Yesterday, I had to run an errand for Kevin-he had a minor issue yesterday with the tailor at the exchange. Surprisingly enough, when a tailor sews name tapes on uniforms, it actually matters that the right name tapes go on the right uniforms. (It makes quite a difference to the wearer, actually.) When I walked into the tailor shop today to pick up the (thankfully) right uniforms, the man behind the counter, who is admittedly a rather tall, lanky fellow, said, “Man, you are SMALL. Ah, I’m just kiddin’.” We conducted our business and I went on my merry way.
But honestly, this time it felt different. Everyone has talked to those friends who say that they feel younger than they are (“I still feel like I’m in high school, how can I be a college graduate/a mom/somebody with real responsibilities and a life that doesn’t involve remembering a locker combination?”). I think I had that problem, but now I don’t. Maybe living so far away from my parents has helped me to feel and act my age. Which brings me to my point-I actually feel like enough of an adult, an officer’s wife, a paying customer in this shop, whatever, to say that this was not appropriate. It used to be that I would giggle and think it’s funny, but now…it’s not.
And when I got the uniforms home, they were still wrong. I had to get on the phone all day today and get it all worked out, and tomorrow after the spouses’ picnic, I’m going back to the tailor shop to get a refund. For the record, this was a tailor shop that is operated under the MCCS on base, so the manager above the owner of the store was very helpful. I saw that some of the searches for this blog are “Marine TBS”, so if anybody who is reading this is near or around Q-town, be a little careful of the tailor shop at the exchange on Mainside. I’m sure they will be more careful now, but we have decided that Kevin’s uniforms are going to The Marine Shop. It’s just not worth the headache!!
On a completely different note, anybody want to know what we’re having for dinner?
Ok, probably not, because you’re wondering what on earth YOU’re fixing for dinner.
Never mind that. Remember that you’re here to read my blog. Worry about your own problems out loud on your own blog.
For serious. I have mentioned my love-hate relationship with Hamburger Helper. It’s a real issue, folks. The convenience…the unpronounceable ingredients that make it not really food…the need to feed my husband…the need to feed us something good. It’s a stressor.
Enter real skillet dinners, that are just as easy as Hamburger Helper, but you know what is actually in them, instead of combining meat, pasta, water/milk, and the ambiguously labeled “sauce packet.”
Yum: ground chicken, onion, tomatoes, garlic, basil, oregano, whole wheat rotini, and lots and lots of cheese. (When in doubt, melt cheese over everything.)