Hey, whaddya know, it’s snowing.  Goooood Morning, Fort Wayne!  You know it’s been a brutal winter when you were out running around yesterday in 24 degree weather and all you had on was a hoodie.

My feet hit the floor roughly 45 minutes ago and I was instantly reminded of 17 little miles yesterday.  The new leaf of a non-potty mouth which I’ve been trying to turn ever since reading A Catcher in the Rye in my early teen years is still viciously swirling around in the air, like a tornado headed for Kansas.

You know how some people wake up on a Sunday morning and instinctively turn on the TV?  Yeah, me neither, but I know they are out there, God love ’em.  Instinctively I, of my own accord, hit “Brew Now” with such ferocity that I fear I may end up sans a pointer finger.  Which would really put me at a disadvantage if I ever decide to pick up and learn how to use those Vic Firth’s again.

So instead, I began to search on-line for a particular Italian pasta seasoning mix that my mother has put me on a mission to find for her. I had given my parents a gift basket of all things Italian related for Christmas 2 years ago:  capicollo, crostini, focaccia, cappellini, gnocchi – you know, anything ending in a vowel.  Oh, and a DVD of The Italian Job just in case they missed the theme.  Turns out she loved this now seemingly extinct seasoning mix from the Old Country, so I went where you go when you can’t hop a flight to Naples or find stuff anywhere else:  Amazon.

I had NO IDEA! you could purchase food on a recurring basis from Amazon.  Blimey that’s genius! (I think we have English in the roots somewhere, too; but we’re such a melting pot of mutts that really, we’d make Genealogists hang it up in favor of finding some personality.  And sunlight.)

Of course the Italian seasoning mix was no where to be found, but the trip wasn’t all for naught.  Because right before my very about-to-need-bifocal-eyes was a big, fat stroke of serendipity.  A bag of ORGANIC CHIA SEEDS, Ancient Superfood of the Aztecs, was readying itself to go from Tenochtitlan to my on-line cart.

Now, am I also part indigenous, you may be asking yourself?  I suppose it’s possible and let’s be honest, those crafty folks HAD to have been the originators of the Melting Pot anyway, at least based on the pictures I’ve seen.

But that’s not why I was interested in making a 2lb. bag purchase of the tiny magical seeds.  I was interested because according to my recent lipid panel, I have high cholesterol.  My Google search immediately told me that to rectify this, I should:  a) get moving, b) lose weight, and c) stop smoking.  Google was cutting me off at the knees, so I went with option d) chia seeds.

You see, I am now “of a certain age,” which is bullshit code for: everything starts falling apart.  We’ll see about that.  Doesn’t 40 know that I am Italian?  One phone call.  Either initially, or from jail, but I’m not going down without swinging.

From my hair stylist’s (and by “stylist” fine, I mean “takes-the-gray-and-trailer-out-colorist”) chair yesterday, I made an appointment at the Optometrist’s office. If they had a drive-through, I would bypass reading that stupid chart and just order 4 boxes of “Stronger Strength One Pump Doesn’t Dry Out So Quickly With Light Bifocals” and be on my way. 

Once I leave there – all able to see what’s ahead of me again – I totally plan to swing by Ulta and buy a vat of face cream containing a smidge more retinol.  From there, I will bypass Coldwater Creek and Talbots and instead, hit up White House Black Market.  (Just because you can shop at Limited Too doesn’t mean you should.)  There is a fantastic little black dress at WHBM that is calling my name.  Come in HERE, Runs Like Wind Against 12 Year Olds…

Also in my Amazon Shopping Cart?  Another book.  “Yes Your Teen is Crazy!:  Loving Your Kid Without Losing Your Mind.”

So far, so good.  Or at least until Friday night when a bunch of her friends come over to celebrate her 17th birthday and one of them decides to call me “Ma’am.”

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