Graveyard of Abandoned Carts

(This may end up being the first in a series of periodical pet peeves....we'll see.)

Why do people find it so hard to put shopping carts away? Is it laziness? Is it selfishness? Is it apathy? Don't they know what happens to those wayward carts?

Leaving the Whole Foods parking lot today, I found myself stunned by the number of abandoned carts. As I looked around, I realized the number of stalls was surprisingly limited. And, they were spaced a good distance. However, isn't this the place where people who "care about the world" shop? Wouldn't it make sense that if carts were going to make it out of the way of cars and pedestrians, they would here?

I'm not really sure what motivates, or should I say, un-motivates, people to leave their carts where they last used them, but in my opinion, it's just plain rude.

So here's a challenge to all of you...return your cart the next time you're out and about. Try to look at a short walk to the cart stalls as a bonus opportunity for some exercise. It's small, but it's a step in the right direction...don't you think?

A Mixed Basket

I am kind of a date-obsessed person, I guess. I remember dates. Dates of important events. Dates of extremely non-important events. I always looked at it as a blessing; a skill. A "lookey what I can do" kind of trick. But lately I am feeling somewhat trapped by it.

On the one hand, I have something to look forward to tomorrow. It'll be the 18th anniversary of my first date with my husband. We always celebrate it. That's when our life story together began, afterall. I can recall the days leading up to the date. I savor the memories of our very first night out. (That's another blog one of these days...)

The day after that, however, I am not looking forward to. In fact, I'd rather hide under the covers until it passes. It'll be the 3rd anniversary of my mother's death. Thanks to my stunning visual memory skills, I can remember everything about her last week on this planet; every detail. I feel almost haunted by it.

So this leaves me with a mixed bag, or should I say basket, of emotions this Easter Sunday. Holidays just aren't the same without my mom. Nothing is. But in addition to this fact, my husband and I are finding ourselves growing out of "traditional thinking boxes" mold. I want to be open. I want to be free.

So, why do I feel so out of sorts?

To speak or not to speak...?

A dear friend of mine has suggested that everyone blog everyday. Maybe a lofty goal for me, but I figured I would try to rise to the challenge. We'll see how long it lasts. Now for a quick confession...It's been a little over a year since my last blog entry.



What struck me all day yesterday was how conflicted I was over putting my money where my mouth is. You see, I have spent the past dozen years trying to teach my two daughters that it doesn't matter what others say or think about you. It's who you are on the inside that counts. As long as you are happy with yourself, that's all that really matters. Don't give in to the pressure to conform. Be who you are. And yadda-yadda-yadda.



Then, as we were about to leave for lunch and errands as a family, my 11 year old comes downstairs in a startling contrasting outfit. Imagine: stripes, plaids, and other patterns, all in opposing color schemes. It was ecclectic enough that my "break out of the mold" husband bent down to whisper in my ear, "Are you seriously going to let her leave the house like that?"



Good question....and so it began; my struggle with do I say something or not. Am I a better parent for trying to save her from embarassment and ugly stares or comments? Or I am better for accepting her and allowing her to find and express herself? If it really doesn't matter what you look like on the outside, then why I am so troubled with opening the front door?



Well, we left and I kept mum. I decided that sometimes life's best lessons just happen on their own. Whether it would be her learning a styling lesson or me learning to practice what I preach, a lesson would be a good thing for the first day of spring.