really good feta

“You know, when I lived in Chicago, there were so many Greeks there, I used to get the best feta cheese. You could buy a giant wedge of it for three dollars and it was so delicious and so good.”

As opposed to the feta cheese I was buying at that moment, which, I guess, was not as delicious and not as good. The clerk at Food City was so busy telling me about the feta cheese he used to buy that he bagged mine with my warm groceries instead of with my cold groceries. Do they not give some sort of bagger-training, or was he too busy yammering about better groceries at other stores during that, too?

I didn’t go to the grocery store to get feta cheese. That was more of an impulsive, “Hey, look, feta cheese is on sale! You should buy it and make that dip you like!” purchase. I went to the grocery store to cash in my change vase:



It’s come a long way since it was a fishbowl:



Anyway, last time I cashed in my change I had a much bigger jug and six years’ worth, rather than ten months. Since there aren’t any quarters in the jar I figured it was probably about twenty dollars or so, maybe twenty-five at the most, but it turned out to be forty-seven. Not a bad haul.

On my way out of the store I looked at the plant display, and thought briefly about getting a hanging plant for the hook on my porch. I had a cactus out there last year, but it died, and I keep meaning to replace it, but then I look two porches down at Porch Pots Lady’s porch:



She’s got so many plants out there that they overtake the porch and spill down the steps. I can’t even begin to compete with that, and it’s best that I not try since my plant will just end up dying anyway.