Goin down to The Winco

My grocery bill has been out of control. When we were figuring how much we could afford to move up and still live below the golden handcuff threshold, I discovered how much I was spending each month on food. I don’t know what’s normal for a family of three, but this seemed a bit abnormally high and made my inner tightwad cringe. I realize I’ve been a bit of a grocery store snob, spending more at Safeway because it was a “nicer” store and I knew where everything was.

For the past few months I’ve been trying to do a better job at meal planning and doing a big shop every two weeks to limit the “can’t get out the store for under $50 bucks” quick trips to the store.

I’ve been having good grocery bill luck at Winco Foods. Rather, I feel I should say “The Winco” because it’s the kind of store where people probably put a capital “the” where there really isn’t one. Like “The Walmart” or “The K-mart.” The Winco ain’t fancy. It’s not a club store, but I don’t know what to compare it to. Maybe a Cash and Carry. They basically cut open packing boxes of goods, and let the shoppers have at it. There is actually a decent selection of fresh items (fresh pizza dough = toddler fun!) and the produce is less bruised because it is barely handled by the stockboys. You do get to wrestle elbow to elbow over the bulk garlic with ladies wearing mint green house coat/sweats combos and shove your cart past clustered (Here, let me move your cart a skotch so I can squeak by! Thaaanks.) families of five pondering the merits of all bean vs meaty chili. You also have to bag your own groceries.

I am actually thrilled to bag my own groceries. I have a little issue when it comes to grocery bagging. Save the “An issue? No shit.” comment Russ Anonymous. When I unload my cart, I group things in the order I want them bagged – this makes unloading easier. Frozen goods with frozen. Produce with produce. Cans with cans, and so on. (This makes sense right? I’m not the only one with this issue, am I?) Then I have to look on in horror as the bag boy throws my scheme all to hell when he tosses things all willy nilly into bags. Bread on the bottom? ARE YOU SMOKING CRACK!!

Ah, but the self-bagging station at The Winco lets me express my grocery OCD in peace. I saved a hundred bucks today. I know because I had priced my list online at Safeway thinking I would have it delivered. My inner tightwad feels vindicated after all the coin we’ve been throwing around after our move.

Colin was my copilot today. He loves places like The Winco. His huggy-heart battery gets charged full. He grabbed a ladies furry hood before I could stop him. She turned with a furrowed brow and her frown turned upside down at his big grin. He says hi to everybody, and most people say hi back. He smiles. I smile. They smile. It’s a regular glad fest! And if they don’t say hi back? He keeps yelling, “hi!”…”Hi!”…”HIIII!!!” until they do. That’s my boy. Persistent in getting the answer he wants – wearing a smile the whole time.

March Snow

Woke up to an unusual sight for the end of March. Snow falling - and sticking around for a while! I love the fact that we are in more of a snowline elevation. We don't get too many days of snow and ice here, but it's so beautiful when we do (and hey, a valid reason to go into work late!). Melted off by noon, but it was pretty while it lasted.

More house biznets

I was asked to post some pics of the new house, so here we go. None of the rooms are really done yet, so just think of these as V1.

We have a lot of stairs. See?
L to R - from the garage to the house, from the first floor to the second floor, from the street to the house.

Rob said that if we bought this house he would bring my groceries upstairs. Rob’s a liar.

We have a lot of windows (just like this one on our upstairs landing!) but not a lot of neighbors. Which is good, since when you aren’t used to a lot of windows, one (and you can guess which one) tends to forget that walking around sans pantalones might not impress someone who isn’t legally obligated to play grab ass in the hall.

We have a big garage. Rob is happy.

We have a play room. Colin is happy.

We have a big kitchen. Laura is happy. You get a picture of the cupboards, because Laura also has a lot of frickin kitchen to clean. She's also talking about herself in the third person, but that's a post for another day.

Here is the north side of our backyard. We shall dub this the Back 40. This is the site of my future vegetable garden. To the right is a play area where Colin's toys are destined to go.

This is our, I don't know, um, a conversation area. I have a rug ordered that will make it a bit more cozy.

So that's it. Blogger is pissing me off with working with pictures.

Harvard Bound

So proud. Look at how well our boy slurps rain water from a random bowl we left outside.

Happy Easter!

Here in the rainy Northwest spring has sprung, but it’s rather leaky. So egg hunts are more often than not an indoor affair.

We had brunch lined up at the Columbia Gorge Hotel an hour and a half away, so we woke up the slumbering bumble early to get in an egg hunt before we had to hit the road.

By the way, if you want to see an uber crab-head in action, wake Colin up before he’s
ready. Makes my early morning demeanor look like Mary Poppins.

Colin loved finding the colored eggs, and he loved the chocolate in his basket even more!

Here are a few pictures from the morning and our brunch. A very tasty four-course meal that had us rolling out the door after we were done.

*knock!*

Awww

So, you want me to put this egg in the duck even though it came out of a
chicken?

How do I feel about moving?

About like this...

Because we moved from a quiet court onto a not so quiet road. We had to rig some ghetto drapes to help block the noise in our room. Looks rad, eh?

But I did get Colin's bathroom put together.
Look at these cute lil monkeys for our lil monkey!

More pictures to come soon!

Happy Birthday Dad!

Top Pop turns 69 today. No jokes please, the man is already way too far down the dirty old man road for my comfort.

Dad has taught me many things over the years, notably to argue with him. A skill he regrets every time I come home for a visit. But hey, someone has to keep him on his toes.

He’s also the reason that Colin now bellows SOOOOUUUUPPPP in a stentorian roar any time we serve this favorite food of his. But that’s another story…

Happy Birthday!!

Taking appropriate measures

So that we don't have a repeat breakout attempt.

Wrath of Mom

Colin has learned a new trick. And by trick I mean a method to stop his mother’s heart, cause fear and panic in the Wieking household and bring out the Great and Powerful Wrath of Mom.

The boy has learned how to unlock the front door. And open it. And stealthily sneak out and run off into the yonder with nary a hesitation or look back.

The first time he did it, I heard him, told him to stop, ran after him when he hightailed it out of the yard, caught him, hauled his behind back into the house and said in my best Wrath of Mom tone, “NO NO! NEVER NEVER GO OUT THE DOOR WITHOUT TELLING MOMMY!!!” Stuck him in his room for a time out and thought that would do the trick.

Oh, it did the trick all right. Showed him just how to get a good ol raging reaction out of mom.

The next time he did it (same day, a few hours later) he figured out how to keep the door quiet. So I didn’t catch him until I realized it was too quiet. Luckily he was still in the front yard, barely. Repeat catching process, yell louder, administer a swat on the booty (don’t judge please) and proceed to time out.

We don’t have a deadbolt on the door (which is pointless since he can operate the knob kind) but there is a hole near the top that I was able to stick a screwdriver in to keep the door shut.

Throughout the day and evening I kept hearing the little booger try to get the door open. And when I’d give him the hairy eyeball over it – he’d laugh at me. Dude…

Today he pulled a fast one. Rob and I were talking about something to do with the move and we realized it was way too quiet. Of course we see the front door wide open, with no child in sight. We called his name – no Colin appeared. We ran out into the court. No Colin.

Rob started to look into the backyards of the neighbors and I took off towards the park, thinking that would be where he would go. Praying that he didn’t go the other direction towards the busy Boulevard outside our neighborhood. As I ran, with my heart in my throat, my biggest fears ran through my mind. I reached the park, no Colin. So I kept going around to block in case he went that way. I hoped that Rob had found him.

Sure enough. The escapee was safe in Daddy’s arms smiling like a lunatic as I huffed my way back into the court. The little turd had gone over to a neighbors who was washing his car. Gee, nayb thanks for giving us a heads up when we ran panicking out of our house and running out of the court.

Don’t worry, I didn’t wail on the little punk when we got inside. He got another dose of Wrath of Mom and tearful time out, then he got a big hug and I tried again to tell him how scary it was for mommy and daddy when he took off like a friggin idiot. And then I left to go to the store so I could fall apart in the safety of my car.

What worries me is that he thinks it’s funny. That he is too young to grasp the situation. That he has no fear or awareness of cars. That we are moving out of the relative safety of a cul-de-sac onto a corner lot that sees commuter traffic. We’ll be adding a deadbolt if there isn’t one already – preferable high enough to be bumble proof until the boy gets a lick of sense in his head.

RRAAARWWWWW. Here me roar. *sniff*

Fees, fees, let me be.

There comes a point in the home buying process when a person who, let’s say, is…um…a tightwad frugally minded individual, starts to freak the freak out over the amount of money that is being spent on very critical and crucial elements to close the transactions in the escrow process like recording fees, stamp fees, courier fees, origination fees, this is a crime fees, and other random and seemingly endless FEES.

This person (who may be me, but who may NOT be me) starts to ask anyone involved on the transaction side all kinds of questions that she, er, this person, suspects is going to reveal the inner penny pincher that loves to spoil the spending party.

We knew going into this that we’re buying a bigger house – hence a bigger mortgage. But day-um people. Can you lay off the fees just a bit? We’re in the computer age if you haven’t noticed – who needs to pay $260 for a stamp?

And on a side note. Didn’t our founders begin that little fight for independence because they were ticked at having to pay a superfluous fee called a Stamp Tax? Ironic aren’t it?

Oh my freaking funny bone!

Sunshiny news

Oregon's false spring over the last week raised our hopes only to dash them down again with a spat of chilly 45 degree weather again. Ugh. Again.

That's okay though, since the drama has dwindled down on the real estate front.

and, And AND - great news from the mommacita - the chemo is working! What a thrilling way to end our week last week with the knowledge that the sale and the buy were working themselves out, and that mom's great attitude and iron constitution (seriously - this woman can kick some chemo ass) are making positive things happen on the cancer front.

Colin on the other hand...is still two. So two, in fact, that he tried to land his Fisher Price Jet Airliner squarely into my nose. CCCCRRRRAAAAASSSHHH! Youch. "Mama, okay?" *tears running down my face, clutching my nose* "Yesh Conin, Mama'sh okay."

We're not sure how much he comprehends what's going on. He acts bored, clinging to me rather than play with his multi-million dollars worth of toys strewn about the place. He is likely picking up on my and Rob's impatience to move on and begin this new adventure. We do drive bys on Rigert and ask him if he wants to live there (yes mama!) and if he likes the house (yay mama!). And the boxes are certainly fun times. I think he'll adjust just fine, he's just that kind of kid.

On the other hand, I'm going to miss our daily stroll to Donna's. We like to listen to the birds and comment on the weather to each other. "Let's run Colin, it's cold out!" "brrrrr! chilly!" he replies. I love to hold his hand, and the feeling is mutual. "hand, mama!"