What's the best kind of gift to receive?

I don't spend a lot of time deciding what to wear in the morning. I usually already know what I want to eat when the waiter asks for my drink order. I've been known to purchase shoes and even furniture on impulse. All in all, I'm a pretty quick decision-maker. But when it comes to buying gifts for others...I'm p-a-i-n-s-t-a-k-i-n-g-l-y...s-l-o-w.

I can't help it. I love to give gifts. But just any gift won't do. I have to find THE gift. I envy people like my mother, who picks up random items all year long whenever she comes across a bargain. She has drawers full of gloves, sheet sets, baby blankets, etc. So, whenever an occasion arises...BAM! She's ready at a moment's notice. I've tried her philosophy. I really have. Even this year. Finding myself in IKEA a few months ago I loaded up on candles, linens, and other versatile items...in the hopes that, come Christmas, I could match them up with an appropriate recipient. No such luck. I have a hard time giving someone something while at the same time knowing in my heart that I didn't buy it specifically FOR them.

Don't get me wrong. Sometimes I have no choice but to resort to the more generic gift options. For instance, this year the majority of my husband's and my grandmothers are getting scarves, and...drumroll, please...SOCKS for the granddads! What's not to love about socks?! Everything. That's what. Socks aren't fun. They aren't personal. They reflect a failure on my part to know what the person needs or cares about, as well as possibly a deeper seated need for approval. But that's another post.

So, what DOES make for a good gift?!
I wish I knew. I just want it to be what the person WANTS.

Ask someone like my husband what he wants for Christmas/birthday/anniversary/etc. He'll answer..."nothing." When I'm insistent for him to tell me something, ANYTHING, he then replies..."less debt." Joking aside, though, what he really wants in a gift is something that he would have ended up having to buy for himself eventually, but would rather just get as a gift in order to eliminate the extra cost associated with him buying both the needed thing AND me buying him a gift (e.g. boots to replace the ones he's worn out, a bedliner for his new truck, or a pressure washer).

I, on the other hand, am just the opposite. What I'm seeking is something I would NEVER have considered buying for myself. Frivolous little things (not necessarily expensive, just unnecessary) that I'll probably keep a long time and that I will never forget the occasion for which they were given. What I should receive this year (if the hints have worked): cowboy boots, a tambourine, and tickets to the National Championship game (ok, so maybe I've given up on the last one).

One of my favorite gift-giving tales is a story by one of my favorite authors, O. Henry, called "The Gift of the Magi." It's about a young couple, scrounging to make ends meet, who desperately want to buy each other something grand for Christmas. The wife, with no other available options for raising funds, sells her gorgeous long hair in order to buy her husband a chain for his watch, his prized possession. She does so only to have him come home to surprise her with beautiful combs for her hair, which she'd been eyeing for some time in a store window, but of course could no longer use. How did he afford such an extravagance? You guessed it...sold his watch!

The Magi referenced in the title are actually the wise men who brought gifts to the newborn baby Jesus. They appear (perhaps erroneously, as it would have taken them years to travel to where Jesus was) in Christmas pageants, nativities, and stories we tell as we reflect on the true meaning of this season. So, technically speaking, I submit that they could indeed be the first-ever givers of a Christmas gift. Or are they?

Back up a few years. A few thousand years. (As it were, the first Christmas was a long time in coming.) And, if necessity is a factor in determining the worth of a Christmas gift...then, MAN, were those Israelites needy! Because, while focusing on the real story of Christmas and the baby in the manger, it's also important to remember...the story didn't start there.

It started in the Garden of Eden when man gave in to temptation. It continued as God's people were overwhelmed by their inability to atone for their own sins. It escalated as they cried out for the Savior who had been promised, who would deliver them once and for all from sin and death. It was fulfilled in a stable, by a simple girl, giving birth on an ordinary night.

So, why the wise men? Why the gifts? Was it because a King had been born into royalty? No. He wasn't. Was it because there was a great banquet at the palace to celebrate His birth? No. There was none. So, why then?

It was because the prophecies of thousands of years had been fulfilled! The answer they'd prayed for had come! Their most desperate need had been met! Talk about gratitude! (Oh, how it shallows my request for boots.)

I said the story didn't start in the manger, but more importantly...it doesn't end there.

Jesus was sent for a singular purpose. Not to be born into a brief life on earth, but to die for something eternal. This baby would take on the sins of the world (past and future), endure the wrath of a loving yet just God, and forever atone for a people who could never do enough to achieve holiness.

Merry Christmas to all, as we celebrate the birth of the One who satisfies every needs for those who believe and follow Him.

Q: What's the best kind of gift to receive?

A: A sacrificial One.

What is the Music Genome Project?

Anyone who's used Pandora is probably familiar with this term. It's part of the explanation given when you try to dig down into the deeper reasoning behind why Pandora chose a particular song to be a part of your station. For anyone who isn't familiar with the Music Genome Project, or Pandora for that matter, here's a crash course. Pandora is an internet radio station that selects music that it thinks you'll enjoy based on a favorite song or artist that you have provided. The Music Genome Project is the tool that it uses to accomplish this feat. Similar to the study of genetics in plants and animals, the project identified 400 "genes" or characteristics of songs. Any given song is analyzed by one, or sometimes more, musicians to identify the genes present in the song and assign them a value between 1 and 5. Based on the set of genes/values identified in a song (its "vector") a distance function creates a list of similar songs. Pretty complicated, huh?

I must say it's fairly effective. When I plug my iPhone into my car stereo, fire up my Pandora app, and tap Matt Nathanson Radio...I get a pretty good playlist of songs that I enjoy. Their explanation, when I tap the Song button, usually tells me they chose a song based on characteristics such as "a vocal-centric aesthetic, mellow rock instrumentation, folk influences, a good dose of guitar pickin', a breathy male lead vocalist, etc." Sure, all traits that I enjoy. But there are still a lot more factors that cause a song to make it onto my personal playlist. I mean, sure I like songs that fit those criteria, but that list isn't exhaustive. Where are the characteristics like "songs I like to sing at the top of my lungs in my car," "songs I'd love to pretend were written about me," and "songs that have that one perfect line that fits so well with that haunting cord progression"? Show me the musician who's going to sit down and quantify THOSE things. (Some good examples of those, respectively, are "High Enough" by Damn Yankees, "Endlessly" by Green River Ordinance, and "I Dreamed a Dream" from Les Miserables...none of which will ever make an appearance on Matt Nathanson radio.)

Now, I'll address another entity that parades itself as being an expert on what it is that I might like to listen to...the iTunes Genius feature. If the genome project could be defined as complex, then I'd have to say that Genius is nothing short of...creepy. Genius anonymously sends your iTunes library to Apple's database and uses algorithms to determine which songs to play, based on similar findings in other users' libraries. However, now that the Genius sidebar has been replaced with the Ping sidebar, Genius no longer recommends songs for you to download. So its suggestions are all based on the songs that are already in your library. This helps me ZERO. Also, seeing as how I'm generally embarrassed for anyone to see what all is in my music library (OK, so I like John Denver and ABBA?!), it pains me to think my eclectic song choices are being sent out into cyberspace.

Contrast this with another music persona who, until recently*, had fallen silent on Birmingham airwaves...Scott Register, or "Reg" as he was known to listeners of his shows Reg's Coffee House and The Morning Blend. Reg built quite the name for himself by identifying musical talent and introducing it to the masses. I can honestly say I have him to thank for so many of the artists I've grown to love today...artists I would likely have never heard in the absence of his show (The Airborne Toxic Event, Benjy Davis Project, The Civil Wars). I first came to "know" Reg when he appeared on 107.7 during my late high school/early college years and then later on the breath of fresh air that I like to call Live 100.5...which [scary bagpipes...then...dun, dun, dun...] met its demise earlier this year.

To this DAY I can't understand how a city this size can sustain, like, 10 country music stations (no, THAT part I get...keep reading)...yet not even ONE decent alternative/indie/folk radio station that was hands-down the best thing to happen to Birmingham radio in a decade! Or longer! Anyway, I digress.

So, in the absence of a hard-working, well-rounded, forward-thinking, talent-recognizing entity to single-handedly build my iTunes library on my behalf...I'm instead forced to do so myself. What has resulted is a tireless array of Pandora bookmarking, Shazam tagging, friend polling, and iTunes searching. All in search of my "new favorite song/artist." Why should I have to go to all this trouble?! I need an app that can do it for me! I need Reg! Better yet...a PERSONAL Reg! A music shopping assistant who can read my mind, interpret my tastes, and go out and download the perfect selection of music to serve as the soundtrack for my morning commutes, my jogs, my cooking frenzies, and my wistful evenings alone.

Until then...has anyone heard any good music lately?!

Q: What is the Music Genome Project?
A: A good start!

*I learned today that Reg and his show are back as a part of "The Mountain," a new internet radio station. I'll be curious to see how this venture fares.

How much sugar and butter does it take to turn a sweet potato into a yam?

Thanksgiving has again come and gone. I'm enjoying a long weekend away from work. I've done a lot of baking. I've eaten a lot of dressing. I've gained three pounds. As I do year after year, I've again dealt with the dilemma that occurs at the intersection where my love of cooking crosses my families' stubborn, picky appetites.

The past few holidays have not gone particularly well. Two years ago there was the pecan pie that would never set (can't blame anyone but myself for that one...although I'm still trying to figure out what went wrong...). Also the squash casserole that no one seemed to eat. Still don't understand that one. My family all loves squash. Or so I thought. I made what I considered to be a delicious squash casserole. It was yummy! My aunt and grandmother liked it. My mother said she did, but I'm pretty sure she lied to preserve my feelings. At the end of the night I took home an almost untouched squash casserole! The explanation: they just prefer their squash fried! Oh, for the LOVE...

Last year there was the sweet potato debacle. I, myself, am not a fan, but my family seems to like them...so I volunteered to make them for both family functions. I peeled about a dozen and shoved the peels into the garbage disposal in what I thought was reasonable intervals. Fast forward to an hour later when my husband was disassembling the disposal and wet sweet potato mush was pouring out onto my kitchen floor! Looking back this was, while humorous, not one of my favorite moments in our marriage. And again, at the end of the Thanksgiving festivities, I was coming home with much fuller dishes than I would have liked. This year's excuses: Granddad doesn't like cinnamon, and there were too many competing sweets.

Now on to this year's Thanksgiving festivities. For my dad's family's get-together, my food assignments had been doled out weeks ago. I was instructed to make their favorite Texas sheet cake and a peach cobbler that everyone seems to love. Done. My mom's family was much more difficult. Determined to cook something to impress (fueled by my past failures), I analyzed the entire Thanksgiving lunch menu and finally found the obvious gap in the mealtime offerings...(drum roll, please)...sweet potatoes. And so I volunteered.

Follow this up with a desperate phone call to my mother, as I tried to figure out how to prepare them in such a way that my family would not turn their noses up at them. What followed was a vague overview of how my Grandmother used to prepare candied yams. A. very. vague. overview. I searched online and finally found a recipe that resembled what my mom described. It involved only 5 ingredients (a plus in my family's book!)...sweet potatoes, butter, sugar, water, and time.

Please note what ingredient was NOT a part of said recipe: yams*. There are none in there. Nevertheless the recipe proudly proclaims itself as "Yummy Candied Yams." And they were! Accordingly to my family, that is. I ate one bite to test them as I was removing them from the stove. I might as well have been eating a sugar packet. But, hey, whatever floats your boat. It is, after all, Thanksgiving! The "yams" were a hit! Even with my picky Grandfather! I let him keep all the leftovers and came home with nothing but my clean, empty dish! And still no yams were harmed in the process!

Q: How much sugar and butter does it take to turn a sweet potato into a yam?

A: No amount of sugar and butter can accomplish this, but if my family will eat them...WHO CARES?!

*Yams and sweet potatoes are not the same vegetable. They're not even close. While both are tubers, they aren't even related. Sweet potatoes come in both hard and soft varieties. When the soft variety was first sold commercially in the US, there was a need to differentiate them. They were referred to as "yams" because of their similarity to the African vegetable they resembled. However, unless you've ever specifically sought one out in an international market, you've probably never actually eaten a yam.

Are there any actual benefits to two-a-days?

I realized, too late, at work this afternoon that I had drank entirely too much water to be able to successfully complete the 2-mile run I had planned for this afternoon. But this is not actually where this story begins. Back up a few days...

I decided, again too late, this past weekend that I would run my second 5k...leaving myself a very short 2 weeks to prepare for the Jingle Bell Run on December 4th. Still, though, a little more background is needed. Let's back up to this past spring...

That's when I decided to run my first ever 5k. By "first ever" I don't just mean my first organized running event. What I actually mean is the first time I've ever worked towards any physical goal. Ever. In the history of me.

Luckily, I coerced two of my coworkers into joining me in this venture. We worked hard. We trained. We followed a plan that required us to run almost every day of the week. We sweated. Sometimes we missed a few days. We contemplated running twice in one day to make up for it (but, really, who were we kidding?!). A few times we almost vomited. But...WE DID IT! We all ran the entire 3.1 miles without falling, fainting, or just generally having to lie down. And...then we stopped. Well, for the most part. I myself have run sporadically since our race in June. By sporadic, I mean maybe once per week. That is, until this past weekend...

Propelled by an increasing desire to shed the few pounds I gained during our trip to Chicago, as well as a desperate urgency to run another race before 1.) I lose any endurance I have built up from preparing for my first 5k, 2.) it gets entirely too cold for me to run and/or set foot outside at all, 3.) my running buddies also lose enthusiasm, leaving me to sit my butt at home all the time watching HGTV and eating potato chips.

Anyway, back to today. From my [limited] experience, very few things cause me to suffer from the dreaded stitch in my side so much as eating/drinking too soon prior to running. At 3:15 this afternoon (prior to my 4:00 p.m. run) this realization came too little too late, as I chugged down cup number 2 or 3 since lunch! But what could I do at that point? I drove from work over to the trail, warmed myself up with a pep talk, and gave it my best. Which was NOT good enough.

The pain in my side (along with all the water I could feel sloshing in my stomach) began at the 3/4 mile mark. I had to slow to a walk for a few seconds as we turned around at the one mile line. Aaaaaand then again a few minutes later. Thoroughly disappointed in myself (given the short amount of time I have to work up to 3.1 miles), I scolded myself under my breath all the way back to the car. FAIL.

I recharged on the way home with my iPod playing and the sunroof open, on the scenic route, and made a quick run through the grocery store to pick up the things I needed for the Thanksgiving dishes I've been assigned for my various family gatherings. When I finally got home the full moon was bright, the temperature was still 71 degrees, and I felt like a new person. Soooo...I ran again! Not far, mind you. But still...it made me feel better about my poor performance earlier this afternoon.

I have no idea what this will mean for me tomorrow. One struggling run + another shorter, yet more successful one could = soreness and disaster. Of course, the internet is full of a variety of opinions on this topic. Some say two-a-days are the ultimate way to mix-up your routine. Supposedly you burn more calories taking the same workout and breaking it into two segments. Other sources say two-a-days can lead to burnout and overexertion. I seriously doubt that the minimal effort I put into a second run this evening could do much to help or harm me. But, if nothing else, it certainly helped my feelings! I just hope I can walk [and run again] tomorrow!

Q: Are there any actual benefits to two-a-days?
A: I'll let you know tomorrow.

quirk [kwurk] (noun): a peculiarity of action, behavior, or personality; mannerism

I just returned from a girls' weekend in Chicago. Two of my best friends and I spent 3 fun-filled nights in the Windy City. We did a lot of eating, shopping, walking, and most of all...laughing! Mostly at each other.
We agreed after this trip that you don't really know someone...I mean REALLY KNOW them...until you go on vacation together. For example, my travel companions and I work together in the same office. We've known each other for multiple years now. My desk is an approximate 45 second walk from one of their desks and about 7 feet away from the other's. The three of us eat lunch together practically every day. We talk all the time and frequently hang out outside of work. But I gained a deeper understanding of both of them after this trip. I would have never dreamed I had so many things yet to learn about them. And about myself.
Although unplanned, this was not however a difficult feat. It seems that one's oddities become much more clear and more evident when reflected in the eyes of friends. I know ours were!

Let's start with Harmony:

Many of her odd behaviors revolve around her nighttime routine. She beds down like a dog for several minutes before she actually lies still and goes to sleep. This activity combined with the crispness of fresh hotel linens results in what sounds like someone crumpling a paper bag repeatedly in the bed next to you. This noise, however, does not in fact offend the offender as...alas, she happens to sleep in earplugs. Among her other faux pas...she loses all decorum when trying to hail a cab, lacks the ability to avoid looking like a tourist, and is incapable of maintaining her balance while standing in a moving subway train.

Now on to Anna...

This chick wakes up freakishly early in the morning. Even on vacation! She also lacks the capability to go back to sleep! Finding herself subject to her own pre-trip rule (that the first person who wakes up is NOT to awaken the others), she consequently lined the bathtub with pillows and read a book until we decided to get up. Which is probably the main contributor to her next quirk: an intense desire for all things breakfast! Among her more impressive traits is her uncanny knack for using her love of Auburn football to make fast friends (or enemies if the case may be) of any group of fellow sports enthusiasts.

My turn. Although I'd love to be able to say that my performance on this trip was nothing short of flawless...I, too, was ridiculed for my eccentricities. Those who know me realize this isn't easy for me. I'm pretty uptight and don't generally enjoy being the butt of a joke. However, on this trip, it's safe to say that I found myself on the tail end of quite a few of them.

Here goes...

My biggest overshadowing quirk is my inability to just let loose, cut up, and have fun. I overcame this inhibition as best I could over the past weekend, as evidenced by my posing for this photo with a piece of sushi hanging out of my mouth. I was teased for my general obsessive compulsive behaviors...a major one being my need to begin on the right-hand side of a store and work my way back around systematically in a counter-clockwise direction...rather than just meander through. My secret fear of revolving doors was brought to light. And my religious dependence on my iPhone Maps app, while well-intentioned, sent us in the wrong direction more than once. You can also imagine the skeptic looks my friends gave me as I covertly used it to run checks and balances on our cab driver to make sure he wasn't ripping us off with his little detour through Wrigleyville.

While it may sound like these quirky behaviors were the annoyances of our trip, the opposite is in fact true. They were the highlights! The things that made us laugh so hard we cried and that caused us to be so loud in the cab that I actually apologized to the driver for having to put up with us! And in reality I couldn't have been any less embarrassed. We. Had. Fun. Just being who we are and doing what we do...which, when you really break it down...is dang funny.

The "Ho" Code

On my way home from work today, a local talk radio show was recapping some highlights of something they referred to as the "bro code." I missed the beginning of the segment, but the limited research I've done since arriving home suggests they could have been referring to the list of rules popularized by Barney Stinson, Neil Patrick Harris' character on the sitcom "How I Met Your Mother." The various rules discussed related to everything from not dating your Bro's sister, to the appropriate urinal choice when there's another bro in the bathroom, and even...of course...the number one rule of bro-dom: Bros before Hos*.

As a Ho, I must admit I'm a bit jealous. Relationships with others of your same gender are incredibly simplified when there's a list of rules. We Hos aren't so lucky. There are a lot of assumptions, uncertainties, and guesswork involved. And often times we get it wrong. So, to assist my sister Hos...I've begun a list of rules for us.

I submit to you...The "Ho" Code. It's by no means exhaustive. Nor could it ever be. We Hos are a complex species. Not only would an all-inclusive list of rules to help us live together peaceably require years of research, focus groups, and careful study of the species in its natural habitat (the shopping mall)...it could neither be performed by a man (because he's too simple-minded) or a woman (because she'd be too busy shopping). But it's a start!

1.) When a group of three Hos eat in a restaurant at a booth, the Ho who is sitting alone shalt offer to share her bench with the other two Hos' purses.

2.) A Ho shalt not steal the look of another Ho.** An outfit another Ho pointed out to you in the mall the day before payday is off limits to you. Thou shalt not rush to beat her to the store to buy it after work the next day. As a side note, a Ho who has borrowed an article of clothing or an accessory from another Ho may accept a compliment on said item only after giving appropriate credit to its rightful Ho.

3.) A Ho shalt not upstage another Ho. Another Ho's wedding is not the place to announce to everyone that you're expecting. After hearing about another Ho's child's milestone, no Ho should mention that her own child just got accepted to Harvard...at age 7.

4.) A Ho is obligated to tell her Ho if she overhears another Ho (or group of Hos) talking negatively about her Ho. After doing so, the Ho should be prepared to engage in one of the following: a.) convincing her Ho that the gossip is completely incongruous, b.) watching her Ho commence to sobbing, c.) aid her Ho in beating down the other Ho (or group of Hos).

5.) All Hos are commanded to advise another Ho immediately upon realizing that their Ho's prospective man is cheating, wrong for them, or a registered sex offender. This responsibility is not to be taken lightly. Love is blind. We see things they miss.

6.) The failure of a Ho to notify her Ho of food in her teeth, a crazy fly-away hair, or a dress tucked into her panties (when it can be proven that the Ho could have or should have had constructive knowledge of said anomaly, as well as an opportunity to make the Ho aware of the condition in a way that does not further call it to the attention of those around the Ho) is a serious offense punishable by varying degrees of torture beginning with a mere reprimand and escalating up to and including termination of the friendship, depending on the severity.

7.) Hos shall not bear false witness.*** Period. Casual evasion is permitted (i.e. Well, it's not my favorite hairstyle you've had.) Lying is not (i.e. It looks great! Mullets are totally IN!)

8.) Hos shall not take offense to their Hos who offer sincere constructive criticism, when it is offered out of love. Concur with their critique? Thank them. Their actions took courage. If not, agree to disagree. And move on.

9.) Hos may only refer to their very closest friends as "Hos." That is, to their face.

10.) (and this one is key) A pact exists between all Hos that we will maintain a position of shock and disdain when being referred to as "Hos" by any member of the "Bros"!

*This rule was suggested by my friend Harmony so, if you were entertained or enlightened by it, you/I have her to thank.
**The journalist in me has resorted to using the same plural form of "ho" that the Associated Press used when quoting Don Imus.***
***OK, I copied that one too. Credit goes to God himself. He was on to something.
****The nerd in me feels the need to explain why I chose "Hos" over "Hoes" or "Ho's."

Are the grocery store chains conspiring together to ruin my life?

I live in a rather remote suburb of Birmingham. I also appreciate good, fresh food. The combination of these two facts should not, one would think, present THAT much of a problem. Wrong.

When my husband and I married, I moved from the Trussville area (read: seconds from a Publix and a Winn-Dixie...minutes from a Food World and a Target) to Moody (read: Grocery Store Hell). The city of Moody itself boasted only a Food World (meager, but acceptable...also very convenient to home). Nearby Leeds had a Food Giant and a Wal-mart. My grocery store situation has been the bane of my existence for the past 3 and a half years.

Food World was fine. It served my needs. While it sometimes lacked the specific brand name I was looking for or the bizarre, uncommon ingredient for which my recipe called...it was generally okay. It was also less than half a mile from my house. Alas, this relationship could not last. When the Bruno's/Food World conglomerate began to dissolve and store closings were rumored, I remember commenting to my husband, "They can't close ours! There's no way! It will NEVER shut down! It's ALL WE HAVE!"

*sigh*

Food World's closing left me with only two options...Food Giant and Wal-mart. That is to say, those are the only grocery stores within a reasonable driving distance from my house. I would also like it noted that the closing of my Food World corresponded with the closing of the Bruno's next to my office...my only other source of acceptable grocery shopping that didn't require me to veer off my normal course on my drive home from work. Hello, injury...meet insult!

Since the onset of my plight, I've given my two remaining establishments equal opportunity to prove me wrong. Fail. Let's begin with Wal-mart. It's too crowded. The brands are too limited. The meat is awful...and expensive. The people are just weird...did I mention I'm positive that 99% of the "People of Wal-mart" were photographed in my very own Wal-mart?! Its redeeming qualities? Wal-mart is often cheaper on most packaged products. Also their Great Value brand has really stepped up its game here lately.

Now on to Food Giant...oh, my, my, my...where to begin. How about a list of some of this store's more major offenses that I've encountered over the course of several months...?

*no limes...none...zero
*gnats swarming the red onions
*fresh salmon is gray in color?
*no couscous whatsoever
*zucchini sold only in cellophane-wrapped packs of three
*every single half-gallon of skim milk expires tomorrow
*only TWO...count 'em...one, two...different varieties of frozen pizzas
*no fresh snow peas...not even in a bag
*lady fingers?!?!?!...what are THOSE?!

Food Giant's perks? Pretty much all I can say is that I have gotten some decent meat for a reasonable price (excluding the above-mentioned salmon). Each time I patronize this store, I come home with high blood pressure and swearing that I'll never return. Then again, what choice do I have?

We're currently getting ready to put our house on the market. So we've been visiting open houses and scoping out homes online. We're fairly educated buyers. Which means we know the three important characteristics for good real estate: Location, Location, Location (read: Near a Publix, Near a Publix, Near a Publix)! Because honestly that is all I care about on this next go-around. Forget the hideousness of the seafoam green tile in the bathroom, the outdated paisley dining room wallpaper, or even the shag carpet in the half-finished basement...JUST GIVE ME A DECENT GROCERY STORE!!!!

Q: Are the grocery store chains conspiring together to ruin my life?!
A: Yes, in their own unique ways. Food World, by closing. Wal-mart, by constantly attracting hordes of freaks. Food Giant, by consistently managing to suck. Publix, by continuing to elude me...