Searching for my gym bag led to a shocking revelation: it was gone. After gutting the car, laundry room and rest of the house,
searching in rooms and closets where I never take my gym bag, I recreated
the scene of the crime. I had dropped my daughter off at her job at the farmer’s market, went to the gym, came back to retrieve
her and get lunch, and in approaching the car noticed that I had inadvertently
left the passenger side back seat window down.
It was a warm spring day and the car was a crock pot when I
got in after the gym, so I drove with the windows down to the market. I thought, ‘stupid’ when I unlocked the
door and loaded the flat of strawberries, chess pie, sun gold tomato plants and
bags of produce in the back seat and my daughter climbed in front.
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| Little Ladybug Pies. buy them. |
It wasn’t until I was loading the car again for school on
Monday that I was looking to resupply the gym bag and could not find it. We were running
too late to search. Normal Monday.
It was later that afternoon that I tore the house apart and
the cold reality settled in my gut.
Someone had reached in behind the driver seat and somehow managed to
pull it out without setting off the alarm. I did a quick mental inventory: running shoes, stinky sweaty
outfit, new North Face fleece, iPod and headphones, toiletry bag of face stuff,
toiletry bag of hair stuff. And
the bag itself. Nothing irreplaceable and no cash or credit cards. But an expensive haul to replace.
I vented aloud that a karmic pox fall upon the gym bag
thief, who probably dumped the whole lot in the trash when they realized there
was no cash or credit cards. I
doubt they will appreciate my Rodin
perfume or my audible download of The Wind Up Girl. That all my lotions and make up are
organic. A pox I say, ‘may your
pants always feel tight, may your earbuds always tangle, may your shampoo
bottle always be empty.’
Speaking of religious gym attendance, questionable behavior and too snug britches, Zingers will be revived and
on shelves again by the end of summer.
Vanilla & Devil’s Food with gummy icing and fake crème filling and the
bright fuchsia coconut sprinkled Raspberry met their end along with their more
famous sister, the Twinkie, last
year. Twinkies are the Marcia
Brady to Zingers Jan. The American snack cake was made by both Dolly
Madison and Hostess, which makes zero sense.
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| Blue Collar Eclair photo by Zingersfan* |
Hostess closed down after it offered a contract that would
cut it’s worker’s wages by 8% and benefits by 27 to 32%. Workers went on strike and the company
decided to shut down. Somewhere
this might have to do with people wisely not buying the product for health reasons.
But there was a nostalgic public outcry about the disappearance of the classic
Twinkie. (Marcia Marcia Marcia!)
Hostess was bought by an investment group and the new boss, Michael Cramer is adamant to avoid working with
unions and will reopen with non-union hires to replace the teamsters and Bakery
Union employees who were on strike when the company folded last year. How American.
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