My feet are bloody stumps. Labels: Shopping, The Roo-girl
That's because I spent Monday from 10 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. doing something that gives me the head-shakes.
S.H.O.P.P.I.N.G.
Now, I do like shopping. Really. I do. I swear.
But I do draw the line at six-hour-plus marathons at the mall with my daughter and my friend J and her daughter (and Roo's friend) A.
We have shopped marathonishly before. And that time, we literally had to buy shoes because all of us had rubbed our feet raw in the shoes we were wearing. (Oh, sure, we could have just gone home -- killjoy!)
Anyway.
So yeah. I should tell you that Roo has been on a mission. We have made at least two previous -- highly unsuccessful -- expeditions to other area malls with no luck.
She has been on the hunt for a dress. Oh but puh-lease. Not just any dress.
THE dress.
The dress for the eighth-grade graduation dance.
She has a definite vision in mind. She does not want to wear black. She does not want to wear white. She, in fact, wants a brightly colored dress. Not floor-length (FLOOR LENGTH?????). Not as long as to the knees -- after all she does have her dignity and reputation to think of.
You know the dress I mean. The perfect one.
The one that exists only in her vivid imagination.
And makes my eyes roll violently around in their sockets.
First, you need to understand that this very important graduation dance is exactly 1 1/2 hours long. Period.
AND I recently bought her a party dress for A's bat mitzvah next month. A goes to a different middle school, is in the seventh grade, has few to no mutual friends with Roo and not a single one of those kids would be at Roo's dance.
Anyone else see a problem here? Anyone else see a problem with the sobbing teen I drove home from the previous mall excursions because the perfect dress from her imagination does. not. exist?
Ah yes. Moving on.
So J, always one for a shopping excursion, suggested that we go looking for Roo's dress together ... at yet a THIRD mall.
Six and a half hours later, we were home.
We had a pair of Abercrombie shorts and a denim skirt. (On sale, please. I NEVER pay full price at Abercrombie -- it's against my religion.)
We had two new bras.
We had some Lancome makeup and an accompanying free tote (compliments of J, for Roo-girl's graduation).
We had a yellow zebra-print top. (Please don't ask.)
We had one pair of underwear (which happened to be in the high school's colors).
And.
We had a dress.
Thank the Lord. There now is a dress for the 90-minute graduation dance.
It's short enough (but not so short that I get the gags).
It's colorful enough (hot pink).
It gives her a shape (please hold me).
I am a slightly poorer mommy.
But Monday, we had success. She did not cry. There was lots of fun and laughter.
She is a happy Roo-girl.
And isn't that what friends are for?
Labels: Fun Monday
Alison at RDH Mom is our charming travel-agent-slash-hostess for Fun Monday today.
She wants to know about other lands -- or at least other counties (yes, counties, not countries), because this is her challenge for us today:Vacations...this is the time of year when most of us go on vacations. Show us and/or tell us about your favorite vacation - where you went, what you did, etc. Pictures would be great. Let's all take a trip around the world via our FM friends!!
Well, she said, well.
I really have two things to offer here.
The first was for my parents' 55th anniversary. We took a phenomenal trip to Hawaii -- 19 of us. All children, spouses and grandchildren, except for grandson who was still in school and couldn't make it.
It was a most amazing time, filled with memories of sun, surf, good food and the renewing of my parents' wedding vows.
Wow.
Here we are, all dressed alike in our Hawaii Five-5 shirts and hats. (Get it? Book 'em, Danno!) You will see faces you recognize and some semi-identical blobs. I didn't want to post photos of my sibs and kids without their permission, and since they do not (and WILL not) know about my blog ... well. You know.
That vacation was truly cool and wonderful and relaxing, even. But the one that rocked my world was last spring, when I went to Japan.
Wonderhubby and I went with a big group and, yes, I'm being deliberately vague. It was 10 days of exploration, excitement and entertainment, with stays in Tokyo, Kyoto and the mineral springs at Hakone.
We did many amazing things, but one of the most fun was being turned into a geisha.
Watch the transformation ...
The finishing touches involved a "formal" photo session:
And there we are. From sweet little American girl to geisha on the streets of Kyoto, in 45 minutes!
Now go see where the other Fun Monday'ers are taking us. Bon voyage, y'all!
Labels: Weekly Winners
Blender bonding:
Aren't they cute together?
An oxymoron, doncha think?
Feel my pain. And the day after I took this shot, it went up another 10 cents. No lie.
Birthday cake (so we don't end on a downer):
For other Weekly Winners participants, go here.
Don't bother me. I'm busy making out with my phone. Labels: interplanetary janet
Labels: Haiku Friday
I'm a happy girl.
So very happy happy!
Look what came today ...
Yes, I hinted at this here, but it was a looooooooong time actually getting the real deal in my hands.
First, I had to convince Wonderhubby that this, indeed, was my heart's desire for Mother's Day.
Then, we had to find one.
It seems that a new fancy-shmancy version is coming (with more bells and whistles than I require), so the Apple stores have conveniently ceased to have the "old" ones on hand. And the AT&T stores "only" had the bigger, more expensive, not-in-the-budget version.
Unhappiness, thy name is Janet.
Meanwhile, Wonderhubby took off for middle America to attend an elevator installation training school (yes, it had its ups and downs). While he was gone, he found the phone at an Apple store in the Midwest, where apparently the demand hasn't been nearly as strong.
Also while he was gone, I found it online at the wireless carrier store with free two-day shipping, and we agreed I should go ahead and order it, rather than WH worrying about transporting it home on airplanes and such.
And so I made it so.
AT&T, in its infinite wisdom, slightly neglected to actually SHIP the damned thing for ... wait for it ... a week!
So I waited.
And tracked it by website and email.
And waited.
And watched while they sent it in one direction and then in another completely opposite way.
And waited.
And tracked its very, very slow progress across my fair city.
And yesterday?
IT FINALLY CAME!!!
I have been petting it ever since.
Oh lordy ... my boys. Labels: family crazies
I have no words.
*edited to add: Ok I just reread this post, and I think I should stop blaming my boys. My participation in this is NOT pristine!!!*
Saturday night we went out to dinner to celebrate J-bear's birthday. Z-man is home from college for the summer, and I should know what the combination of Z and the Drama King would bring.
Drummer was missing. He and the lovely girlfriend were going to a concert. That, of course, made him the prime target of brotherly -- uh -- love. Rocky was also MIA, having left town for a family wedding.
However, we had picked up a stray for dinner. One of J-bear's girlfriends from work. Poor, poor dear. She had no idea what she was getting into.
Evil Mother: It's too bad Drummer Man isn't going to be here.
Z-man: Oh, he's not?
Evil Mother: No.
*instant commencement of imitations (not the sincerest form of flattery in this case) of D Man's not-so-stellar moments*
Evil Mother: Poor J-friend. You didn't know what you were getting into, did you? You guys are really MEAN! Drummer Man is the perfect straight man.
Drama King: So ... that makes me the GAY MAN ... hello?????
*unison bwahahahaha'ing*
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Drama King: I don't remember what side dish I wanted.
Evil Mother: *very very very quietly* Corn?
Drama King: Oh, yeah. That's right. Co-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-orn ... Bring LOTS of butter, please!
Evil Mother: When is Rocky coming home again???
I must admit that in my head, I am still 8 years old, with glasses and braces at the same time. Labels: Freaking out, interplanetary janet
Even as a mature (*snort*) woman with grown children, I look in the mirror and I still see the me that geeked her way through elementary school and most of high school.
Admittedly, I came into my own in college, and I have since learned to be more (although sometimes it's less) comfortable in my own skin.
But I was a goober.
Pale and freckle-faced. Unmanageable hair (not quite curly, not quite wavy, usually with the little halo of frizz visible in the sunlight).
Severe overbite (leading to nearly four years of braces).
Scrawny (at least 10 to 15 pounds behind my peers).
Glasses. You know the kind. The hideous cat-eye things. I had a pair in pink and a pair in blue. *shudder*
Short -- although the ONE TIME that short was supposed to be my advantage (playing Madeline in the third-grade play), I came up a quarter-inch too tall, and some other short girl beat me out for the part.
Put me in a room full of strangers and that 8-year-old with the glasses and braces peeks out. I have learned to push her aside and replace her with the "behave as if" version of a confident, witty, sarcastic, reasonably charming woman.
But sometimes ...
I actually have a name for this syndrome of mine. I can't use it on the internet, because it actually is the real name of a real person who tormented me by her mere presence in junior high and high school. So for the sake of her anonymity (yes, I googled her before I started writing this!), I will call it the Sally Smith syndrome.
(If your name is really Sally Smith, I apologize for maligning you. But at least your name isn't really Sarah Marshall and you had to face those bus signs and billboards every day!)
I know you will know the girl I'm talking about. I think we all must have had one in our lives -- unless, of course, YOU were the Sally Smith in your world.
So, my Sally Smith was a girl who started out drop-dead gorgeous while the rest of us were geeking out. She had long, blond perfect hair. She had chiseled perfect features, a perfect perky nose and perfect blue eyes. She had that perfect sexy head toss to move those luxurious flowing locks off of her face (and the correlating head duck to bring them back).
And if she looked at you, you were immediately transformed into a cockroach that she squished under her perfect shoe.
She tormented me -- either in fact or in my head -- throughout my pre-adolescent and adolescent years.
And occasionally she comes back to haunt me in my old age.
She was back with a vengeance last week.
I found myself in the vortex of my worst nightmare -- at the parents meeting for the high school cheerleading team.
Sixty-five versions of Ms. Smith -- lean, beautiful, perky, mostly blond incarnations of my high school tormentress -- bounced around the room, while parents filled out paperwork and wrote a check that could support some third-world nations for years.
And yes, for the record, I count my own daughter among the Sally Smiths of the world. Not because she has that nasty bug-crushing habit -- because she doesn't -- but because she totally fits the physical stereotype of cheerleader.
Only shorter.
I don't know where she came from, my little girl. Correction: I mean, my young lady. She is graceful (where I am decidedly NOT). She has the blond, straight hair of my dreams (see above for description of my childhood hair). She has large, clear blue-green eyes that pop right out of her face.
You've all seen her picture ...
She is Sally Smith, birthed from my loins and living in my house.
Anyway, there I sat.
Surrounded.
But I will say that I got a certain amount of jollies by looking at the parents of these little Sallies.
Some were grownup versions of their daughters -- cheer moms with perfect hair, hard bodies and (ahem) a little too much "work" done.
And some were just like me.
Embracing their inner geek and living a little vicariously through their Sally Smith'ish daughters.
