got cookies?

Yesterday, A___ and I made a trip to the fabric store. It's a terrible place to be. I mean, it's nice but depending on how busy it is, it can really suck a lot.

The goal of the trip was to pick up some heavyweight fabric for A___ to use as winter curtains. I say to use as since although I own a sewing machine and presumably do know how to sew, the machine sucks severely. It's the Singer Touch and (Don't) Sew. I just found the machine on a page with the title "Relics", so that tells you what we're dealing with here. It's not a good relic either. You can go see pictures here. Years ago when I was living in Ann Arbor, my mother pulled a switch on me. She said she'd bring my machine out but instead used the opportunity to substitute her piece of crap Touch and Don't machine for my own, which was much nicer and genuinely easy to use. Now this may not have been actually as devious as I make it out to be. She might have just been so drunk that she didn't know which machine was hers and which was mine. Either way, I'm stuck with the relic. Which means larger scale sewing endeavors involve glue guns and oversized safety pins more often than they involve any actual sewing. Given this sorry state of affairs, I was not about to use the Singer to teach A___ how to sew. My contribution to this project was helping to isolate areas of the massive fabric store where there would be stuff like cheap heavy fabrics (remnants table in the home decorating section) and velcro ("What the fuck are notions?").

After navigating the parking lot and alternately cringing and laughing at soccer moms and dads in SUVs - they drive as if the SUV could somehow be made smaller and less offensive through ambivalence and hestitancy - we were greeted at the store entrance by a table covered in GIRL SCOUT COOKIES!

Two young girls were dressed up like cookies and two women sat at the table handling the cookie money. One of the girls wore a Peanut butter Patties costume (aka Tagalongs) and the other had on a Peanut butter Sandwich outfit (Do-Si-Dos). As people came through the entryway, the girls were deployed. "Would you like to buy some girl scout cookies?!" they shouted, dancing around. "Oh yes indeed I would" I said. I went into the store, promising to catch them on the way out. Surprisingly, I thought the kids looked cute. I still do. But in retrospect, I realize it may have been the proximity of all those cookies casting a sort of enduring glamour over the scene.

On our way out, A___ got hung up because even though he was buying the entire 2.8 yards of remnant left on the roll, he had to have it "cut" before he could check out...which he found out as the sales clerk rang him up. Who knew? While poor A___ had to go back to the cutting table, I ducked out to choose my cookies. I ended up buying a box of thin mints and a box of what are now known as "Carmel Delites" but which in my cookie selling days were called "Samoas". Standing there in my cookie daze, I watched as women passed the table, looking tempted but refusing the cookies, mostly on stated grounds like "Oh I sure don't need cookies!"

I, however, sure DO need cookies. While my weight is finally no longer going down, I still can't break 120. The antibiotics I've been taking for the ear infection I got (the result of the cold that was kicking my ass all break) aren't doing wonders for my appetite this week. So eating right now is sort of a chore. I was also one day premenstrual and in a bit of a shitty mood on account of having the last week of winter break wasted in febrile, dizzy, and half deaf stupor. I feel I quite legitimately need the cookies.

After I realized it had been a while, I called A___'s cell phone. "Hey...I've got cookies...where are you?" "Still at the table" he said. I could hear forlorn note of store fatigue in his voice. Largely loathing shopping myself, I empathize completely. I came to the table wearing a garland of green and white silk carnations, waving my bag o'cookies, and yelling "Erin go braaarrrrggggh!" The women waiting in a semi-organized cluster around the table glared at me and then went back to glaring at A___. "Is there even the semblance of a line here?" I asked, too loudly. "No, I don't think so," said A___. "Ok, Fuck this, come on -" I said and headed for a counter in a less hostile section. We found one in quilting. "I think they were mad at me for standing on the wrong side of the cutting table," A___ admitted as we walked. Probably. I'm sure my festive Irish foliage didn't help.

As I left the store the second time, the Peanut butter sandwich jumped in my path. "Would you like to buy some..." she started, then pulling her hat off her eyes she laughed and said "Hey I recognize you! You bought cookies!" "Yep. Get him though!" I whispered to her and pointed at A___. A___ bought another thin mints and a box of shortbread cookies (aka Trefoils). We are way stocked up on cookies, to my complete and utter delight (caramel, minty, and otherwise).