To Shop > To Skewer

It took me about four years to replace my blunt-edged can opener. Finally, after nearly impaling myself with a carving knife while trying to pry open a lid, it occurred to me that money can be exchanged for goods or services.  Twenty dollars provided me with  an ergonomically correct machine that “unseals” lids rather than saws them open. Now, every time I open a can of refried beans, I marvel at how safe and easy it is to make a quesadilla. Sometimes shopping is a good idea.

Doup

I have a secret weapon in the war on juvenile picky eating: “doup.” Baby Gwen’s list of sanctioned edibles includes chickpeas, carrots, onions, peas, collard greens, kale, spinach, mushrooms, barley, rice, lentils, squash, potato, sweet potato, tomato and even rutabaga. There is only one caveat: these health-enhancing morsels must be consumed in soup form. Outside of the world of broth, none may even go near her pink-and-white toddler bowl with spill catcher lest they become airborne and wind up splattered like roadkill across the linoleum tiles.

Houston II

So the Houston Arboretum and Nature Center was fun. I am consistently amazed by the hugemongous swath of forest in the middle of overly-highwayed Houston. Too cool.

The discovery center was closed, but the kids enjoyed the rope bridge, sand pit and black-ribbed tunnel in the playground. We also saw a pileated woodpecker flitting among the pines and hickories.

Then, we sucked it up and paid twenty-eight *@#$% dollars for our family to visit the Children’s Museum of Houston.

I have this problem in that I refuse to pay Austin Children Museum’s $120 membership fee to get the reciprocal agreement for free admission at participating institutions, but I balk when called upon to pay entrance fees over and over again.  I think this might be a case of “penny wise, pound foolish,” but in any case, it’s a worthy nonprofit.

Anyway, the museum was great. The kids particularly enjoyed weighing and grooming cats in the “vet’s office,” and playing short-order cook at the diner. This was a really fun trip, with loads left unseen for next time.

Houston

We don’t travel a lot because it is expensive. But we do like to jump in the car and just see a place briefly. Today we found ourselves in Houston. We briefly entertained the idea of the aquarium until we read online reviews and saw the $16.95 per person price tag. Instead, I think we’ll visit the box turtles and hickories in the Houston Arboretum and Nature Center.  It’s different. It’s real. And, most importantly, it’s free.

Goodbyes and Hellos

I know it has been a while. After a couple of couch-to-floor toddler tosses, my laptop’s hard drive experienced an epic fail on the day of my last blog post. This has meant a full year of “baby’s first” photos and videos are gone. And I do mean gone: I hadn’t backed up any of these files, and the highly specialized “drive savers” in California gave me a highly apologetic summary about things collapsing and all files being unretrievable. So I have been in mourning — avoiding the creation of new data — even though my husband replaced the hard drive a few weeks ago. But I think I am finding my way back, and starting to realize the power of backup. And strategic laptop placement.

That’s How I Roll

Every day, my driver waits on top of the hill in a 35-foot stretch vehicle worth as much as a Lamborghini Murcielago. Usually, Baby Gwen and I are alone on our 20 minute journey to the gym, but there’s seating for more than 20 people.

Sure, our chariot has no disco lights, surround sound or even plush leather seating. But with other college students piled in — huzzah! It’s a party.

While we burn through fuel at the rate of 3.2 miles per gallon, I feel environmentally pious — holier-than-thou even — when I ride. And the cost is either nothing, or less than a toasted bagel, depending on where I go.

So, as gas prices start edging back up, hop on the bus. Your tax dollars already pay for it, and maybe it will make our poor Gaia’s fever come down. Yeah, public transportation: That’s how I roll.

I Will Scream

This morning, my husband finally purged our leftover bag of Reese’s Crispy Crunchy Bars from Halloween, but now I am getting word that Amy’s Ice Cream is giving away free scoops today from 2-6 p.m. at all Central Texas stores.

As free as free is, the thought of ingesting even one additional gram of sugar today sounds about as fun as getting cathed. But for the rest of you who didn’t overindulge last weekend, enjoy! And congratulations to a nice, local business on its 25th anniversary in Austin.

Dog Day Afternoon

Despite having our picnic lunch partially consumed by a boisterous black Lab, I think we might have a new Sunday family tradition hiking the Turkey Creek Nature Trail at Emma Long Park.

The winding 2.5-mile trail may be named after our Thanksgiving-Day bird, but it is ruled by family canines who shoot down the path like bobsleds at the Winter Olympics. Today’s dog show included hulking Great Danes, a trembling Yorkie and every size of slobbery mutt in between. Our first grader even noticed a Daschund, saying, “Awesome! I saw a wiener.” Ah, innocence

The dogs were fun, but the swirl of fall color — pale lavender Fall Asters, hot pink clusters of American Beautyberry, rows of golden Zexmenia — was food for the soul. Husband and big girl even got down to petal-level to sniff every butterfly’s favorite fall bloom, the White Mistflower.

The cost for this family adventure was 12 miles worth of gasoline and one cheese quesadilla, which was devoured in about thirty seconds by the aforementioned Lab. By the way, the dog’s owner — who had been chatting on her cell phone — did offer an embarrassed “Sorry” before admonishing him with “Hey, no Mexican food!”

Totally worth it.

Solar Drying

Outside, as raindrops crackle in the gutters, I think about the three-plus loads of laundry in the dryer that need to be folded.

It’s not a terrible chore, really. I enjoy embracing the soft, warm towels — especially right after the timer buzzes — and reuniting ankle socks with their mates. Even with my two little gals shrieking around the coin-operated laundry room, it’s an oddly calming ritual, akin to taking a steaming loaf of bread out of the oven.

But I still want to do the right thing. In my last complex we had a “solar dryer” (aka a communal clothesline) which I would frequently use to hang towels and other bulky items. This allowed me to whittle down the dryer pile and conserve my quarters. Sure, our strong Texas sun made the towels stiff, faded and about as soft as emery boards. But at least I was doing a tad less damage to the Earth and saving a few bucks too. Unfortunately, our new complex has no community clothesline, and my little dorm-room-style drying rack is not getting much play.

Still, an interesting discussion in the New York Times about how to get 21st-century Americans re-acquainted with the practice has inspired me to break out the little white drying rack. Just as soon as it stops raining.

Whole Foods: Why Can’t I Quit You?

Dear Whole Foods,

Because of our frequent visits to your 80,000-square-foot flagship store, you probably are familiar with my family. We are the ones playing hide-and-go-seek among the racks of organic-cotton yoga pants and in your dressing room. We are also harpooning large chunks of golden pineapple with our toothpicks. And we like to rock out in your baking aisle — especially when The Go-Go’s assure us that we got the beat.

Still, I think it might be damaging to my reputation as a frugal mom to be hanging out in a place nicknamed “Whole Paycheck.” What’s more, I find your CEO’s opinions to be as unpalatable as paying $19.99 for a pound of Goat Gouda.

Yet even if I wanted to end our relationship, my kids would never let me; indeed, your rooftop playground, free Quack’n-Bites crackers and spontaneous gifts of sticker dolphins reminding us to “recycle on porpoise” have forever imprinted my children with brand loyalty. Oh, and your recent photo-op-perfect miniature pumpkin patch — you know, the one where my toddler enjoys kissing each 25-pound “Big Mac?” That hasn’t hurt either.

Oh, who am I kidding? You had me at “one-bite brownie sample.” But then you added a free Afro-Cuban music concert, a 99-cent-a-pound organic apple sale and periodic, inexplicable swag. Remember the cherry-red, Egyptian-cotton baby hat that your team member “sampled out” after hearing me explain to my daughter how we couldn’t afford such frivolities?

So we’ll see you later. But if my friends ask, tell them I’m at Costco updating my price book.

Sincerely,

The lady feverishly clipping coupons for organic blueberry waffles.