shopping carts.

i hate carts. always have. i'm strictly a basket gal,
or a just-carry-it-in-your-hands gal.
which isn't exactly  conducive to large shopping trips.


(i'm not a good grocery shopper, illustrated by the following paragraph. sorry parker.)


i probably looked really stupid today in sam's club, then.
i had two big tubs of strawberry yogurt in one arm while that hand held pre-cooked bacon.
the other arm was carrying cinnamon toasters ($3.24 people!)
like it would probably carry a wiggly 6-month-old.


i should really look into using carts.

(that neon green grass can't be faked, ladies and gentlemen.)

this is why i can't have things like this in my house.

while perusing pinterest, i came across this gem.

i only mean gem because i read this in a very, very different way than what the creator intended.

see, i never called my grandfather figures "papa." my granddad was always granddad and the general was never really my grandpa to begin with since we really aren't related. and then there's sheridon, my grandma's new husband, who is great, but is the-grandpa-currently-known-as-sheridon.

so, papa, in my eyes, is just another word for dad.

therefore, this little plaque became very disturbing, very quickly.

(it wasn't until about a minute afterward that i realized, "ahhh. papa. like what my niece and nephews call my father-in-law. oops.")