Foul I To the Fountain Fly

I am wrapping soap and having a decent time with it. I am supposed to get on that treadmill and run but I am running away from it right now. I am a bit tired. I took the kids to the mall today to get Dear Sir a replacement sweater for the favorite sweater I ruined last night by one push in the dryer. He tried the thing on and it was considerably smaller and just "not right". I immediately called the Polo Outlet store and asked if they had a replacement. They did. I had them put the thing on hold and so I high tailed my behind over there this morning. Walking around the mall and telling kids to "stand here" for ever and a day is not my idea of amusement. I stood in line at the Polo store waiting for the lady to return a billion hot pink polo shirts. Then the cashier got on the phone and ticked away at his computer and I stood there waiting while a kid wandered a little over here and another wandered over there and pretty soon I would be calling this kid's name or that kids name (or every kid the wrong name) and giving the evil stare. The evil stare never works even though I tell myself when I am doing it that I look intimidating.

I can jerk my hand in a quick motion pointing to the empty space beside me but it is not heeded. I can purse my lips and clench my jaw and even my fist but that does not help. I am stuck. In line. The dope behind me will think I left my place and say, "Sorry chick."

So, I stand in my little plot and pray for the child to make eye contact so I can lure them over with SOMETHING. I just get tired of speaking. You know what I mean, moms? Speaking is just something I wish I never had to do. I repeat the same thing over and over and it is never heard. "Stop talking. I said, stop talking. Please be quiet. Be Quiet. SHUT YOUR MOUTHS FOR THE LOVE OF PETE!"

I understand how Jesus felt when he would say to the people, "Listen to me!" or "I am telling you the truth!" Try to count how many times He said that stuff. Tons. This is our human condition. We do not listen. We do not hear. We do not care. It is very interesting to me that we are told in these times to be attentive because no one knows when Jesus will be coming again. Being attentive is just not something we NATURALLY do. Look at my kids. I don't teach them to be UNattentive. Nope.

So, I got the sweater, all was well and we went to the bookstore. I thought of getting some coffee but decided against it because I did not want to stand in another line and bear the torture of THAT again.

Last night I was sort of in a foul mood (this was BEFORE I realized my major blunder in shrinking the sweater) because I let the kids get to me when I should have just been cool about stuff. I was in a hurry or something, I can't quite remember, and I opened the door to go to the bathroom and slammed the door and my index finger with it. Believe me, other words came to my mind as I yelped in pain but a thunderous "CRAP!!!" was all that came out. Dear Sir was right outside the door on the computer and as I sat there in the bathroom nursing my wound I thought how he must think I died. I walked out and acted like nothing happened and he didn't even turn his head. He must be used to this animal house sort of feel we have, I guess.

Well, I have truffles and whatnot to make and maybe when some are finished I will take a weak little picture. I can't take pictures very well. I don't know what the deal is. Some people say don't flash and get where there is natural light, but I just have no clue what that even means. So, I will continue to take dopey pictures and you will have to like it. No one can be good at everything, right? I don't need to be good at taking pictures if I can make soap and melt chocolate. That is good enough, eh?


Anonymous said...

while it is merely a slight technicality, no self-respecting gangster such as The Oldest would EVER say 'homey'. Ya dig, homie? Homey is what dull looking girls are. Homie is your slang for dude, which is slang for you, which is short for a name....

R said...

You are so up to the relevant hype. I was going back to the early nineties archives and referring to 'In Living Color' where Jim Carey got his start and the Wayans brother played "Homey the Clown."

Hey, I am not dull looking! I am old fogey though, so that is totally cool.

Thanks for the heads up on my "behindness".

Badoozie said...

eh.......thats right folks...how is that finger? is it broken?

so your hubbs didn't even notice your distress? is he DEAF.
i agree about kids..i wish i didn't have to talk to mine. but he will NOT shut up, no matter what i say.

Joel said...

No, I'm not deaf. Yes, I do read comments.

R said...

Susie! Ha ha! The way things work when I get hurt and I enflame in anger is that Dear Sir stays AWAY from me so I don't pummel him! I think for about five years there he would try to console me when I have wounded myself countless times on the corner of a cupboard or at the edge of a knife and I have always barked back that I didn't want to talk about it.

Almost nine years later........he knows how I work and doesn't want to enter the dungeon with the screaming freak with blood everywhere unless she approaches him first and tells him that she has seriously harmed herself and she needs him to take her to the hospital.

The finger is fine. I bounce back quickly.

I think the motor mouth is an evil gift given upon turning nine.

Joel---I didn't know you even read this thing. Sheesh.

Anonymous said...

I can use soap and eat chocolate... That's a good thing, right? The evil stare only works with children that are not your own. Didn't you receive the memo? I thought I had it bad because Bennie reads my blog... Then I see that yours makes comments! *Ack*

Badoozie said...


Funky-Redhead said...

I do all that crazy stuff in line plus I snap! Can you believe that?
My mother did that! And I look just ridiculous, but just can't help myself!

R said...

I don't snap. I should snap, but I look insane enough already.