That’s me and my girl right there. All three feet and thirty some-odd pounds of her.
Oh. . . and that’s a twenty year old plastic mare named Unicorn poking her head out of my purse.
We shop in a threesome sometimes.
Mostly at fancy places like Sally Beauty Supply, Costco, and Winn Dixie.
We’re buying important and fashionable things like purple sparkly hair paint, Honeycrisp apples, and plantain presses.
And then once in a while, when we venture to someplace like Kohl’s, we find designer Rachel Ray things like this:
. . . for $20.
TWENTY dollars for a bowl that holds your food scraps while you slice, dice, and prep. . . .
I have some ideas about how one might get around this.
This is what you’ll need:
– One fifteen year old wedding gift pasta bowl, OR one little clear plastic bowl. . . or really, ANY bowl you have available.
– Food scraps.
You’re so crafty.
Sorry Rachel Ray, we’ve decided to start our own Garbage Bowl line.
Really, I’m saving my best for last though.
It’s quite versatile.
You’ll need a glass bowl because we’re getting fancy and highfalutin.
You will also need a dry-erase marker, because we’re not making just any garbage bowl, we’re making a Mood garbage bowl.
This allows us to not only be clever DIYers, but also. . . emotional cooks.
This is what you do:
It’s better just said in pictures:
And back to shopping with a giant plastic mare in my purse –
It’s cool with me.
Being a mom has taught me to roll with all the punches.
I don’t even cringe when people look at me weird. . . mostly.
It’s part of being a mom.
You learn to lose some inhibition and flush humiliation down the toilet.
Then you find yourself doing things you never would have been comfortable doing before, like wearing stained clothes in public, approaching strangers at the playground, and dancing to old Brittany Spears songs while you fix dinner.
But I have deflector skin now.
It’s a parenting side benefit.
My friend posted on Facebook this summer, “[My guy] likes to tell me songs to make up at bedtime. The current fave- “sing song of…Mommy’s Eyebrows!” and I do…while he thoughtfully strokes his own eyebrows. No one tells you the real challenges of parenting. Like making up eyebrow songs.”
Oh, my Friend. The truth of it.
Let’s have coffee one of these days – you, me, and Unicorn. We can design garbage bowls and sing songs about all six of our eyebrows.