Archive for the 'Friends' Category

Sep 25 2013

Curses, Foiled Again!

Published by under Friends,The Boy

Today, I drove two hours with The Boy in order to go to a huge sample sale that Macker’s company was throwing. We’re talking major deals, 7 hours only. I was so there. Mackers had sent me a map because the town she works in is a little on the dorkily-laid-out side, so once I got into town, I checked the map. Then I realized I have no “follow map” skills, so I punched in the name of her company to Google Maps and let the GPS guide me.

The GPS took me down a road to a building that had a tent set up in the parking lot. Big sale signs everywhere. Hey, I made it! I parked, got The Boy set up in his stroller with snacks, drink, and DVD (I don’t want to hear it) and we went into the sale, where the first thing I noticed is that the deals were not as great as Mackers had gotten for me in the past. This was my first time actually going to this sale. Usually, I give her a list and she does what she can (it’s samples remember, not a regular store sale), and she brings me awesome things and I give her small amounts of money. I was not finding those deals, and I wondered if those were employee-only deals that were only seen at the employee sale the day before. Nevertheless, I did some shopping and found two dresses and a shirt, and these things were marked down significantly, so I was not unhappy.

Pretty soon, Mackers texted me that she needed to run out to her car and could I meet her in the employee lot so we could chat for a few minutes and she could get a peek at The Boy? I was like, yeah! I just checked out, but I don’t know where the employee lot is. She asks, well, where are you right now?

Me: I’m in the lot across the street from the building.

Mackers:….There is no parking lot across the street from the building.

Me: Well, I’m standing in a parking lot, looking at a building, and the sign has all of your brands on it.

Mackers: And what is this building called?

Me: It’s called “City Brands Store”.

Mackers: Where ARE you? That is not my company’s headquarters.

Me: I don’t know! Google Maps took me here. I was kind of wondering where all the crowds were.

Mackers: I’m coming to get you; you’re downtown somewhere. How you got there I do not know. But I will bring you to where the rest of us are.

And she did. She came and led me across town to a much larger sale, and was like “Here, dumbass. Now you can shop.” And I was like “I really am a dumbass. Thank you.”

So, I parked again and got The Boy all situated AGAIN and we trundled to the very large tent sale that had blaring music and a lot of people. And we got to the entrance and the security guard said “You have to leave your stroller.” Uh, what? So he repeated “You have to leave your stroller” and he gestured to seven or eight other parked strollers. So, I got The Boy out of the stroller and said “Hey buddy, you want to walk for a bit?” And that’s when The Boy lost. his. mind. He was all done with this bullshit. Full on, screaming, hitting, no way no how am I going in that tent, you can just go to hell, put me back in the stroller with my snacks and my drink and my movie because I am OVER THIS MESS.

There was really nothing to be done, so I said “Ok, bud. No more shopping. I got the message. We’re going to Grandma’s.” Then I packed him up and we drove to my parent’s house, which was about 30 minutes away. No huge deals for me, but as I told Mackers, I’m counting this as the trial run. Next year I’ll know where the sale is, and I’ll know it is definitely not a kid friendly event.

And The Boy had a wonderful time at Grandma and Grandpa’s house, so his day turned around. All’s well that ends with a non-screaming baby.

 

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Jan 24 2011

Vignettes.

Published by under Friends,Pets,Snippets,The Fam,The Man

(UPDATED! Originally, this post was one conversation [the hole-punch one] but then I thought of another one and then I decided to just keep adding on as I thought of them. So, this post might be different depending on when you first read it.)

No. 1

The Man is using my one-hole punch to punch holes in the corners of index cards, so that he may put them on a ring. He is Way Too Organized. I’m reading blogs.

The Man: (jiggling the hole-punch) I think I broke this.

Me: What?

The Man: (demonstrating that the hole-punch does not squeeze properly anymore) It’s broken.

Me: You broke my hole-punch!

The Man: Well, I didn’t mean to!

Me: You know what’s funny about this? I use that hole punch to punch holes out of FABRIC, and it works just fine. You use it for its intended purpose, and you break it.

The Man: I use things too aggressively.

My husband, the Aggressive Hole Puncher.

(On a side note, how many other former cheerleaders learned to spell “aggressive” from that one cheer? You know: “Be. Aggressive. B-E aggressive. B-E-A-G-G-R-E-S-S-I-V-E.” I was only a Middle School Cheerleader, but I think it was worth it just to learn how to spell that one word.)

No.2

A bunch of us are sitting around my father-in-law’s house. I’m sitting on the couch with one of my sisters-in-law, and two of her kids are hanging around, too. My two-year-old niece comes in the room and I notice she is wearing fleece pajama pants.

Me: Aw, look at her little Ugly Pants!

Bert (four-year-old nephew): Those are NOT ugly pants!

Me: Oh, well, that’s just what your uncle and I call our pajama pants, whether they are ugly or not. All pajama pants are Ugly Pants.

Bert: Those pants are NOT ugly!

Me: I know that -

Bert: YOUR pants are ugly.

Me: OK, then.

Bert: (going back to his Lincoln Logs and muttering) Ugly…

For the record, I was wearing jeans.

No. 3

We’re talking about the “Dangerous Cold Warning” that my mother-in-law’s area apparently received from the National Weather Service.

The Man: What makes it “dangerous” cold?

Me: I don’t know. I guess it’s really, really cold.

The Man: But, it’s winter.

Me: I know.

The Man: LOOK OUT. IT’S COLD. ALSO, JANUARY.

No. 4

The Man and I stopped in to Julio’s on our way to Grandma’s this past Sunday. I was dropping off a lip balm and a Babies R Us coupon book. Julio has a Chihuahua/demon mix dog that has a really loud yapper, and her brand new baby had just fallen asleep, so she picked up the dog and held it while we talked to minimize the yapping. It’s probably worth noting that Julio has mentioned several times that she’s having a hard time establishing a routine with the baby, and her nerves might be a little frayed.

Me: OK, let me know if you like the lip balm. You’re not allergic to anything are you?

Julio: Like…what?

Me: I don’t know. There are no chemicals or anything in it. It’s all natural stuff. Like beeswax or shea butter or anything.

Julio: Tell you what, if I look like Angelina Jolie in a couple days, we’ll know for sure.

Me: Sounds good. Oh, and that coupon book also has some sale things in the back that I couldn’t really get all the details for, because for some reason they have to seal it up like the damn SAT exam…

Julio: I know! What do they think is going to happen if – (she stops talking and looks at her dog, who she is holding over her shoulder, while patting it on the back). I’M BURPING MY DOG.

Me: Is it working?

Julio: Oh my God, I’m going insane.  The other day I was sitting in a chair, not holding anything, and I realized I was trying to rock the baby to sleep. So, I was just rocking myself back and forth.

Me: Wow.

Julio: Next time I’m grocery shopping I’ll probably try to burp a frozen turkey.

No. 5

The ongoing struggles of living with a brain-damaged cat…Please be aware that the following scene takes place every. single. day. Also, that the whole thing creates in me a slowly growing feeling of suspense that really stresses me out.

I’m sitting on one end of the couch. Fate (the normal cat) is on the other end. Between us is a WIDE OPEN EXPANSE of sofa. Destiny (the brain-damaged cat) likes to nap with Fate during the day because they keep each other warm.

Destiny approaches the couch. She puts her front paws up on the cushions and looks at the empty space.

She doesn’t like what she sees.

She drops back to the floor and does a lap around the coffee table.

She puts her front paws up on the cushions and looks at the empty space.

She doesn’t like what she sees.

She drops back to the floor and does a lap around the coffee table.

Repeat anywhere between 5 and 15 times, depending on how tolerant I’m feeling that day.

As she rounds the coffee table, I bend down and pick her up and put her on the couch.

She freezes, acting like I’ve just placed her into a lake of lava.

She jumps down and does a lap around the coffee table.

She puts her front paws up on the cushions and looks at the empty space.

She doesn’t like what she sees.

She drops back to the floor and does a lap around the coffee table.

Me: ARRRRRRRRGH!

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Nov 17 2010

Just in time for holiday shopping.

Published by under Friends,Snippets,Stupidity

From our IM chat today…

Mackers: I’m really trying to do a lot with these phots.

Mackers: Phots?

Me: PHOTS!

Mackers: Phot Bots!

Me: Now with laser action!

Me: It sounds like…some kind of building set.

Mackers: It does! Phots! It interconnects! It snaps together! And if you order now…

Me: You will also receive ZERM!

Mackers: That sounds wrong.

Me: Sounds like a cheap-ass scooter to me.

Mackers: Yes.

Me: We stuck a skate to a 2×4! It’s ZERM!

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Aug 24 2010

Danish Festival 2010

Published by under Friends,Stupidity,Work

So…Mackers and I went to Danish Festival this year. Not for the beer tents, or the aebleskivers, but because we had signed up and paid cash money to be vendors. Yes, it’s true, we paid money to sit under a canopy for eight hours a day and try to sell things to people who have no money. Because, did you know? People in Michigan are POOR.

All in all, it didn’t go too badly. We both made back what we paid for the booth, and then some. It just didn’t go as SUPER MEGA AWESOME as we wanted it to, and to be honest, I think we would have sold just as much at a small craft show. So, that’s what we’ve decided to do from now on: small craft shows where the booth fees are reasonable and we don’t have to bring a tent and sit outside.

One of the hazards of sitting outside is the weather. Sure, no one wants it to rain, but when it’s bright and sunny it’s really no picnic either. You have some shade while the sun is in the right position, but at some point in the day, you’re going to fry. We got lucky in that it didn’t really rain until the end of the last day, when we were packing up. And then it also didn’t rain. Or, I should say, it didn’t just rain. It downpoured. Torrentially. Luckily, we had all of the product in weatherproof plastic totes by the time the rain hit, but we still had to pack the truck in the downpour. All three of us (Princess Precocious, Macker’s daughter, was there to help) were soaked to the skin within 45 seconds.

We had too much stuff to make one trip back to Macker’s house, so it was decided that Princess P. and I would take one load, drop everything in the glassed-in front porch, and come back to take down the tent, load up the rest, and pick up Mackers. That plan should have gone off without a hitch, except that as I was getting out of the truck to help Princess P. unload, I locked the doors. With my purse and phone inside. And the truck was running.

I now had no phone. Princess P. had no phone. Mackers doesn’t have a land line in her house. I tried to jimmy the lock with a wire hanger, and though I could get through the window and TOUCH the lock button, there wasn’t enough leverage to push the button. After 20 minutes of trying, I sent Princess P. on her bike (it’s STILL downpouring at this point) to her friend’s to use her phone – to call Mackers and tell her what was going on, and have her call AAA. Ten minutes later, Princess P. pulls back in. Her friend was not home. The retired cop next door is not home. No one is home; they’re all at the beer tent or trying to buy a kringle before the kringle guy goes home. So, Princess P. volunteers to bike herself back uptown (in the driving rain) to update her mom. While she’s gone, I keep working at the lock, I guess hoping that some helpful leprechaun will materialize inside the truck and push the unlock button for me. Several sometimes later, Princess P. returns with the keys to her mom’s car. As soon as she pulls in the driveway, it stops raining. NICE TIMING, WEATHER.

We leave the locked truck running in the driveway and take off in Macker’s car to pick her up. We cram the last bit of stuff in the car, shove Princess P. in the back seat, and I drive back to the house while Mackers walks, for reasons best known to her. I volunteered to cram her into the car as well, but she said walking was a better option. I think she wanted the extra time to curse my name and my lack of brain. Not that I can blame her for that. She also promises to call AAA on the way back and send them over.

We get back to the house, and the truck is still in the driveway, running. No leprechaun. I go back to work on the lock, but after about five minutes, I hear someone holler “Hey, need help?” from across the street. I look up, and there’s a dude in a tow truck, who is coming over. He says, “Cord called and said his sister needed some help.” Cord is Macker’s brother, and as I found out later, called his buddy after AAA refused to deal with Mackers.

This friendly cuss had my door open in five minutes flat. “My hero!” I cheered. Pretty soon, Mackers came walking up, and seemed very happy that the door was open and I wouldn’t be sitting in her driveway for a few hours while we found someone to open the lock. However, at this point, I was ready to go back to my mom’s house and dry off. I was done with rain, being wet, stupid vehicles that don’t have leprechauns inside of them, and my own stupidity. I stayed to wrap up a few more details (like counting money and singing “Prince Ali Ababwa” to Princess P.) and then I went to mom’s, took a shower, and collapsed.

No more Danish Festival. Unless it’s for the beer tents.

 

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May 31 2010

Memorial Weekend

Let’s see, what’s new?  Oh, I know!  I may or may not have broken a bone in my finger.  Last week, The Man and I were working on getting a gate installed, so that eventually I can just open a gate and walk into my berry patch instead of disconnecting a section of fence and crawling under the netting.  So, I’m holding a post, and he’s got the fence-post rammer in ramming position.  And then he brought the rammer down, the post slipped into an old hole that we weren’t planning on using, and my finger got squished between the gate and the post, or the gate and the rammer, or the gate and God’s Angry Hand Of Vengeance.  Whatever happened, the outcome was not good for my finger, which would no longer bend and the second knuckle and was swelling alarmingly.  I went to the doctor the next day (because this happened at around 6 PM) and got some X-rays done, and was told by the X-ray dude that it might take 2-3 days for the films to be processed and for anyone to get back to me.  So, I waited two days, and on Friday, after hearing nothing, I called my doctor only to find that his whole office had shut down for the holiday weekend.  I guess I’ll call them tomorrow.  This must be that outstanding American health care system that everyone is so adamant that we never change.

So, this weekend we ran around a lot.  The Man went to a minor-league baseball game on Friday night, and I did not.  On Saturday, we went to a birthday party for D– and C–’s daughter, who is now 16 years old.  On Sunday, we went to church, then Grandma’s, and then to The Man’s dad’s house.  And today, we worked and worked, mostly at getting the pool up and some water in it.  Filling the pool is a 3 – 4 day process, because instead of paying someone to bring us a whole lot of water, like sane people, we use a hose.  The Man also mulched around the dwarf cherry bushes, and I mostly stood around and stared, because having a gimpy finger makes it hard to pull weeds and stuff.  Setting up the pool was a real blast, too.

The other thing I accomplished this last week was getting a web site up for my “business”.  If you are interested in seeing what I’m up to in that line, check out aftertwelveonline.com.

Annnd…the kitchen ceiling just started to leak.  Joy.  Must go.  Must get a bucket.

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