I wanna be Buffy's research assistant

Now that that thing I was doing this week is over, I’m relaxing with some wine and some Buffy.

So I just want to note that my summer research position* would be completely awesome if it were like the research they do on Buffy. I mean, who doesn’t want to get to use the word “viscera” while doing research? Don’t say CrimLaw researchers because, ew. Seriously, though–talk about your immediately useful research, eh?

*Yes, I am doing research this summer. There may have been hints (or outright statements) of this before. I actually have two part-time positions, leaving me with one full-time summer. It should be fun–full of library-ish goodness.

two three stories

The last several times I’ve gone to the grocery store and bought wine, I’ve ended up with the same checker. And every time, as she’s ringing up my purchases, she asks me to ring up the wine.

The first two or three times, I was confused. I thought she was busy or had her hands full, and wanted me to ring up the bottle to save time. But then I noticed that she wasn’t busy and why would she care about saving time? (This is a very low-key grocery store.)

I finally figured it out a couple of trips ago. She’s too young to ring up alcohol. I don’t know why the grocery store would hire her as a checker if she can’t ring up alcohol–particularly since this is a state where you can buy even hard liquor in the grocery store–but she’s a good checker, and polite, and seems to work hard. So I cheerfully ring up my own wine whenever I’m in her lane now.

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A few weeks ago I bought a pair of black flipflops from Old Navy. Their flipflops are so cheap–$2.50 or so–and they come in every color of the rainbow. I needed black ones, though, so I bought black ones. As soon as I got home, I pulled off the tag and the plastic hanger and put them on. But something was wrong with them.

You know how the straps on plastic flipflops are molded into a certain curve? A high curve on the inside strap and a low curve on the outside strap? That’s so when you put them on, the straps curve around your feet, where your feet sit on the shoe. All flipflops are like this.

Except that pair of black flipflops. One shoe was right, with a high curve on the inside and a low curve on the outside. The other one was backwards. I put them on and they just felt funny, so I looked down and I could see that they were just wrong.

Today I took them back, planning to buy a non-defective pair. But every pair of black flipflops above a size 6 was wrong. All of them! I tried to find a pair where the correct shoe in the pair would be a mate to the correct shoe I already had. But no. All of them were wrong–on the same foot.

So I bought a pair of gold wedgy flipflops instead. They were more expensive. But they are also cuter, and they are not defective.

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I bought my mom the best Mother’s Day card today. To understand it requires some backstory, though.

What you specifically need to know is that my mom has probably not cooked a meal in about ten years. Oh, maybe she’s thrown a salad together, or a deli plate for guests. She might have poached a piece of salmon at some point. But, on the whole, my mother doesn’t cook.

Which isn’t to say that she can’t cook. She can. Pretty well, too. (Her liver and onions are really terrific, and that I can say that about liver and onions is a testament to the truth of the previous sentences.) The thing is that she went back to school when we were kids, and she also worked full time, so she wasn’t home to cook dinner most nights. My brother (and I, to a very minimal extent) cooked instead.

When my mom met my stepfather, she hit the jackpot because, honey, he can cook. My brother and I stopped making as many dinners and my stepfather took over the meal-making duties. And that’s been the status quo for quite a while now.

So I couldn’t resist the card. On the front is a cute, fifties photo of a little girl next to her mom, who is lying on the couch. It says, “Mom, you deserve a relaxing day.”

Open it up, and you get the kicker: “But then who would make dinner? Happy Mother’s Day.”

It is the perfect card. It makes me laugh every time I look at it. I should stop looking at it, though, and pop it in the mail.