so that I've completely lost my voice now. I mean, I can't talk. Readers, do you know what this is doing to me? Me NOT TALKING? It's like the sun not coming out for a week. Oh right, that's happening, too.

But it's particularly inconvenient this evening, because I am supposed to MC the preschool dinner auction, and that seems a bit of a tall order for someone who emits a little raspy squeak when she tries to yell at her child. I mean, really.

So that's what's happening here. Oh, I've been holding back on sharing the outcome of the Vanilla Coffee Treasure Hunt, because I suddenly got a bit self-conscious that, well, maybe some of you are starting to think I'm a bit off in the head. Which maybe you thought already, but still. And if you're thinking "Oh, she's just fishing for reassurance that we would never think such a thing," then, well, yeah.

So I'll keep this brief. David mapped out a route (seriously, he found an app for that) between seven potential coffee oases, and we hit them one by one. The first five yielded bubkes. (That is Jewish/Yiddish slang for "nothing," and there's nothing offensive about it, unless you're a chicken.) I was getting a little panicky. Actually, I was starting to despair. Then, suddenly, I found two tins in the CVS right near our house (the map took us outbound first.) There was singing and rejoicing in the streets. I started to get a little crazy, and checked all the supermarkets and liquor stores we passed. Nope. But mildly satisfied with two, we knocked off for dinner at the Outback Steak House (how funny is it that no one ever notices David is Australian when we go there?) and there was one more CVS nearby.

And the entire shelf of French Vanilla was old school. FIVE TINS. Bringing me to a grand total of seven for the quest. Not too shabby. David was a total downer and pointed out the expiration dates on the bottom: March for two of them, February for the other five (however, like Twinkies, these babies will probably still be standing after the apocalypse.) "Still," he opined, striving for a mournful tone, "it probably means you won't find any more after a month or so."

"DON'T SPEAK." I said, holding up a finger. Not that one, Readers. Give me a little credit, even though I'm the crazy lady with the coffee fetish.

10 comments:

Jennifer said...

I honestly love that you have a coffee fetish! It makes me feel better about my candle fetish. When Yankee Candle discontinued my favorite scented candle, I had the sales lady at my Yankee Candle store call around to all the other stores for me. I only found two. Then of course I started checking the Yankee Candle outlets and even recently happened upon one lone candle a year after the scent was discontinued. So don't give up hope! You may stumble upon your precious coffee when you least think you will.

Sam said...

Jennifer, you always make me feel better! :) Seriously, not to get all sentimental on a winter afternoon, but I wish we could hang out in real life. :)

Also, please tell me your YC scent--we have an outlet here and I'd like to check for you. :)

BridgetCarle said...

Are you kidding? I love you better for your quest for old school coffee. :)

This line: "DON'T SPEAK." I said, holding up a finger. Not that one, Readers.

Love it.

~Caroline Bridges

Jen said...

Oh, joy! I'm so happy to hear you've found a stash, whatever its sell by date. In my experience, when that stuff expired, it just gets hard as a rock. You can chip off the appropriate amount and douse it in boiling water and I think you'll be good to go. ;-)

Love the photo. And sorry about your voice!

xo
Miss J

DrSpouse said...

I always thought it was spelled "bupkiss" but it's probably one of those words I've never actually seen written.

(and I cannot even bring myself to type that other word so you are going to have to tell me what it means that ISN'T one of the most horrendous racial epithets I know...)

The Wades said...

I laughed out loud like four times in this post. Really funny one. Simple, yet awesome. :) Some of my fave lines:

"(it's always raining here lately; it's like I moved to Seattle without my knowledge)" So funny! Plus, extra points for knowing how to use a semi colon. :)

"It's like the sun not coming out for a week. Oh right, that's happening, too."

". . .because I suddenly got a bit self-conscious that, well, maybe some of you are starting to think I'm a bit off in the head." :) I've tried three stores so far--no luck.

OK, dorky me signing off.

Hope you feel better soon.

Mary said...

Congrats on the treasure hunt!

How was the auction?

Feel better soon!

oxoxo

Mary

MelADramatic Mommy said...

I bought a chai at Costco ages ago and fell in love with it. Of course, Costco stopped carrying it. I looked in all my local stores that the company website said would carry it. I had my mom looking too.

I left notes in the suggestion boxes asking stores to carry it. I considered buying the industrial coffee house sized container but couldn't justify the price and shipping.

The, glory be, Costco started carry it again. I bought three containers. I made those puppies last and just as my last container is winding down, Costco brings it back once more. I have a fresh container in the garage and all is right with the world.

Joan said...

Sorry to hear you are feeling poorly. To be ill with a 'wog' is still a widely understood expression in Australia, but we might say also that of someone who has picked up a widely circulating virus that they have 'the dreaded lurgie'. No one ever has a simple 'lurgie'; it must always be 'dreaded'.

'Wog' as a racial slur is rarely heard today except as a self-referential jokey term by Italian or Greek Australians who were once subjected to this term of abuse after WW2 when they came in large numbers to Australia as immigrants.

Its origin, however, was much earlier, possibly 1850s, when the targets for abuse were Chinese immigrants on the goldfields. WOG was purportedly a reference to 'Wily Oriental Gentlemen'.

Hope you are well on the way to recovery.

Love J&J

Sam said...

@Mel: I'm so glad the chai is back! Yay! :)

@Joan: VERRRRY interesting! I appreciate that little lesson! :)