Clandestine Shopping

In my teenage years, my Dad pretty much gave up going to the big city shopping.  He made that my cross to bear while he stayed home and watched sports on TV.

Shopping with my mom was quite the experience.  She attacked shopping in much the same way an army invades a small country.  Even in my youth I could not keep up with her – she literally shopped my socks off practically every Saturday.  Maybe this is the reason my husband is blessed with one of the few women on earth who HATE shopping. I really do hate Wal-Mart and loathe going to the mall. Hmmmm, now I'm understanding why I have few women friends.

I would have loved to stay home and get ready for a Saturday night date, but NO!  Mom had a purpose for me.

After she had laid waste to the retail opportunities afforded by the town of Borger, TX., she would pile all her purchases in the back seat of the car and instruct me to assume the position.

It was my job to take a small pair of nail scissors and carefully cut off all price tags.  After the incriminating evidence had been removed – I would fold, roll, bend, staple and mutilate each item and place them in the smallest possible shopping bag.  It was important for said bag to not look as if it were bulging at the seams.

All tags, receipts, sales tickets, etc. were placed in an envelope that she tucked away in her handbag.

Arriving home, she would breeze through the door with her miniscule bag, sigh and exclaim “I spent all day in Borger and couldn’t find anything that I really couldn’t live without.”  Dad…..hypnotized by the television would murmur his acceptance of this blatant falsehood without batting an eyelash.

As soon as he left the house, we would have a ritualistic burning of tags and receipts and all items would be laundered, ironed and hung in the closet.  Over the course of several weeks, those new items would appear and Dad (ever observant) would say “is that new, I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”

And there it would be ……..the opportunity to come clean – purge her conscience and mine, own up to the truth and face the music.  And with the same ease of spirit my sweet mother would say “Oh, Vernie….this old thing?  Why I’ve had this forever.”

My lot was cast, my fate sealed….I was forever a guilty accomplice in the act of clandestine shopping.  Not to mention….bald faced lying!

I miss you mom, I would cut off a million tags to have you to go shopping with again.

Rapturous, Frabjous, Joyous Day!

Okay, so maybe the “rapture” will happen today…..or maybe it won’t.  Right now most of the people I know subscribe to the theory that no one CAN or WILL know God’s timetable for planet earth.

But it might be nice if we could all dust off our very best behavior, put on clean suit of kindness clothes, take a couple of forgiveness vitamins and set forth in the world today as joyous, rapturous children of a loving God.

That old expression “live everyday as if it could be your last” rings pretty darned true today.  There will never be a better day to say I’m sorry to someone you’ve wronged, never be a better time to forgive someone who has wronged you.  It is a perfect time to start living the life you’ve been planning to for a while and just never took the time to start.

It’s also a great time to lay down your worries and your problems and do something fun.  Even if it means simply rolling around in the yard with your dog.  Find your pure, unadulterated FUN button and press it till your finger is sore.

As for me – I refuse to be overwhelmed by fear, regret and negativity.  A few weeks ago, I embarked on a new mind set and I find I am becoming a much happier person.    I am responsible for my own happiness and well being.  Others may contribute to the positive energy but I refuse to entertain any more negativity.  It is counterproductive to what I have to accomplish.

So have a Frabjous, Joyous Happy Day everybody!!!  Even though the “rapture” may not happen you can still be a Rapturous human being!!

Can You Hummus A Few Bars

Okay – it is official – I have slid over to the dark side.  It all began with my love of Birkenstock sandals I’m sure of it.

Hopefully, someone will stage an intervention before I quit wearing supportive undergarments and shaving my legs.

But, they cannot stop my new found love for Hummus.  Seriously, where has this stuff been all my life?  This could very well be my newest addiction which means banana fudgesicles will have to languish in the freezer unnoticed and untouched.

I’ve tried three kinds of this stuff and I haven’t met a Hummus I didn’t like.  So, if you hear me going “ahumina, humina, humina” you should immediately hand me a hummus laden crispy cracker.  I’ll be your new best friend!  BTW – thanks Luke P for starting me down this road of no return.

Trapped…….Like Rats!

Thursday night’s torrential rain storm brought about a few challenges.  I live in a horseshoe shaped housing addition which yields 2 exit points.  There is also a twisty, curvy back outlet that is only advantageous if you are going a certain direction.

Big winds snapped off highline poles like toothpicks along the road that leads into our addition.  The electric company is out there at work (bless their souls) on a Saturday righting the situation and improving the poles with metal instead of wood.

However, they have now sealed off all but one avenue of escape from my house.  The only direction I can go is south!  Sometimes I don’t want to go south, sometimes I would prefer to go north.  Particularly since I am currently boycotting the grocery store south of me for selling me rancid fish.

Now, what used to be a 10 minute jaunt to the Dollar Store for a needed supply involves at least 45 minutes of backtracking, circling and finding alternative routes.

I’ve finally found a reason why I should have a GPS in my car – I can no longer find my way to the Dollar Store on my own.

How Much is Toooo Healthy?

So..the big news in my life is last Friday I consulted with a nutritionist.  I know……why on earth would I do such a thing?  Perhaps being the oldest person at my new job pushed me in this direction.  Perhaps it was because it was free and I feel like it is a mortal sin to turn down anything free.

Whatever the reason – I did it and WOW!  What a sobering experience.  I won’t sicken you with the details but suffice it to say that if I were dropped in the ocean I would float perfectly well until consumed by sharks with a highly developed palette for FAT!

You know me, I try to find the humor in everything – so on my folder given to me with much chastising from Ms. Healthy I wrote MY FAT GIRL FOLDER.

I’m kind of upset that I have been very good for 3 days and am not yet a size 10.  What’s up with that?  I don’t have a lot of patience – I need to see fairly instantaneous results.

We will see what happens Friday when I go for my first weigh in and re-measurement.  If there is not some good report I’m going to need a Cheeseburger STAT!

Take Me Out To The Ballgame!

My husband says even a bad day at the ballpark beats a pretty good day anywhere else.  For those who think that I have changed him let me assure you he has far more of an impact on me than the reverse.

Till there was Roger, there was no coffee, no baseball and very little cheese.  Now there is an abundance of all three.  We used to take a yearly trip to St. Louis to watch the Cards…then we became too busy to go and then….the poverty troll attacked and the fun died.

Now, there is my new job which in itself is a pleasure and a blessing but yesterday yielded up free tickets to a HOG game!  Pretty exciting, huh?  And yet, I had to force him to go.  This is how you can tell your husband is in a very dark and scary place.

But, I whined and pouted and slung enough dishes that he finally gave in.  And now….he is very glad he did…except for one little, tiny little, thing.  Our amazing Karma was in great health last night and in a NOT SOLD OUT ballpark, the most annoying jackass on the face of the earth managed to sit right next to us.  To make matters even worse he was root root rooting for the other team.

I just switched off the hearing aids, turned my back on him and refused to let him ruin my night.  But he was banging on every nerve Roger had left.

And then…..Karma switched places and we sent the Gators packing back to the swamp of the eternal stench for that evening anyway.

Something tells me the crazed Chatty Cathy doll missed the subtlety of a Karmic “gotcha”.  Even now, somewhere he is busily pulling his own string, running his pie hole incessantly and wondering why everyone around him have ears that are dripping blood.

Good Morning Miss Dove

And you too – dovie!

There is a dove nesting in the weeping cherry outside my office window.  Right now I feel compelled to go hold an umbrella over her little head because it is raining torrents.  Everyday, I walk out to the tree – look at her and she looks back with her black little eyes unblinking.  I tell her good morning.  I admire her devotion and understand her dilemma.  Somewhere, the good mister is safely sheltered out of the rain while she sits on that nest.  Bless her gentle little bones – I feel quite a kinship to her.  Suddenly..it is all up to her.  Her family will succeed or fail on her devotion to her duty.

This morning I also watched the old Jennifer Jones movie “Good Morning Miss Dove.”  It made me remember, one of the first grown up books I read was this story.  I read early – largely thanks to my Grandma Sawyer who always packed my Christmas box with lots of books of the kid variety.  However, my parents had a whole bunch of Reader’s Digest condensed books and I moved on to them eventually.  The story of the little spinster school teacher was my first “adult” story.  And I hadn’t thought of it in years, but watching the movie made it all come rushing back. Sitting in the side yard under the locust tree, feeling Miss Dove’s yearnings and disappointments.  And then joyfully celebrating the achievements of students she probably agonized over.  And just as Dovie is dedicated to her job, Miss Dove proved dedicated to hers as well.  I’m fine…let’s all get back to work!