Give Me My Bacon

As I type this, I am trying my best to remain calm. My nerves have been shaken to my core; I feel myself breaking out in a cold sweat and I hear an odd buzzing in my ears. Why, you ask? Am I getting the flu? Oh no, although I wish it was something as simple as that. ​

No, my friends, my heart palpitations are over the disturbing news I read today courtesy of the LA Times. It seems the world is bracing for a...for a...for a...PORK SHORTAGE! Yes, according to the news report, drought conditions have lessened the pigs food crop, resulting in a decline in herds. A decline in herds? What is this nonsense? We can put a man on the moon (well, not anymore, but we used to) but we can't prevent a shortage in the Best Meat of all time? How can this be? We can talk to someone across the world 24 hours a day, but we can't provide bacon? This is a travesty of unspeakable proportions. (I have always wanted to say that.)

​My friends, however, aren't buying the story. I mean, they believe there could be a shortage, but they don't think it's drought related; they think it's Missy related. In my defense, all I can is this:

I've Failed as a Parent

As parents, we want the best for our children. 

We want to raise them correctly, teaching them right from wrong. We want to develop their ability to problem solve and strengthen their sense of logic and reasoning. We want them to tackle tasks, both new and mundane, with vigor and confidence, knowing that upon completion they will bask in the warm glow of accomplishment. ​

​Like all parents, I want these things for my children, but it has become altogether evident that somewhere along the line, I have failed in my parenting skills. It is now clear that I am raising children who, when faced with a simple task, become perplexed and confused. As tiny children, they were so quick to stack the little plastic rings on their toy that I felt I had prodigies.

​But I see now that something has gone terribly wrong. I might need to seek help.

They had NO problem with the baby toy​​

​But somehow, this eludes them.

Don't Make Me Open Up a Can of Whoopie-Pie On You

Dear Starbucks in the Old Navy Shopping Center,

I appreciate you.

I appreciate that when I am doing some Old Navy shopping, filling my bag with “Fleece for the Whole Family,” you are there on the corner to meet my caffeine needs. And because I am a whore for convenience, and usually opt for locations with drive-thrus, it is unusual for me to actually park my car and walk into a Starbucks. You are my exception.

With that in mind, let me say that I am very, very disappointed in your behavior as of late. I drove to your store last Sunday evening. I was bone tired and in need of a little Starbucks cheer. I had Whoopie Pie on the brain and could almost taste that creamy red velvet treat. As I pulled up to the store and glanced inside, I saw the chairs turned over onto the tables. Anticipation turned to dismay as I wondered if you were closed. Upon closer inspection, I noticed the hours on the door read that you close at 7pm. It was only 6:15.

As I entered the store, the two employees behind the counter seemed less than thrilled to see me. As did the guy leaning on the counter, drinking his coffee, and conversing with said two employees. I placed my order. It was only for a coffee. Why no pastry delights, you ask? Let me think…oh, yes, I remember…

BECAUSE YOU HAD ALREADY PULLED THEM ALL FROM THE PASTRY CASES.

6:15 and you had de-pastried the cases. I felt violated. I was as though I had slipped into some alternate universe where coffee cakes and whoopie pies are dangled just out of reach.  And because I COULDN’T have them, I wanted them even more.

To make matters worse, when my Amerciano was ready, the barista handed me a a 1/2 gallon jug of cream. A JUG, I say! It seems they had already cleared out their standard silver dairy pitchers and, instead, were handing customers a big ass jug of half-and-half, instead. I’ll bet had I arrived later, they would have thrown a canister of powdered non-dairy creamer at me.

Now, Starbucks by Old Navy,  I don’t expect you to be open when I want you to be open. That would be lovely, but I am sensible enough to realize that the world does not revolve around me and my Coffee and Whoopie Pie needs. I do, however, expect you to offer your customers  the same experience and products 45 minutes before closing that one would find earlier in the day.

I was nice about it THIS time, but I make no guarantees if it happens again.

Nobody stands between me and a Whoopie Pie.