Sunday morning on our way to church, we stopped by our son’s house to drop off a book he requested. They were just finishing breakfast, and Court was preparing to drive over to Walmart to pick up some groceries.

He wasn’t going to shop, however. His wife ordered the groceries online and he simply had to pick them up. Convenient, no?

They could, in fact, have the groceries delivered for a small fee, but they wouldn’t have been delivered until the next day. So in order to expedite things, he elected to pick them up.

My reaction to that whole idea of ordering groceries online was very positive. They have three little kids living at home, the smallest being only seven months old. Why deal with herding cats if you can let someone else shop for you?

Later that same day, I got an email from a friend who told me about a service she had begun using called Instacart. It is somewhat the same thing, I think, except that you choose from several grocery stores in your neighborhood – Kroger, Safeway, Whole Foods, and Costco among them – and place your order online. Within a couple of hours, your groceries are delivered to your door for a $3.99 delivery fee and a tip.

Since I bumped into this idea twice in one day, I concluded it must be a thing. And as a hip and trendy blogger, I must keep up with current, well, things, if you will.

Grocery delivery isn’t a new concept, mind you. I had groceries delivered to me from King Soopers years ago when I was a single mother who worked full time. At that time – when dinosaurs still roamed the earth – you placed your order via fax rather than online. There was no online. And nowadays kids have no idea what the word fax even means. At first I loved the idea of not having to go to the grocery store on weekends when everyone else did. After a couple of times, however, it began to drive me crazy that I couldn’t pick out my own meat and vegetables. Plus there was that whole delivery fee thing, and, being a single mother, money didn’t grow on trees. (Well, I guess it doesn’t grow on trees whether or not you’re a single mother, but I digress…)

My friend who uses Instacart sent me a link to the site and a $10 coupon from Instacart, so I logged on to see what I thought.

Whaaaaat? Here’s what I thought: Wow, these prices seem a LOT higher than shopping in the store, at least at King Soopers (Kroger). I have started paying rapt attention to prices these days as our income is less than it used to be and grocery prices seem to increase rapidly – sometimes it seems like they’re higher when I leave the store than when I arrive!

But since I’m retired and have nothing more important to do than watch Foyle’s War on Netflix, I decided to take a field trip over to King Soopers. My suspicions were confirmed. (I feel like such an AWESOME detective.)

Let’s assume this is my grocery list….

1 lb. 93% ground beef, 1 lb. 96% ground beef, one loaf Orowheat Whole Wheat bread, one 12-ct package Mission flour tortillas caseras, one package Thomas English Muffins, ½ gallon Horizon Organic 2% milk, 1 doz. Eggland’s Best large eggs, one 8 oz. pkg  Sargento Provolone deli slices, one container Cherub tomatoes, one 25 oz. jar Simple Truth Marinara, one pkg. Dole Caesar salad kit

I would pay $12.80 more by buying them on Instacart instead of going to the grocery store. And that’s not including delivery or tip.

I am not editorializing or expressing an opinion, I assure you. It may well be worth 13 bucks to not have to use precious free time that you could spend with your family to go to the grocery store. I’m just not sure the fact that the groceries are so much higher is well publicized.

Here is a Denver Post article about Instacart. In the article, it states that Whole Foods’ prices are the same whether you buy them in the store or from Instacart. I can’t confirm or deny, not being that dedicated a detective. But if it’s in the newspaper, it MUST be true!

Also, I don’t know if the higher prices hold true when you order directly from the store like my son and daughter-in-law did. I would check that out, but I need to get back to Foyle’s War.

This is my customer service announcement for the day. Now if I could just find someone to do my Christmas shopping for me! I would pay HUNDREDS.

Happy grocery shopping friends, no matter how you do it.

As much as I have talked about how I have to move beyond the secular side of Christmas this Advent season, I must admit that I think the best part about Christmas is the presents under the tree.

Now don’t get me wrong. I don’t necessarily think I need any gifts at all. I am truly blessed, and have waaaaay to much stuff as it is. But I love those presents under the tree. I always have. They are so full of mystery. That gift could be anything at all. It’s a wondrous feeling, especially if you’re a kid.

For his part, Bill can barely keep a gift a secret. He loves to give gifts to people, but the whole waiting and anticipating part of it, well, not so much. Of course, we are both so independent and difficult to buy for since we usually buy ourselves what we want or need. I literally have to tell him with firmness to stop buying himself things as Christmas nears so that there is something to give him as a present. As the years go by, we generally simply tell each other what to buy, and often are present when it is being purchased. I, for example was with him Sunday when he bought my present. In fact, I picked it out. He will wrap it, and I will act surprised when I open it, though we both know I won’t be.

I have mostly been good about not peeking at my presents. I remember, however, one year when I was probably 10 or 11 years old. I wanted a watch. I kept my eye on the gifts as they grew in number under the tree. Finally, one day there was a gift for me that might have been that watch. I would pick it up and shake it and then put it back under the tree. A bit later I would pick it up and hold it to the light to see if I could possibly see what it was under the wrapping. I wanted that watch so, so much.

Finally, I could stand it no longer. At some point when I was alone in the living room, I carefully pried open one side of the wrapping paper. Sure enough, I could see the ripple of the plastic Timex watch box. I took great care to tape the side back up. But here’s the thing. While I was so happy to know that I was getting the watch I wanted so much, the surprise had been ruined, and that made me sad. I never did it again.

Some people are really good at guessing gifts. Jen, for example, is somewhat psychic. I remember one year when Bill and I were first dating and he bought me a Christmas gift. It was a small box, all wrapped up. Jen took one look at it and told me it was a gift card to take a hot air balloon ride. Having never had any desire to take a hot air balloon ride, I didn’t take her very seriously.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, it was indeed a gift certificate for a hot air balloon ride. To this day she swears he hadn’t told her. Now that I have been married to him for 22 years and know how incapable he is of keeping gifts a secret, I’m pretty sure he told her. She will deny it, of course, as will he.

My grandson Alastair is another one who is very good at guessing presents. With a single shake, he will tell me, “this is such and such,” and he’s most often correct. Of course, he is aided by the fact that I get them some of the same things each year – a pair of pajamas, a Christmas ornament, etc. And let’s face it, you don’t have to be psychic to identify a box of Legos.

But the funniest story I have about Christmas presents took place a couple of years ago when Kaiya and Mylee were 4 and 2, respectively. Their mom and dad had placed the wrapped presents under the tree. A couple of days before Christmas, the two kids could wait no longer. When their parents came downstairs that morning, all of the gifts had been opened and the kids were happily playing with the toys. Here is the picture taken after they were scolded and put in time out. Talk about looking guilty….

When I was a little girl, I used to thank God for making me a Catholic. I don’t know why. I didn’t have any basis for comparison. I was a cradle Catholic. I went to Catholic school so all my friends were Catholic. It wasn’t that I thought you could only get to heaven if you were Catholic. It was just what I knew.

Or maybe it was the pretty little chapel veils we pinned to our hair.

Anyway, now that I’m older and wiser, I am well aware that some of the kindest, most loving, and most generous people I know are not Catholic. Surprise, surprise, God loves them too.

I was thinking about this as I listened to the readings at yesterday’s Mass. Not really about being Catholic (though I still love my Catholic faith), but about being a Christian. Because, boy, the message was clear. Prepare the way of the Lord. Between the words of Isaiah and St. Mark’s story of John the Baptist, it was clear that Advent is a time of preparation. I mentioned this last week when I was talking about how caught up I was in the secular side of the season. Now, Monsignor tells me not only do I have to prepare personally for the coming of Christ, I have to prepare others as well. Just like John the Baptist.

Whaaaaat? I have a job during Advent? I’m too tied up hanging my stockings with care to prepare the way for others.

Dagny demonstrates the insect she was about to eat. She would undoubtedly be able to hang with John the Baptist.

Of course, I don’t own any clothes made out of camel hair and I simply refuse to eat locusts and honey (though some of my grandkids have been known to eat a bug or two).

But I can do what I can do, if only through example. And rats, Monsignor even said I have to be nice to the people who show up Christmas Day for Mass and take my seat. Now that’s asking a lot.

But as a Catholic Christian, I have to make sure I am demonstrating that all Christians should be full of the love that Jesus modeled and asked us to carry on in his name.

Of course, Jesus didn’t have to give up his pew in church.

Silent Night is one of my favorite Christmas hymns. I don’t need to say any more……

http://faithtap.com/2154/clarkson-yearwood-and-mcentire-sing-silent-night/

Have a great weekend.

I’m breaking up with my Fitbit. Well, not breaking up, exactly. I’m taking a break.

Why? Because it’s making me a crazy person. Being not crazy takes more discipline than it used to, I’m afraid.

There may be some people – people who aren’t crazy – who don’t know what a Fitbit is. A Fitbit is a device that you wear that tells you how active you are. In my case, specifically how many steps I take in a day.

The main difference between a Fitbit and a simple pedometer is that a Fitbit is tied to technology – your smart phone or your computer – and you compete with others of your choosing. Fitbit keeps you motivated by delivering to your email a rundown of just how good or bad you are doing.

The idea is that by competing, you will be challenged to be more active than you would be otherwise. For me, that has been the case. But in the meantime, the other side of the coin is that it has made me a crazy person.

I compete against a son, a couple of nieces, and a nephew. But mostly I compete against my sister Bec. The reason for this is that the others leave me in their dust. Kate is, after all, a professional dancer. How can I possibly compete, not being a professional dancer? In fact, I’m not a professional anything, although I’m pretty good at watching Foyle’s War episodes in the afternoons. No steps there, I’m afraid.

Bec and I live about the same kind of life, so we are pretty good competitors. Sometimes she’ll outdo me in a day, but I might outdo her the next day. Back and forth.  My goal is always 10,000 steps, and I get there more often than I don’t.

What then makes me a crazy person? It’s the fact that I am addicted to the Fitbit. I attach it to my body immediately upon arising and remove it immediately upon going to bed at night. Furthermore, if I happen to not have it fastened on to my body for any reason, I tend to think the steps don’t count.

For example, if I have removed the Fitbit and remember that I left something downstairs, I put on the Fitbit so that those 27 steps will be measured. It’s as if I think the steps somehow don’t matter if they are not counted by the Fitbit.

If I’m not wearing the Fitbit for some reason (and I can’t actually think about what possible reason would cause me to not attach the dang thing to my body), I will actually find myself thinking there is no need to park far away from the door since the steps won’t be counted.

Seriously.

A month or so ago, I decided that instead of wearing the Fitbit on my wrist where it’s designed to be worn, I would wear it on my ankle. My thinking was that sometimes my steps aren’t measured when it’s on my wrist because I might, for example, be pushing a shopping cart of carrying something that prevents my arm from going back and forth. Wearing it on my ankle, I deduced, would result in all steps being counted.

Except that it began making my foot numb. And yet, I continued to wear it on my ankle, until I finally got a grip and reminded myself that probably causing a blood clot in my leg that would then travel to my lungs and make me croak was negating the effectiveness of the Fitbit.

I could have just started once again wearing it on my wrist, and I probably will eventually. But in the meantime, just like with all bad relationships, Fitbit and I just need to take a break from one another.

It’s not you; it’s me.

Many families travel to New York City during the holidays. Bec and Jen took a late summer trip to NYC, and Bec offers some wonderful tips for a relatively inexpensive, and yet fun, dining in this very expensive location.

By Rebecca Borman

Whenever someone learns that I’ve made a trip to New York, I am inevitably asked two questions:  What did you do?  Where did you eat?  Those are hard questions to answer succinctly, because I do and eat a lot!  And, I think people are a bit surprised by my answer to the second question.

The expectation is that visiting a world-class city will certainly include some very fine (and expensive) dining.  And, when I first started going to New York, that was the case.   My first trip was with my daughter, the summer before her 16^th birthday.  And, we dined fancy!  One night, we had dinner on the patio at Tavern on the Green.  It was fun, and the atmosphere was very cool.  Another night, we ventured to the Pool Room at the Four Seasons Restaurant.  I don’t remember specifically what we ate, but the room was very posh, as was the service.  We felt very special.

Since then, however, I’ve become less and less interested in eating at such high end places.  Instead, I’ve started to develop some favorites that I don’t want to miss.  The first evening in the city usually involves a walk down Restaurant Row, to Becco.  As Kris has mentioned, we are big fans of Lidia Bastianich and her Italian cooking.  Becco is her restaurant, and although I’ve certainly never seen her there, her presence is felt in the food.  One of the specialties is a “Sinfonia di Pasta” (three pastas), which is served every day, although the pastas and sauces are never the same.  They are always fabulous, and so is everything else on the menu.  More than that, there is an energy in the restaurant that epitomizes New York.  It’s always crowded with a combination of tourists and locals, which makes for a fun evening.  And the extensive list of excellent wines for $25 doesn’t hurt, either.

The other “must” for me is a drink and maybe a nosh in the 8^th floor bar at the Marriott Renaissance Times Square.  Their martinis are always yummy, and sitting at the window and looking down over the activity below is wonderfully entertaining.  The neon signs outside the windows remind me that I’m lucky to be in the center of an amazing and vibrant city.

But, otherwise, I tend to eat where my feet and adventures take me.  I think Eataly will become one of my regular stops; I ate there twice on my most recent trip.  And, I can’t miss lunch in Little Italy at some point.  I don’t have a favorite restaurant; I just stroll along the streets, look at the menus and the food that folks are enjoying at the sidewalk tables, and I wander into the one that takes my fancy.  I haven’t been disappointed yet.  One evening, when Jen and I were on the Upper East Side, we happened upon Jacques Brasserie, where we had an al fresco feast of moules frites (mussels and fries) and watched the neighborhood people walking their dogs, carrying home their groceries, and winding down from their day.

And, when people ask about the expense of eating in the City, I assure them that there are a greater variety of inexpensive food trucks than you can imagine.  Jen and I ate gyros twice, and they were delicious.  No breakfast ever tastes better to me than the coffee and bagels from a corner—any corner—food cart (total cost: $2.50).  And the food truck offerings are amazing.  A few blocks from our hotel we saw two trucks next to each other.  One of them sold assorted schnitzels and the other had grilled cheese.  You can eat like royalty for next to nothing.

A family wanting to visit New York may have to pay a fair amount for airfare and hotel costs.  But, if thrift is a priority, eating doesn’t have to cost a lot.  Kids will have more fun eating casually or picnicking with yummy stuff from a food truck than they would dining at a fancy restaurant.  And, honestly, these days, so do I.