For the perfectionists out there

A few lines of this poem stuck so firmly in my head that a couple weeks ago I decided to memorize the whole thing. Being Mary Hume is one of my greatest fears in life.

ALMOST PERFECT

"Almost perfect . . . but not quite."
Those were the words of Mary Hume
At her seventh birthday party,
Looking 'round the ribboned room.
"This tablecloth is pink not white—
Almost perfect . . . but not quite."

"Almost perfect . . . but not quite."
Those were the words of grown-up Mary
Talking about her handsome beau,
The one she wasn't gonna marry.
"Squeezes me a bit too tight—
Almost perfect . . . but not quite."

"Almost perfect . . . but not quite."
Those were the words of ol' Miss Hume
Teaching in the seventh grade,
Grading papers in the gloom
Late at night up in her room.
"They never cross their t's just right—
Almost perfect . . . but not quite."

Ninety-eight the day she died
Complainin' 'bout the spotless floor.
People shook their heads and sighed,
"Guess that she'll like heaven more."
Up went her soul on feathered wings,
Out the door, up out of sight.
Another voice from heaven came—
"Almost perfect . . . but not quite."

From A Light in the Attic, by Shel Silverstein, Copyright 1981, HarperCollins Publishers, New York.

I'm in love with a store named Joe

I expect everyone
of my crowd to make fun
of my proud protestations of faith and romance.
And they'll say I'm naive
as a babe to believe
every fable I hear from a person in pants.
Fearlessly, I'll face them and argue their doubts away.
Loudly, I'll sing about flowers in spring.
Flatly, I'll stand on my little flat feet and say,
Love is a grand and a beautiful thing.

Rodgers and Hammerstein, "A Wonderful Guy"

So I went to Trader Joe's for the very first time yesterday evening. I've known about Trader Joe's for a long time, but to be honest I've avoided going there. This is because I suspected it was exactly the kind of place where I could spend way too much money. And if I went once and loved it, I'd have to go again, and again, and again, until gradually it became a habit and part of my budget became devoted to rare and unusual Trader Joe's goodies. Was I ready for that kind of commitment?

Well, I made the leap and I'm never looking back. As soon as I stepped into the store a huge grin spread across my face, and I actually had to stand there for a minute, taking it all in and trying to decide where I wanted to go first. Trader Joe's said to me, "Hello, Sarah. We've been scouring the world for just the kinds of foods you might like—a little quirky, fresh and healthy, but above all, delicious—and put it all in just the kind of store you might like—a store with employees who seem to love their job, cashiers who'll actually talk to you, and hometown grocery touches like handwritten price signs. Our packaging is well-designed and our ads are witty, with a neo-Victorian style similar to this web comic you love. Everyone here likes what you like. Come on in. Welcome home."

I wonder what the store clerks thought of me, wandering slowly down the aisles, sometimes twice to look at everything, smiling dreamily. Crusty, nutty bread! Nuts in the cereal! Plantain chips! Soyaki sauce! Thai and Indian frozen dinners! Fresh pasta and polenta! Miso! Pesto! "Hold back, now," I told myself as I cautiously filled my basket. "Remember the money." But to be honest, I was pleasantly surprised by the prices there, and it's more of a grocery store than the glorified snack emporium I was expecting, so I can make it part of my grocery budget and grocery shopping instead of a supplemental frivolity. And I'll save money when I buy things I'm excited to eat instead of things I think I should eat but let rot in the fridge. Why should I settle for a mealy salisbury steak dinner when I can get paneer tikka masala?

So Trader Joe found the way to my heart. I'm in love.