Adventures

You know the expression “don’t cry over spilled milk?” Well, it’s happened to me.

After buying groceries once, I was in a rush to put everything away. I grabbed a bag from the counter and the unopened jug of milk toppled to the kitchen floor. It burst open like a water balloon, gushing milk everywhere. My husband and I frantically reached for dishrags, towels, napkins…anything we could find to mop up the mess (a gallon is a lot of milk when it’s poured out all over your kitchen floor). The whole time we were laughing and slipping and soaking our socks with milk. I laughed so hard I had tears running down my cheeks.

So the next time you’re in a hurry to put the groceries away, take a little extra care with your milk so you won’t have to cry over it too.

Image courtesy of www.peterbreuer.de on Flickr

My husband and I teach Sunday School for three year-olds. It’s a lot of fun and each week we come home with a new ridiculous story. Recently we were teaching about being a good friend. We learned something new from a conversation with one of the boys in the class.

Me: Who are some of your favorite people to talk to?
Boy: Larry.
Me: Who’s Larry?
Boy: He’s a pickle.
Me: I don’t think pickles can talk.
Boy: You’ve never met a real pickle.

Here’s how I picture it:
9:40am at the local farmers market…carefully selected bundles of fresh asparagus, tomatoes, zucchini, and peaches…brightly colored canvas tote and flowy floral cotton skirt…happy children wearing little bubble outfits and white sandals…lime green beach cruiser with a wicker basket to carry your produce…

I was so excited to discover that my city does a weekly farmers market. I anticipated going all week. When Saturday morning finally arrived, I gathered my husband and baby, and the three of us headed out the door. We got to the park and there were only about ten stands total. Most of them sold wood carvings, books, crafts, and flowers.  Only one actually sold fresh produce, but all they had were a few boxes of watermelon and corn. I was so disappointed. My American Dream would have to wait. But the morning wasn’t a complete waste. We shopped at a nearby bookstore, ate lunch at a little diner, and bought lemonade from a girl saving money for a pass to the local water park. It was a good day.