Take and Bake Confusion

Next time I tell you that I’m sure I’m going to die from the cancer, don’t believe me. Even though I sometimes feel it, I must not be feeling it down to my core because today I bought a purse. Not a ridiculously expensive purse, I don’t believe in those – I prefer to pay that kind of money to actually fly to New York * stay in a hotel * eat all sorts of overpriced, yet tasty, New York food * and buy knock-offs at the haggled price only a professional knock-off purse-buyer can get away with (costing me way more than it would cost me to buy an expensive purse locally, at retail the price). I’d gladly pay hundreds and hundreds of dollars for a trip to New York, but  never for a Coach bag.

I bought myself a purse that was normally priced at $85, at a 40% mark-down – and used my 20% off coupon. Deal, people!

And the realization that I’m not going to die from cancer, at least not any time soon, because a new purse is a commitment.

By the way – this is the purse I bought, only mine has lemongrass green leather accents/handle instead of this yellow. It’s a Tignanello (pronounced teen-ya-nel-o, in case you give a hoot – which I just did and googled it, even though I already own 3 Tignanellos and never cared to look for proper pronunciation before) for anyone who wants to go out and buy my exact same purse. Like my little sis-in-law who frequently buys the exact same purse that I do. I think she’s trying to “accidentally” pick up my purse when she leaves my house because mine is loaded with cash!

Edited later in the day: My “lemongrass” version of the purse pictured above? Uh. No. It’s the same color as the one in the photo. And I love it. I’m just concerned about what the chemo has done to my sense of color.

Loaded!

I wish.

Then I went to the grocery store (where  Floweer was not, because her car was not in her special parking spot) so that I could buy one of those Take and Bake pizzas that Thing 2 asked for for dinner tonight. I’m happy to fulfill an easy and inexpensive dinner request.

However, my chemo brain wouldn’t let me open the memory door to where the fresh Take and Bake pizzas are in this particular grocery store. So while I was at the deli, where I assumed they’d be near, I asked the deli gal where the Take and Bake pizzas were.

“Do you mean the kind you put in an oven?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied. And wondered, where else would I put it?

“They’re in the freezer section,” she replied.

“No. I mean the kind that are fresh and you take them and you bake them,” I said.

“Do you mean the kind you put in the microwave?” she asked. (Who has the chemo brain now, folks?)

“No. The kind that are fresh, not frozen – and you take them home and you bake them in your oven,” I tried to get across.

“Oh! Those!” she said, “They’re right here!” and she pointed around the corner of the deli counter, that she was standing behind – stands behind every day she comes to work. So I went around the corner, in the case that was about 3 feet from where she stood, not answering my question, and there they were. About 60 of them. All fresh and ready to take and bake.

And now I’m paranoid. I think that everyone in the Twin Cities metro area was sent a flyer, telling them to confuse me so that I could keep my chemo brain a churnin’.