zippers are the devil

This past weekend, my sister, Pee (yes-that-is-her-real-nickname), and I took my mom on a mother/daughter/granddaughter weekend for her birthday.

We went to Lancaster, PA, which is far enough away to feel like a getaway but close enough that it's not an unbearable trip for a toddler, a second grader, a fifty-something grandma and 2 thirty-something sisters, one of which has to pee every 5 seconds.  I'll let you guess which sister that is.  Hint #1: Her nickname rhymes with "wee".  Hint #2:  It's not me.

As you may know, Lancaster, PA, is home to the Amish.  

BTW, have you seen the TLC show, "Breaking Amish"?  It's kind of like MTV's Real World, only with Amish kids.  It may or may not come on after "Here comes Honey Boo-Boo", which I may or may not have watched more than one episode of.

BTW, did you know that I am so old that I remember the first season of Real World?  We didn't have MTV at my house, but somehow I remember being mildly obsessed with in back in the day.  

Anyway, back to the Amish.  This part of PA is beautiful.  I'd love to live there.  We saw horse & buggies, a man who was the doppelganger of the grandfather on the movie "Witness", women gardening in skirts, and lots of signs for homegrown pumpkins.  

One sign (handwritten on cardboard) said:

Custom Shelling

Peas/Beans/Limas

410-555-1234

Which begs the question:  What kind of person grows their own peas, beans or limas, yet feels the need to have someone else shell them?  Really?  You grow your own peas but you call in a custom sheller?  Maybe that's for the upper-class Amish.  The kind of Amish who can afford to pay to have somebody else sit and pop open those pods and fling the beans into a pan.  I can hear the gossips now.

"Yah.  Dat Zook voman gets her limas custom-shelled.  She rode by me on her buggy dis mornin' and didn't even look my vay.  Thinks shes' sometin', she does." (Not sure if this is how they talk, but this is how they talk in my head.)

I tried to get my sister to turn around so I could take a picture of the sign, but she refused and said she would just write it on cardboard when we got back to the hotel and I could take a picture of it.  #itsnotthesame 

And I'd just like to point out here, that if you have never shelled beans or peas or limas before, you are missing out in life.  It's actually kind of fun.  If you don't know what "shelling" is, get out of my blog.  Clearly, we are from different planets and speak different languages.  Not really.  I only have like 2 readers and I can't afford to be that picky.  But someday, when I am a blogging giant, I will weed out all of the people who don't know what "shelling" is. Maybe others, too.  But the non-shellers shall be the first to be shunned.  

Anyway, nevermind about that, back to more Amish stuff.  

We also saw tobacco drying in the giant barns.  It's quite beautiful.  

However, it begs the question:  Why can the Amish not have zippers but growing tobacco is okay?  

Zippers=devil......Tobacco=perfectly acceptable?    

Something is wrong here and I think that if I became Amish, I might have to mention that.  I would probably get shunned within 5 hours of being there.  Maybe less.  Hopefully I could make it long enough to at least try some homemade bread or schnitzel or something.

Hey, there's a show for TLC.  Nevermind "Breaking Amish".  It should be "Becoming Amish" and it could follow regular people who want to become Amish.  I'm pretty sure there would be more crying involved.  And probably more tobacco.  

You heard it here first.  

TLC, I want my cut.  

Because I'm sure that someone from TLC might read this.  

Hey, they found Honey Boo Boo, right?

Ketchup with the Frys is just slightly more refined than Honey Boo Boo.  Slightly.  I think I might have more fart references.  But less double chins.  Slightly.

 

                                      

winner winner chicken dinner

See update at the end of this post.

If you thought this post was about chicken, I'm sorry, but it's not.

That was my last post, "an apology to fried chicken & the universe".

Today's post is a great big WOOOOO-HOOOOOO because I actually won something on another blog & I just wanted to brag about it let everyone know about it.

The blog is called When You Rise.


It has lots of great ideas for teaching your children about God.  Not only that, but there are some great parenting posts as well as sweet, sweet giveaways!

I won the Jesus Storybook Deluxe Edition, which is awesome because who doesn't like Jesus and who doesn't like a storybook and who doesn't like a deluxe edition?  I am totally excited to receive this.  I saw the review of it on When You Rise and I thought it sounded like a great book to have, but I  am ultra cheap and poor  did not purchase it.

So thank you, When You Rise!  It's awesome to be a winner and even more awesome to win something that you actually like and will use!  Hooray!

Update:  I received my prize and I just wanted to give another shout out to When You Rise for the great giveaway.  It is a wonderful book and I think it would make a great Christmas gift for any child.  It would also make a great baby shower gift.  The pictures are very nice and the text is written so that it's enjoyable to read out loud.  (I just read those last few sentences and it sounds very cheesy and almost like someone is paying me to say that.  I wish.)
Also, in other news, I needed to find a doctor so I finally bit the bullet and went for an appointment.  In the waiting room?  The Jesus Storybook Bible.  I felt like it was kind of a sign.  Or a coincidence.  Call it whatever you like, but it made me smile.  I took a picture with my phone.  As you can see, that book could really be any book because of the terrible picture.  Take my word.  It's the Jesus Storybook Bible.  I would not lie about that.  Other things?  Maybe.  Jesus Storybook Bible?  No way.  I have standards, people.  

an apology to fried chicken and the universe

This past week has not been my finest.

I have ticked off people right and left.

At last count, it was 4.

There could be more, because I have the gift of social blindness where sometimes my mouth spilleth over, people look at me in horror, and I never realize it.  So, it really could be more like 12.

Anyway, I had what I am now calling the "fried chicken incident" with a local grocery chain.  It was not my finest moment.

We stopped by to purchase some fried chicken to take to our church picnic.

I go to the deli where the fried chicken is located.  The chicken is in 2 covered containers with tongs sticking out of them and bags and boxes located right next to it.  There is a sign that says "8 piece chicken - $6.99".  There is another sign that says "Please call ahead for large orders of fried chicken".  I look to see if there is an employee b/c I figured maybe I needed a sticker or something.  After standing there for awhile, I finally decided that since the tongs were there sticking out, maybe I was supposed to just get my own chicken.  Which I did.

Now, let me just say that I don't live under a rock.  I know that an "8 piece chicken" usually refers to 2 wings, 2 legs, 2 thighs & 2 breasts.  However, when I started looking through the chicken, I only saw one thigh.  So then I looked to see if the sign specified how many of each.  It did not.  So I got the one thigh, 2 legs, and 5 breasts.  8 pieces.  I double bagged it so it wouldn't be greasy and went to the checkout.

Here's how the checkout went down:
Clerk (holding the chicken):  "You didn't get a sticker?"

Me:  "No, the sign says 8 pieces for $6.99.  I have 8 pieces."

Clerk:  "Well, I have to weigh it and you pay by the pound if I don't have a sticker and it's really expensive."

Me:  "That's not what the sign says, but that's fine.  I just need the chicken."

The clerk calls over a supervisor & explains.
Supervisor (with a raised eyebrow): "Do you have 2 wings, 2 legs, 2 thighs, and 2 breasts?"

Me:  "No.  The sign did not specify what to get.  Also, there was only one thigh back there, so how could I get 2 thighs?"

Supervisor:  "Well, you're supposed to get someone to help you."

Me (starting to get mad, but still calm):  "Well, there wasn't anyone back there and I stood there for a long time."

Supervisor: "Sometimes you have to go over to the deli and ask for help."

Me: "Why are there tongs facing the customer side if I'm not supposed to get the chicken myself?"

Supervisor: "That's for people who just want to get like one piece of chicken.  You have to get help if you want a lot of chicken.  There's a sign."

Me (full on mad at this point because I'm arguing about fried chicken):  "Yes, I read the signs.  They say "8 piece chicken $6.99 and call ahead for large orders.  I didn't think 8 pieces was a large order.  That seems pretty standard to me."

Supervisor (jamming the key into the register and rolling her eyes):  "Well, I don't know why there's nobody back there and there IS a sign."

Me (shaking with rage):  "IT SHOULDN'T BE THIS HARD TO BUY CHICKEN. I know none of this is your fault, but maybe you should tell the store manager to change the layout back there by either removing the tongs or making a 12-step instruction manual to purchase fried chicken."  I didn't say the part about the 12 step instruction manual, but I thought it.

Supervisor overrides the price and walks away.
Clerk:  "I'm really sorry."
Me: "It's ok, not your fault."
I left with my chicken and we ended up not going to the church picnic.  So then we ate the chicken for dinner and also for dinner the next day.  I'm pretty sure there's a Bible verse somewhere about eating fried chicken in anger on the corner of a roof gives you heartburn or something.

I don't know why, but little things like this sometimes send me over the moon.  I stewed about that chicken all afternoon.  Finally, I decided to go online & complain.  A few days later, I got an email which apologized for my experience and said they would send me a $25 gift card.

It took everything in me not to send back an email that said keep your gift card, I'm still mad.   Instead, I sent an email and said thank you very much for your response and for the gift card.

Like I said earlier, I have done shenanigans like this all week long to no less than 4 people.   This is the only one safe to blog about because if I talked about the other ones, people would know who I am talking about. I feel the need to apologize to fried chicken for bringing it down to my level and also to the rest of the universe for generally being a troll this week.

I'm pretty sure I've reached a new low since I just apologized to fried chicken.
Feel better about yourself?  You're welcome.