Crock-Pot Land

I have now officially entered adulthood. I keep pretending like I haven’t and that I’m still kind of a kid. I suppose we spend our entire lives doing that though, so I don’t feel all that bad. And really, I’ve been in the “real world” for enough time now that I even find myself lacking sympathy for when my friends in college complain about “not having time” or “being busy.” Right. Anyhow, the most recent leap into adulthood came when I found myself insanely excited about my Christmas presents this year. Not ecstatic like when I got my first Cabbage Patch Kid, but crock-pot excited. Because that’s the kind of gift I got this year. A brand spankin new crock-pot. All my own. And knives. Nice ones. As if the excitement from Santa’s gifts weren’t enough, my aunt bought me muffin tins. And the little tin-liner-thingamabobs whose real names I don’t even know because I’ve never had any before. But you can bet they will be used in a hurry.

And oh boy, wonder of wonders, my grandmother passed on her handy-dandy FOLDABLE grocery cart. If you don’t live in New York (or really, any city where you have to walk to get things rather than drive a car that is conveniently parked 100 feet from the door to wherever you’re going), you will think this is the most ridiculous thing ever. I am not ashamed however, and will share in detail. Essentially, it’s a huge pain in the booty to schlep groceries the 7 minute walk from the store to my apartment. Sure, I can do Fresh Direct, or sure I can pay $2 to have my groceries delivered if it’s REALLY too much to carry. But for the most part, I schlep my daily/weekly groceries back up the hill (okok, it's a gradual incline) to my apartment. Oh but not anymore. Because now I have joined the ranks of those special enough to own a collapsible cart that can assist in the transport of many things, most notably groceries. However, this isn’t just ANY cart- this one is canvas, and collapses into a tiny little purse-sized entity (yes, even the wheels), convenient for even the tiniest of New York apartments. Glory. Genius. Greatness. My dad made fun of me, but he has no idea that I will now be the coolest gal on the block.

So, now that I have just gone on and on about my GROCERY CART, as if the whole wide world has nothing better to read about than my silly domesticity, I will get back to more important matters. Like my new towels. They are big. And soft. And wonderful. And my very first and own set of towels. My godmother also bought me an appetizers cook book, which will be put to good use for my next party. The list goes on, basically a laundry list (no pun intended) of other useful and practical domestic items that I couldn’t have been happier to receive.

If this is what being an adult is like, bring it on.