This Shouldn't Be So Difficult

We have had two challenging, yet ridiculous, experiences lately.  This definitely qualifies as First World Problems, but it's still unnecessarily annoying.

First, Kevin broke our ice cream scoop.  I'm unsure how, but he managed.  So, no big deal, we were going to the store the next day so we added it onto the list.  This is where I say that we shouldn't shop together because we're both youngest children.  One of us are going to make an impulse purchase.

Who knew how many different kinds of ice cream scoops there are.  I mean, it's not a complicated tool, I don't understand why there are so many variations. I get that I can barely find the kitchen aisles in most stores but this is an ice cream scoop. 

Funny aside: Kevin spotted a melon baller and mentioned "Why would someone even bother?"  Also, a store worker tried to help us but I don't think she quite got our not complicated requirements for an ice cream scoop.

The one that was most similar to the one that was broken had a bright pink handle.  I can't even.  I know it's silly but I'm not a twelve year old girl.  Finally, we just chose the simplest, sturdiest one.

While checking out, I noticed the price of the scoop.  $15.99.  FOR AN ICE CREAM SCOOP. 

Kevin had taken a call while we were checking out, when he returned I asked him to guess how much the scoop cost.  He ventured a guess of $7. He joined me in righteous indignation when he heard the price tag. 

We totally returned it and bought a more reasonably priced one.  Which one was it, you wonder?  The one with the unfortunately pink handle. 

I'm still astounded that there are so many variations of ice cream scoops, something that a sturdy, large spoon can do.  Also, how stupidly expensive they are.  Bored? look it up on the amazon. There's one that is $34.95.  For an ICE CREAM SCOOP.

(photo courtesy of amazon.com)

It occurs to me that this post shows that we are the youngest children.  You'll see why in a second.

We went out to dinner with the kids on Sunday, a rare treat. (with the kids, not the pizza part)  The in-laws chose the restaurant, a pizza place in one of the historical districts of Bellingham.  They love it but it's not my favorite.  This is coming from me, the person who would eat pizza every day if I didn't want to be 3,000 lbs and dead.

Here is why it's not my favorite:
There are categories of pizza, by city: New York, Detroit, Chicago. 
Then, instead of the standard Vegetarian, Hawaiian, Meat Lovers, style of pizzas they have names like 57 Packard or Lakeshore Drive or Marshall Fields. 
And, the ingredients are all very similar, mostly consisting of combinations of red meat and gourmet cheeses.

This is pizza, folks, it doesn't have to be so complicated. It's just so hipster.

To add insult to injury, the pizza isn't that great.  Our in-laws were completely befuddled as to why we didn't like it.  It's like they don't even know us.  We are a PB&J couple, not a pita with hummus and organic celery couple.

This concludes the This Shouldn't Be So Difficult portion of my life. This is also where I would suggest that we need bigger problems but that ship has sailed over the past few years for us.  So, I get to pout about ice cream scoops and hipster pizza.