Happy Baby pose.

So for those of you that have never done Yoga it is an ancient art that mixes breathing and stretching and strength training. The names of the poses come from different parts of nature. For example, tree pose is accomplished by standing on one foot with the other pushed up against your other leg all while balancing and keep complete balance and calm. It is said that you are like a tree... strong and balanced even in the worst of the storm. At the end of most every long hold of any stretch or muscle strengthener you are asked to go into happy baby pose. This is accomplished by lying on your back holding the bottom of your feet and rocking side to side. This massages the back muscles and loosens tension. Above you will see a picture of my cousin as exhibit A.
Namaste. My inner peace meets your inner peace.

a present for papa...

Can you say it with me? PERFECT!

So Christmas this year was a hoot. My lovely Aunt Debbie, the aforementioned one that is technologically challenged has three small children under 4. Wow. Another one going to straight to heaven. So we were supposed to all meet at Nana and Papa's just like we always do. We let her choose the time- 11am. OK... So noon rolls around and they aren't there but suddenly we hear the van squeal up (what can I say...it needs a little tune up. but who has the time?) I open the door thinking I am going to see my little lollipop guild waiting with slobbery kisses for me but Nope, just my aunt, the baby and my uncle looking a little frazzled to say the least. Where are the girls I asked? Asleep in the van. They aren't coming in, he is taking them home. hmm... OK....So after he leaves with the two older kiddos she proceeds to tell me the story. First, the 4 y/o decided that she did not want to be a human this week. She was going to be an animal so at church she sat beside her Dad going "MEOW....MEOW...MEOW" He nonchalantly told her that cats are not allowed in church so she was quiet for about 30 seconds and turned, looked at him and said "MOO...MOO....MOO" needless to say they spend the rest of Mass in the narthex. Then, Santa decided that it would be a good idea for the girls to express their creativity through painting and brought the 4 and 3 y/o girls and easel and paint set with two sides and a mat that covered the floor. Turns out you need a paint tarp to stop the mess that they made. They painted the easel, the carpet, They painted the bathroom counters and the windows sills and then stepped in the remnants and painted the floor. They also painted their brother on three separate occasions resulting in three separate visits to the bathtub. HO HO HO as they say. Perhaps Mommy and Daddy need to include a list of "no-no toys and crafts" for Santa with the kids wish lists for next year....So this is the picture I got with the remaining child left at Christmas lunch. My aunt's not in the picture, she is on the couch wrapped up in my Snuggie. Bless her Heart.

DO NOT BUY THIS PRODUCT.

http://www.hairproductstogo.com/images/ByFram/byf%20masque.JPG


So, whenever possible I try to be Eco-friendly. Therefore I decided to branch out in my hair product world and buy this "masque for color treated hair" It claims to be a "unique formulation of rich proteins and vitamins that restructure and rebuild color treated hair" This product is organic and never tested on animals. Even their packaging is recyclable. What they failed to mention is that it smells like armour all with a hint of Windex. Barf. These are smells I never ever want to get a whiff of while in the shower. I only want to wash these smells OFF of me.
Here are a few of the ingredients mentioned on the back of the package: lupin amino acids, hydrolyzed wheat protein, barley protein, hydrolyzed wheat starch, parfum (LIARS), mica, and titanium oxide. SWEET- just what I wanted my hair to smell like....wheat, metal and barley. delicious. Note to the MAN who obviously designed this product: Us women don't want to smell like that, and we don't want you to either.
So, sorry Mother Earth, don't mean to hurt your feelings, but I'm going back to the bad for you, good for my nose products. No offense my dear planet, but I'd rather smell like Lilies of the Valley.
love and organic kisses.
Cbass.

In her shoes for a lunch break...

So today I had a very interesting conversation. My friend, Mel is a lovely lovely woman, she really is. Her husband is a pastor and she is a crisis counselor by trade, but has given up her career to become a stay at home Mom and homeschool her young children. She came to have lunch with me and some of my coworkers and her cell phone rang twice. Once was her son, #1-her son calling "No honey, you cannot watch TV. Have you listened to your audio book? Oh ok, well go practive your cursive Y's yes...you do have to... sorry honey. No! no TV until you have done your Y's." #2 her husband calling- "No honey, he cannot get on LEGO.com until he has practiced his cursive Y's." She hangs up. Rolls eyes. "You would think I am torturing him, making him learn handwriting." response from the peanut gallery (aka my fabulous secretary with humor for days): "Telling you are teaching him to read and write, not read and type."Mel: "You know... that boy makes me laugh, everyday, it never fails. Today, I told him to go get dressed. He came out wearing a fedora. What's a Mom to do?"Mel: "So, some new neighbor kids that moved in that always want to hang out with my kids. Well, I had to lay some boundaries down with them. I have to have a structured household. Yesterday we were outside raking leaves and one of new neighbor boys tapped me on the shoulder while I was using the blower... about scared me to death. He then proceeded to say "Miss Mel...see, my brother's using the bathroom, and...well, can we borrow a roll of toilet paper?" I just sent my son inside for a roll and told him he could have it." God Bless her. Straight to heaven I tell you.

BFF and F and F and F....

A southern ladies friendship is like nuclear warfare. Now hear me out.. I know that is a bold statement, but think about it. Nuclear warfare between foreign nations remains peaceful because they keep eachother at bay. You don't blow us up and we will do the same. Well.... that is how a real friendship is. You have so much dirt on that girl sitting across from you at brunch that you could rock her world. But you know the same is true for you. So you keep her secrets, both because you love her more than words could say, but you also don't want to admit that you actually wore that atrocious outfit in college or dated that loser or danced on a chair or... the list goes on for miles. So you just giggle together and share the insanely funny stories that only you can all laugh at. Plus who would beleive them anyway? Noone actually slept on the doormat with a can of mace...or did they? A lady never tells...

Go Jackets! Bust their a$$

So, I did it. I, the stanch Georgia Tech fan that I am took my friend to the SEC game he wanted to go to. It's true.. I took him to the (looking around and whispering...) UGA game. To make matters worse I dragged my besties with me. Both of them are Tech fans. We sat around in red and black chairs under red and black tents drinking out of red and black koozies. (oh the horror...) We all had a pretty good time, but would huddle together singing the contraband fight song from the other side of the tailgate in our private circle when it all got to be a little much for us. We tried to enjoy ourselves, but ironically enough the pests at the tailgate kept buzzing around. go figure... Yellow Jackets. Guess they were there to remind us of our allegiance. Yeah yeah... we know... Go Jackets....sting em'!

Fears

Everyone has their foibles, right? (that just happens to be one of my very favorite words, I remember learning it in the 5th grade and have had a deep appreciation for it ever since.) ok... Off that rant... One of mine is a completely irrational fear of revolving doors. I will goto every legnth to avoid them. I am a beleiver in scooting in the handicapped door. Yeah yeah... I know... They are Eco-friendly, the "green" of doors because they keep all energy in and let a minimal amount of heat/ air out into the atmosphere. Not to mention would render the "were you raised in a barn" question pointless as a revolving door can never be left open. Yet still my inner childs freaks the F out every time I even toy with the thought of sliding myself into one. I guess being the friend who has to suffer mild humiliation and step aside and go through the "normal" door is bearable considering heart palpitations and breaking out in hives is the alternative...

everyone needs a little perspective...

It is amazing what a little dose of perspective has to offer. A "mile walk in someone else's shoes" so to speak. yesterday was not a good day. One of those that just starts off wrong, ya know? Grouchy. Late. hungry, no good food in the pantry. Work was a B!+*h- reports and stats and UGH!! I burned dinner, I slammed my foot in the door because my dog tried to run out. I even realized when putting on my Pjs that I had worn my undies inside out all day. I felt lonely and defeated. Then, the next day I went and visited my friend who was at the hospital with her daughter. The moment I sat down I realized how ungrateful I am. Here is a beautiful young woman who is spending the better part of a summer month in a hospital bed fighting an incurable disease. Her mother, my very dear friend, spends night after night on a pull out hospital bed in the room to be there for her daughter. Funny how my day just didn't seem so bad after all. PERSPECTIVE.

So the next time that you are complaining about the sweltering heat in Augusta maybe we could just throw a little bit of that energy we are using up to complain to maybe think about our troops who are in Iraq to keep us safe in full gear in the 120 degree heat away from their families and friends. PERSPECTIVE.

Perhaps the next time we see a homeless person in the street we can think about how fortunate we are and how many things that we have and can offer to the needy. Think how easily that could be us. These are not easy times. There could be many circumstances in which we find ourselves turned out on the street. PERSPECTIVE.

When we see the commercials on TV with the starving children do not think of them as begging us for money. Picture their mothers and fathers and how they feel that they cannot provide for their babies. Think of your own children or nieces and nephews and what you would do to make sure that they have food in their bellies and clean water to drink. How much do we take vaccinations for granted? These babies are not dying of cancer. They are dying of starvation and dehydration and diarrhea because of unsanitary drinking water. They are not asking for playstations and $150 sneakers. They are asking for rice and water and textbooks and pencils. PERSPECTIVE.

It is amazing what a new light a different perspective gives to things. Think of a kaleidoscope that you played with as a child. Remember how one turn of it would move the colored pieces and the whole design would change. That, my friends, is how a perspective, even one ever so slightly different, can change your view on the world.

Its a Southern thing...

So my friend in California has reminded me of the pride that I have in
the fact that I am from the South. Not because I hate CA or think bad
of it at all, but I realize even more than usual that it is a
privilege to be from GA. Obviously not for our education system, last
time I checked I’m pretty sure we were 48th, but for our traditions
and our stance on not losing them. It is impressive to have a cast
iron frying pan that is been in your family for 5 generations and has
made the cornbread that is used in Thanksgiving’s dressing for the
last 150 years. It is a privilege to wear a wedding dress that has
been handed down from our grandmother even if it isn’t a Vera Wang. A
dress in my family has been worn by 4 members, a baptismal gown has
been worn by three. We are proud for our children to have smocked
penguins across their chest that their Mimi hand stitched and say
certain words with such a thick drawl that people giggle and say “my
goodness, she does have magnolia mouth just like you did when you were
a little girl.” They have enclosure cards with tiny soccer balls or
ballet shoes on them where they “write” their first thank you cards to
the people that attended their first birthday party. They wear
seersucker and knee socks and saddle oxfords (and I mean the boys) and
the girls dress their best for Sunday (pronounced Sun-dee) church and
Sun-dee dinner. We call them Miss Priss and Little Man and we expect
them to use their manners, who cares if they are 3?
They know Emily Post because they think she is coming to dinner each
week, they think their daddies hung the moon and love their creek
(pronounced crick) that runs behind their house that they can go catch
tadpoles in while Mom and Dad work in the garden. They have stopped
and had boiled peanuts at every roadside stand this side of the
mason-Dixon line and know how to eat them without messing up their
traveling clothes. They know their neighbors (and neighbor’s dogs)
names and are welcome to swim in their pool anytime. No one locks
their doors when they are home and they can ride their bikes in the
streets. They have made a lemonade stand in their front yard and made enough money in two hours to buy the electric Barbie jeep they were just dying for. We make cookies all
together as a family on Christmas Adam (the day before Christmas Eve)
and decorate them and get icing all over the walls, and it is doesn’t
matter if you are 6 or 26 because it is a tradition and that means it
will be like that forever, green icing stuck in your pigtail and a
tummy ache from all the batter and all.

so as I sit here at my desk I find myself drifting off into a place that I loving call 'fiesta del summer', which is my magical happy place that only exists when it is warm and sunny and beautiful outside and I am stuck in my windowless office. If i lean in closely enough to my diet coke (while wishing it was a corona) I can hear laughter and jet skis and hear jimmy buffett playing softly in the background. I know, its true. I am a little crazy... but I can think of nothing better than nautical themes and koozies and waking up early only to fall asleep with the sun beaming down on you and the smell of coppertone wafting up your nostrils.

I love to watch the small children in their fishing hats that tie under their chins playing with the dads in the sand and taking it off down the beach only to bust it into a hole they didnt see coming up. I love watching their faces light up when the waves come over their ankles and the look of sheer terror when the waves knock them down only to see them scooped up by their parents before the next one hits. They then spend the next couple of minutes with their bottom lip poked out pointing at the waves and babbling to their parents and then sticking their finger in their mouth and pointing again only to wiggle down their daddys leg to go right back to the spot where the incident occured. I love seeing them build their sandcastle with their 238763036 tools shaped like starfish, sea turtles, crabs, jellyfish, and what seems to be a mermaid. They have 6 shapes and sizes of shovels and 4 buckets. The funny thing is that the small child finds as much fun in running down to the water, attempting to fill the bucket and run back as fast as possible to the to the castle that mommy and daddy have begun building sloshing the water to and fro on the way only to dump the minimal contents onto the perfect rendition of rapunzels tower that daddy has recreated. As lunch/naptime descends the little families begin to mosey back up to their beach houses packing up their seemingly endless supply of toys and floaties. you have the tent, the umbrella, the beach chairs, the bag of sunscreen, the boogie board, the arm floaties in the shape of sponge bob squarepants, the inner tube, the wagon, the shovels, the sea creature shaped sand toys, the play pen, the towels, the beach blanket, the cooler...the list goes on and on... so as I watch them cramming everthing ino the red wagon the hauled down to the beach I realize that it might be more fun to watch than to be a part of.

And just as I was beginning a deep train of thoughts I see a guy in a speedo weenie-bikini aka banana hammock. My friend who has been silently reading her book for the past three hours and left my imagination alone (which is a very dangerous thing when there is so much people watching at my disposal) and says some snarky comment about how hot he looks in his fur coat and his speedo (of course by fur coat she means his discusting display of back hair.) to which all I can reply is "i guess lunch can wait another hour." We watch him romp around in the water and go back to his umbrella shaded beach chair. Oh thank goodness, he is gonna read or listen to music or something. Oh no... he and his family are the "active beach people." You know the type.. bachi ball, frisbee, volley ball, badmitton. These people can't sit still. They cannot be content to tan and read and wade in the water like me, the lazy beach bum type. I think the final straw was when he attempted to skim board and busted it face first. It was just too tragic- I had to look away and choose another set of people to observe. I could take no more...

So here is my deal- I teach a lot of kids, and I mean a LOT. In one month sometimes i will go to three schools and teach every single class in the school. U know what the equation equals out to?? A bunch of names that make me laugh, a bunch of little kid comments that are just precious and a lot of sticky hands and snotty noses (but that is the bad part...)

Here are a few great comments: Upon asking the kids to give me some examples of rules (we are talking prek-5th grade here) #1 "Don't go into a hospital and tell someone ther are dying because they might get sad" #2 "Don't pretend like you forgot to do your chores" #3 "don't drink beer" #4 "Don't beat up baby dolls" (a little wierd...but hey) #5 "Don't put food down your brother's back"

Or when giving them the example of when your ride your bike you wear a ______ (I then point at my head and pause for an answer) and a little 4 year old prek student whose mother was observing yells out "A WIG!!!!!" I thought her mother was going to fall out of her chair and it took me about 5 minutes to regain my and the classes composures!!

I had a few extra minutes after my classes around halloween and asked the kids what they were going to dress up as; I got the normal answers, "Jason" was the most widely used suprisingly....I kinda thought he was outdated, but whatever. Ladybug, cheerleader, teacher (guess you carry some chalk and an apple around), spiderman, chucky, but my personal favorite "I am going to be MARRIED for halloween" I even asked again and they were like Yep, just like my mom and dad.... I would have been very interested in how that costume turned out!

So my favorite names of the month and I am NOT making these up, these kids were in my class, their names were taped to their desks!! #1 Ovarian (pronounced O-va-re-on) #2 Demon (pronounced D-mon) #3 Santanna (yep, like the amazing guitarist- possibly named after with an extra N, didn't ask, but definitely had the rock and roll look going on..) #4 Loreal (yep, like the makeup.) #5 Regional (think they meant reginald?)

My favorite misspellings in the classrooms (and we wonder why this generation can't spell a dang thing...I am probably not the best considering I post without editing most of the time...) On the holiday words board: "snowsmen", "raindeers"

In a Pre-k Class things are labeled everywhere: a few of my favorites a box with little pieces of paper for writing random things down labeled "strap paper" and an old computer labeled "moniter" (that one really isn't that bad, but it is the principle of the thing..)

My favorite tshirts include ones for halloween that said "nothing scares me, I have a little brother" or "I make dirt look good" or "Take a picture it will last longer" or the ever popular "Its all about me" (and we wonder how they ever get the idea that the world revolves around them...)

I also enjoy their bookbags, my favorite will always be the one that is shaped like a yellow hummer and it has wheels on it, so it is dual purpose really... the child won't hurt his/her back while toting around the 3465 lbs of books that they are expected to carry; and it looks like their knapsack is popping a wheelie. win-win if you ask me.

And my favorite of all, which I will post a picture of as soon as I can figure out how to blur out the name of the school had a sign outside, which in their defense could have absolutely been altered said "here at ____ we care about our STDS" (this was meant as an abbreviation of students.) I did tell the administration and it was fixed, but it brought me a lot of laughs.

funny things the little girls in my family said this weekend:

three little girls under 10 sitting around the dining room table eating dinner with me.

(meanwhile Jessica (3) is running in circles around the table singing "Waddle while you walk" and quacking like a duck...)

"My daddy has been working on all kinds of stuff on the house and working on the computer and showing me how to use my digital camera." -abigail (10)

"yeah, our daddy has been doing all kinds of stuff around the house and helping to train the dogs" -Ellie (6)

"my daddy is on a diet" -Isabel (4)

My sister looks me square in the eye, sighed, dropped her peanut butter sandwich, put her head in her hands and said in her most grown up voice said "i miss michael jackson" i almost lost it.

My dad says to 6 y/o ellie. "come over here and take a picture with us and don't throw that Barbie." "i don't want to come over there and I will throw it if I want to" ellie says back. "Don't you do it ellie, that would be an 'extreme act of defiance' and you know what Dr. Mark says about that" Abigail looks at me, rolls her eyes, breathes out loudly and says "therapist." I felt like I was on a sitcom.

"he is a cool little dude" 10 y/o referencing the 10 month old.

driving down the road Isabel asks what all the mess is and her mom says that they are working on the road to make it smooth and she answers "oh...so we can put on our lipstick?"

thoughts...

Is it ironic that my Godson’s name is Christian Holliday? Is it funny that my grandpa secretly reads my In Touch weekly but then can’t help but put his two cents in when we are talking about Jon’s new + 1. ‘She seems like a trashy troublemaker’ he adds into my aunt debbie’s conversation. She looks shocked and I just tell her that he reads my celeb mags with his eggs in the morning. Is it sad that my grandmother stayed up later than me watching the golden girls last night? I just couldn’t hang with nana… I will have to remember to ask her what happened with Blanche after all. Is it bad that I think it is funny when small children tell their parents are mean? They have no idea. I wish my parents would be as mean to me as they are to three year olds. Juice box please!! I heard a statistic yesterday that after age 25 binge drinking decreases steadily each year. Yeah, because after 25 if you binge drink a whole lot, you aren’t a party girl, you’re an alcoholic.

flowers and ribbon and birdseed, OH MY!

Have you ever been surrounded by something? And I mean completely surrounded. Like when your dress is entirely too tight (but spanxmakes it look awesome) or when a group of 32 preschoolers want to give you a bear hug all at the same time?

Well I have had that feeling a few times in my life and they can be a very bittersweet feeling.Oftentimes you love one part and you hate that the other makes you uncomfortable.

You love that you are able to squeeze your size 4 body into that faboo size 2 dress that you paid entirely too much for but you hate that you can only dance one dance before you can barely breathe in. I adore the fact that the kids enjoyed my lesson so much that they want to physically hug me and tell me how great I am and tell me I’m pretty and they like my shoes (why I chose to wear 3 inch heels on a pre-k day escapes me… probably something to do with the only clean laundry I had matched those shoes...) but I hate that when they all push at the same time and I cant help but lean over hoping not to fall and squish 8 out of the 32 with my and the rest of the classes weight.

This feeling can sometimes translate into a broader picture (no pun intended considering one of my examples was spanx) in life. These days, as I am at “that age” where everyone I know is at a point where they are no longer the person I cherish but a “we,” a “them” to me. It is truly surrounding me- the “quicksand of happiness”, if you will. I am SO happy for my friends and I love being in weddings and going with them to choose their colors and taking a peek at the ring that “them” have picked out and tossing around ideas of eloping so their crazy in-laws don’t have to be there, but (here it comes) that bittersweet feeling comes creeping into my bed at night when I am watching cosby show reruns with my dog. All those stupid thoughts go rushing through my (typically) level head. I don’t particularly feel bad about my thoughts, they are always happy thoughts for “them,” but sometimes they make “just me” feel sad. Kinda like when my spanx come off after the big event and it is back to the reality of myself.

There my friends go, one by one pairing off like Noah’s critters and walking down the aisle to the other side of life. And here I am, like one of Cinderella’s mice that got her dressed up and beautiful for that ball only for her to meet Prince Charming and leave them behind. I could only imagine that little "Gus-Gus" was all too happy for“Cinderelly” but couldn’t help but feel a little sadness for himself followed by a twinge of guilt knowing that it was the best thing for his friend.
So here I am feeling a bit like an imaginary mouse. Happy and sad, lonely yet surrounded, jealous but unprepared for such a step in my own life.

This weekend, at a Junior League conference I was surrounded by about 300 married or engaged women who were talking about their families or“better half” and I realized two things. They have someone to check in with and someone to come home to and I, on the other side of the coin, didn’t have to check in with anyone and could walk into my door and be greeted by a creature that would be unshakably, undeniably, unmistakably, happy to see me expecting nothing more that a pat on the head. As I lay sprawled across my entire queen sized bed with my pup eating bon bons and catching up on my people.com I wonder who the lucky one really is.

wally. :)

So it is summertime and I am extremely excited and ready for a much needed vacation, but regardless of my plans I cannot neglect my duties to Papa. So what do I do? I take off two hours early on friday in order to get him to wally before my friend picks me up to head out of town for my (did i mention it was much needed?) beach vaca.
As I am leaving the office I call him and let him know that I am going to swing into the neighborhood, park my car, and hop into his grandpa mobile so that we can make this a quick trip. We were even going to have to change from his usual location (which adds an additional 10 minutes to the drive, but I am not going to deprive a poor man of his love of a certain wal-mart) to one that is more convenient. "I hate the height of their counters" he grumbles under his breath "but Ok, I know you are in a hurry."
So I park on the street and run in to gather papa. He is standing in front of the microwave heating up his tea. "hey Sug" (pronounced like the beginning of sugar for all you non-southerners.) "What up Pop, you ready?" I say as I slip off my high heels and into my comfy flops. "You aren't wearing those things are you? Looks like you grew up in the bad part of the trailer park." I hear Nana laugh from the other room and she walks in. "Hi darling" she says in her sweet spanish accent. "Nana, are they that bad?" She crinkles her nose in a way that I knew she was saying yes but squeezed a "nooo not that bad" lie out. Ughhhh. "Too bad! I am wearing them. And I am in a HURRY!" I say.
"well, if i knew you were gonna be dressed like that I wouldn't have even taken the time to bathe and shave" papa says. I shoot him a look and Nana says "GEO-rge, Behave." My sentiments exactly. Nicely done nana, nicely done. I couldn't really complain since 99% of the time he would have still been sitting in his lay-z-boy with his heels kicked up and nana laying on the bed playing cash cab against eachother. I can almost hear him saying "good job- Mama! Can't believe you got that one. I didn't know they used to make the frame of a brazziere out of whale bone..." He was all the way at the right side of the house so I figured I really couldn't complain about the flip-flop bashing too much.
So Papa and I head off to our destination, and as per usual I drop him off at the front door. "K- papa, run in, get your cart and I will meet you in the pharmacy." I tell him. "What's that dear?" he says and he finagles his mug of tea into the cup holder. "Nothing, I'll find you."
He wanders in chatting with everyone as they walk by, I just roll my eyes and figure the car behind me is pretty pissed since he is talking to them in the walkway between the road and the door. Oh well, don't have time to tell him to move. My friend is going to be picking me up in 2 hours and I haven't showered or packed. Time for the pedal to hit the medal so to speak. As I am walking in there is a man with a slit cut out of his tupperware container and a description of some service for the community he is offering printed on computer paper and duct-taped to the front and asks me for a donation. "sure, on the way out" I tell him and go on about my way to find the elusive man I like to call Papa.
So we go through our regular ritual although he is in a particularly reminiscing type mood telling me that "he hasn't seen yellow meat watermelons like that since Uncle Claude was growing them on his farm when he was just knee-high." I really enjoy him regailing me if his childhood tales, but when he isn't planning on buying the melon just telling me a story I wonder why he picked the most rushed trip we have ever had to tell me this particular one...
We finally make it to the counter to pay for our goods the lady asks me how I am doing "Fine, thank you." I say half distracted by papa's scooter skills (or lack thereof) and he tells me he will meet me in just a minute. "That's good. It's hot out there isn't it?" she says back to me. "Umm.. hmm" I answer back. "You running to restroom, Papa?" I ask him wanting to know so that I don't have to search high and low for him after I pay. "Something like that.." he mumbles as he walks off. "How are you doing today" the greeter asks me again. How strange of her to ask twice, I chalk it up to her having amnesia and answer again "Fine, thanks. Except for the ridiculous heat- must be 100 degrees out there today." "Amen. Sure is hot out there." I keep thinking that she is going to ask me a third time but she just bags up papa's produce, say my goodbyes and go looking for him. Not by the bathroom, not getting coffee... where is he? So I wheel the cart outside past the man with the tupperware and he asks me to donate again. I put a couple bucks in his makeshift bin all the while looking for papa on this benches and rocking chairs they sit outside to advertise that they have them. Not here either? GEEZZ!! I told him I was in a hurry! So I wheel the 300 lb cart around the front of the store and to the other door, back inside, look in the vision and nail center and no Papa. I wheel back out the door and end up in front of the man I just donated to and he asks me for money. WHAT IS WITH THESE PEOPLE, ARE THEY KIDDING ME? Finally I see Papa's red sweatshirt and golf hat peeping up over the rows of cars, three rows over from ours. "PAPA!" I yell as I push the cart over toward him. "PAAAPAAAAA" I said having to yell loud enough to embarass myself, not to mention I am sweating from lugging aroung this cart in the heat. He turns around slowly with his coffee and I point where the car is and he heads that way. When he finally gets to the car after I had already unloaded the car, returned the cart, and gotten the air on, he bee bops up. "What were you doing wandering around the parking lot? You know I was in a hurry." I quickly ask him. "Well," he says mid-sip of the coffee he went off to get "I walked out here and realized I couldn't remember where we parked so I have been going down the aisles." "Papa-I dropped you off at the front door." I tell him. "Doggone- no wonder I couldn't find the old la-sabre." Long story short (well.. not really..but...figuratively speaking) I wasn't ready when my friend picked me up, but who can blame me? Papa is retired, even his coffee mug is laid back.

technology woes..

so, yeah.. I did it. I got an Iphone. I just HAD to have it. Now I pay entirely too much in phone bills and don't know how to use half of the apps or even look up the ones I really like. Looks like my next trip to the local barnes and noble is going to consist of browsing turned to buying in the iphone for dummies section. My friends that are in the "I-club" (aka own one) tell me that it is because I haven't rebooted or sync-ed it with my PC lately. Well... I would like all the perks without the knowledge of a gigabite pleeeze... That is not what I bargained for.. Computers are so not my forte... this whole plug the cord in your USB and then go to la lala and do doobie doobie do and oh my... so confused sometimes. I think I need an Ihug.

how do you think this one ends...

so here I am, sitting with one of my BFFs talking about lord of the rings and attempting to watch revolutionary road (which we eventually gave up on) and my phone starts buzzing. 10:30, who could that be... Im not expecting any calls... "hey girl. want to go to Charlotte for a concert? we have to leave at 8am." and the adventure begins....

I love my aunt debbie

So as I lay down to bed, almost asleep last night my phone rings.. "Aunt Debbie cell? I say aloud... It's awfully late" I say "hello" trying to hide my sleepy voice. "OH CRAP" she says "I was trying to text you."
So this morning I get a message from her that says "wnat to swimm sunday?" (which I could only assume meant want to swim sunday) I answer and ask her "if she is getting this texting this down." She says "HEee.. heeEE. trying. I'm gonna tweeter next." "Debbie," I say, "It's twitter."

A story about my BF's Grandaddy

Dedicated to Jack- Never forgotten, always loved:

Written by her grandmother:
Going through some old papers the other day I read some of Jack's class assignments and one I had to laugh over all over again. Now some of you are old enough to remember Jack who died in August 2000, we did not quiet make it to the magical 50 year marriage but for 47 years he was a great husband, father, and a friend to all.
When Jack retired from the army in 1971, he decided to go back to college and earn a degree in education and then teach for a few years at least until the magical age 62 when one could draw their social security. He found that he absolutley loved college...looked forward to going to class...loved doing "homework" writing papers, researching and more writing and more writing. He went on and earned a Master's Degree and also had a great time. If there had been a doctoral program at AC at that time I am sure he would have gone for that one also.
ONe day he came home, said that the Professor has given the class an assignment to write an article on the firefighters fire resistant pants, and he was going to the library to do some research on asbestos being used for fire retardant materials. Gone all afternoon, and came home and on our old typewriter finished up his article, handed it in the next day, and then the next day, the professor gave all the students back their papers and Jack got an A+.
The Prof asked of Jack, "Mr. E, I made a copy of your paper, and with your permission would like to read it to the class", of course Jack said ok, and so the teacher read the paper, the class began laughing, whooping, and some even had tears running down their face. The assignment which was still written on the blackboard, was to write an article on "HOT PANTS"
He came home laughing at himself, for those of you who are very young in the late 70s, girls did not wear bermuda shorts, but very very very short...hot pants. one could call this joke on Jack, a generational gender fling.

Wal-Mart Chronicles #3

To Papa...

Since the last installment of our Wally World adventures Papa attempted to sneak out of the house while both Nana and I were away to go to the "curb mart" where unfortunately his trusty "A-La-Sabre" left him high and dry. So not only was he left with no cell phone because "those are the most useless things on the planet," but he also had to bum a ride from the pool man who was more than likely buying his usual carton of newports. SO... not only did my Nana have a cow thinking that someone had stolen his hunk of junk, but was alarmed when he was in his regular spot sipping his tea like nothing had happened. "Where in the world is your car?"She asked him. "Broke down" he says looking down at the golf digest he was reading. "How would you know that it broke down, you aren't supposed to be driving." "None of your business" he says and practices his golf swing without letting the leg rest down on his lay-z-boy.
So here we are... in my Nana's Jeep driving to Wal-Mart. "We got a half tank in there, sugar?" he asks me. "Yeah Pop, a little over." "Good, takes about that much for this dang thing to get out here" he says as he adjusts his golf cap. I just roll my eyes and rev the engine just to piss him off. "Don't do that- that takes up a 1/4 tank."
I drop him off at the front door and he plops out of the car, I say plop because it is so much higher than his car and what he is used to that he has to hop out and catch himself on the door handle. I walk in and he is just standing by the so-called "greeter" waiting for her to acknowledge his presence and get him a scooter. Finally Ms. Beverly walks up to him and says "come on, I'll get you one." By this time I wander off to see what the bakery section has come up with for this valentine holiday season. "Heart shaped pretzels covered with red hots, hmm.." was my thought as he wheeled up beside me.
"She said I can't drag race or pop wheelies in this one and I told her that was the only reason that I came here every Saturday." I just laugh and tell him that he should have told her that he would take his business to Target, but their rascals aren't as good. "Nah, he says, the produce is better here." GOD I LOVE THIS MAN! "Pepto Max section- Let's go...Keep up." he says to me. "Alright" I yell to him as I throw some pink tinted powdered sugar donuts in his scooter cart. He opens the pack up and pops one and leaves remnants of powdered sugar on the corners of his mouth. "Pop, you got something on your face" I say. "Saving it for later" he says without wiping it away.
He turns down the next aisle, throws some adult diapers in his cart and a lady not paying attention almost t-bones him. "Come on darlin', go ahead" and motions his hand to her. As soon as she is out of ear-shot he says "you good lookin hunk-o-woman." Now, let me explain...This lady had the the wicked witch's mole and looked as if she might have been the birth mother of quasi-moto. He races down the next aisle throwing things like the family size bottle of tylenol and the entire stock of wal-mart brand gas pills in stock into his scooter cart. He then turns round the next aisle and sees the lady again "Hey beautiful" he says and winks at her. She smiles and giggles and keeps pushing her buggy along.
He trucks back across the store to the grocery section and scoots down toward dog food. Now, this is a bit of a shock to me, because our trips run on a map.. McDonald's for coffee, Pharmacy, Produce section, then he turn down the wrong aisle THREE times every week to get dog food. But this week he skipped the first two- I was a bit taken aback. So we get our regular 6 cans of Ol' Roy and head to the dairy section. Eggs were on sale so he begins to pile them in. "3 dozen Pop, don't you think that's a bit of overkill." He doesn't even answer me and throws six things of black cherry yogurt in as well.
He moves on to the next aisle and begins to turn in. He realizes it is the candy aisle and he already bought enough Valentine's candy to last us until Easter the last time and turns his rascal so sharp in order to aviod heading down that aisle that it toppled a bit and he had to throw a leg out to keep from falling out. He wheels over to the next aisle and sticks his arm out like a biker about to make a left turn. He turns around with a huge grin and says "Just in case they were wondering which way I was going." He reaches over for a pack of Luzianne tea (which we have 4 boxes of at home) and knock about 6 over. He is talking some nonsense about Bobby Labonte and the Nascar team and I just zone him out and pick up the tea and follow along behind. He then realizes that his cart is almost full and he had forgotten to go to produce. So he hands me the family pack of Charmin Utra strong and tells me to 'tuck it under my arm till we get done.' Now, I don't know if you have ever attempted to carry around a family pack of this for more than from shelf to cart, but those little buggers are slippery and won't fit under your arm. Then, once he started trying to balance stuff on there is got to be a little much for me. So I told him that I was going to go get a shopping cart and I would meet him by the bananas and to "BEHAVE!" So I get my cart, return to produce and can't find him anywhere. I search the avocados, the grapefruits, the strawberries, all of his usual favorites, but to no avail. I really hate to leave that section because then I would NEVER find him. So I check my phone very sneakily for the time, because he doesn't allow me to use it on these trips and realize that he has been missing for about 5 minutes. I finally see him wheel around the corner perking his neck up to see across his monstrous pile of groceries grinning like a FOOL. "Where in the world did you go? I told you to meet me by bananas." But then I see it, his cup of McDonald's coffee steaming in his hand. How did I not figure it out? So he starts up with the story... "Well, I think the lady in there was trying to pick me up... I brought the 42 cents with me for the cup of coffee, but then I went to pay and the lady said it was 52. So I was fumbling with my billfold for a bit and this cute little lady said that she would buy if for me." "Well...Well... papa, maybe she thought you need a sugar mama." "That's the first person that's ever bought me a drink before... You think she was trying to pick me up or do I look like a poor hobo?" "Definately trying to pick you up Papa. most hobos don't wear chinos and tweed golf hats." "Well butter me and call me a biscuit...hand me those bananas. "

So most people do this on fb, but I blog, cuz that's what I do...yo.

Dedicated to my randomness...

1.) I take my grandfather to Wal-Mart every week and there is not much in this world that I enjoy more.
2.) I love to give presents, but only if they are ABSOLUTELY perfect for the person. I look all year long for gifts and when I find them I buy them and store them until the person's special occasion. I have already bought val pal and Henry's bday presents. Their bdays are in May and November.
3.) I really like old movies and old movie stars, especially musicals. Oklahoma, funny girl, south pacific, my fair lady, pajama game, singing in the rain, meet me in St. Louis, gigi, an American in Paris... I probably have 200 if not more! Doris Day, Gene Kelley, Ginger Rogers, Audrey Hepburn.. They are classic, we should all learn something from them.
4.) I love comedians and stand up. I love Dave Chappelle, CHELSEA HANDLER, Ellen DeGeneres, George Lopez, Daniel Tosh, Redd Fox, tina fey,Dana Carvey. But my ultimate favorite forever and ever and will never change will be BILL COSBY!!!!
5.) I identify with Carrie in Sex and the City. She is a fashionista, which I try, don't have the money, but I try. Loves shoes- um, me. Has a great group of friends who see eachother through anything. And likes "Her money where she can see it, hanging in her closet."
6.) I love my name. I was named after my grandmother and have always thought that it was lovely. I prefer to be called Cecilia, I have fought tooth and nail my whole life to keep it that way because everyone in this country is lazy and wants to shorten it. Sorry... I like it. I love my pet names though: "nugget" and "cbass" and "cesilly" but only with expressed written consent...
7.) I really appreciate good manners. A man opening a car door for me is such a wonderful gesture. Gets me every time.
8.) Everything relates to song lyrics in my head. I don't know if it is because that is how I learn best or what, but if someone says something that reminds me of a chorus I am probably going to sing it to ya. Ex: What are you doing "Working 9 to 5...trying to make a living" -Dolly or How do you like this outfit? "Look at this peacoat and tell me he's broke" -Kanye
9.) I don't like scary movies, or being scared and I don't particularly like people in masks. Especially when they are driving with them on around Halloween. It's just creepy.
10.) I really enjoy people that can tell a good story. My Graham Cracker, Jack, My uncle Jim. When they can pull you in and make you laugh and hold you on the edge of your seat- I just love that. I do not like long, drawn-out, I "forgot the punch line" stories, or the kind told solely for shock value (you know which one I am talking about.)
11.) I was an adpi in college and am tickled pink that my amazing cuz decided to become one too. Now we really are sisters. "we are our daddies girls, we like to wear our pearls, we wear the cutest skirts, we are the biggest flirts, so if you want to know which sorority to go.. Go the first, go the best, go adpi" o.b.i.c.
12.) I can pretty much guarantee that if you need something it is in my purse. I have: Hand sanitizer, gum, 2 kinds of eye drops one for allergies, one for dry contacts, iPhone, ipod, headphones (or ear buds as I like to call them,) tums, allergy meds, my friends business cards to hand out when needed, blister prevention band-aids, deo, advil, tissues, girlie necessities, mascara, two shades of lipstick, two shades of gloss, one cherry chap-stick, one carmex (which ironically I hate the taste/smell of but am completely addicted to, pens, a brush, tide pen(it really works- I promise!!), a recipe i am trying tonight,sunglass cloth, lotion, and my keys (most of time except when I lock them in my car which is sadly becoming a habit) and they contain a bottle opener. Plus the gum I carry is big red so everything kinda smells like cinnamon..
13. I would really like to be a banker or a postal worker, not because I think I would like the job, but because they get all the sweet holidays off like veterans day, MLK, presidents day, labor day etc. And get to stay at home telling their friends "suckers!! How's work!?"
14. If I could do it all again I'd go to culinary school.
15.I like game shows like wheel of fortune and jeopardy and cash cab and I usually do awesome, but I SUCK at trivia at a bar, maybe it is the pressure..
16. I have two sisters adopted from china and they are beee-u-tee-ful!
17. I hate karaoke and will not do it- but I will go watch you do it ANYday!!
18. I'm not a dancer usually, but sometimes I get a hankerin' to shake my ass and it won't go away until I I clubbin'
19. I love the beach- it is my happy place.
20. I LOVE my dog- and, so much due to jack, is very well behaved.
21. I love the yellow jackets and grew up cheering for them "ramblin' gamblin' helluva engineer"
22. I really enjoy going to the zoo and reading about all the animals. The golden lion tamarin monkey is my favorite!
23. I think little kids are the funniest. They keep it real- they have to poop, they say so. They fart, they announce it, "sorry I pooted" and then plug their nose and run away. They cry when they are sad, they yell when they are angry, they get dirty, they don't like baths, they fight for their favorite toy, they play their favorite movie over and over and quote it. They use their imaginations and don't have to go somewhere to be on vacation- they can just believe that they are there. They love the pool and swimming, they cry when they have to leave somewhere they are having fun. They sing on the potty, they are attached to their blankies. They beat up their sibling and blame it on the one that cant talk yet. They throw their dinner on the floor if they don't like of, they throw fits when they don't get what they want, they don't need designer clothes and fancy makeup- they are just beautiful. They love their mommies and their daddies and they trust everyone no matter what..
24.I live to travel! Switzerland, Italy, France, Ecuador, Germany and new York were my favorite!!
25. I would love to write a book one day and I'm working on it- watch it guys, you say something that I like and it just might end up in my masterpiece!!

Ode de Cosby

DEDICATED TO BILL.

Ok, so it is sad to admit this, but the truth is I have a severe addiction. I love the Cosby show. I don't know if it is the attitude that phylicia rashod projects as such a strong forward women or if it the fact that their marraige seems to be rock solid. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that they can be faced with the hardest of parenting challenges and seem to come up with the most clever ways to teach their kids a lesson. Like when they made Rudy and vanessa stay in the basement when they were fighting or when claire hustable made legal calls to bail theo out. And they do it all within 30 minutes.AMAZING! I love the fact that everyone calls Bill DR. Huckstable. Even the little kids. ANd who can resist that little Raven symon? I mean she is freakin cutest kid in the history of the world. And Denise's clothes? Straight flashback to a time where designers did hallucinogens. I love Dr.'s crazy ass Sweaters and when rudy and kenneth get in their discussions about womens rights because his brother is teaching him sexist ways. Or how bout the episode when Dr. huckstable tries to dress like a hobo and pretend he is really poor so he can wheel deal on a car price yet people recognize and ask him why he is dressed like that and tell the salesman that he is a doctor; they totally blew his cover! I love the fact that this is a show that I truly enjoy and can sit side by side with my grandmother and not have a single awkward moment. I think the mark of a truly gifted comedian is to make me laugh out loud with a joke that you can repeat back to your mom.

My name is Gigi and I am an ALPO-holic

DEDICATED TO MY PRECIOUS PUP..

So yesterday when I let my dog in she had the hiccups. The funny thing is that this is the third time this week. It started me thinking that perhaps she has a problem with alcohol. As I told my friend I do not support her drinking habit, but apparently she has fallen off the wagon (and found her stash when I let her in the backyard) because when I let her in she was wild-eyed and hiccupping. Perhaps she and Chico (our jack Russell that rules the roost outside) are in cahoots and have started a puppy distillery out back. I will keep my eyes peeled and make sure that none of the neighborhood dogs come staggering out of our backyard. I would hate the thought of Sadie and Taiser finagling their way through the chain link and then coming home smelling of whiskey and alpo, what would the neighbors think?! I guess for now I will believe her when I ask her and she just looks up at my lovingly and gives me a sweet puppy kiss but I'm watching her like a hawk; I don't want her getting mixed up with the wrong crowd...

The difference between college life and real life

How is that life seems to get faster and busier with every passing day of life. When I used to check my voicemail or email it would just be a simple "hi there and hello" from a friend or the heads up that a good band was coming to town. Nowadays I cant check either without my day planner and a pencil in my hand. Where did the college days of sitting with my best friend eating pizza and watching trash tv (what? emlimidate is not trash!! she would say right now!) go? It feels like only yesterday that we were doing that every other day in her cozy little apartment which we loving called "the A.P.T" We would only get off of her couch to restock the popcorn bowl or refill our vodka/gatorades. Then on the occasion that we decided to go out, because we got the aforementioned message about a good band, we would take 3 hours to get ready if we wanted to. Therefore our schedule would look like this:
11:00am- roll out of bed
11:30am- class
12:15pm- leave class
12:30pm- call friend on phone to complain about class
1:00 pm- nap
2:30 pm- trash tv
5:00 pm- shower
6:00 pm- more mindless television coupled with leftover pizza
7:00 pm- blowdry hair
7:45 pm- start make-up process
8:20 pm- try on outfit #1
8:30 pm- try on outfit #2
8:40 pm- try on outfit #3
8:50 pm- try on outfit #4
9:00 pm- try on outfit #5
9:10 pm- put outfit #1 back on.
2:15 am- stumble back to the apartment
Start over again from the top....

NOWADAYS....
7:00 am- Roll out of bed and put on outfit picked out and ironed the night before, grab cup of coffee from coffee pot set on timer.
8:00-5:00 pm- WORK non-stop.
5:25 pm- roll into volunteer activity 10 minutes late
9:45 pm- leave volunteer activity
10:15 pm- eat english muffin because it is the only thing that you had enough energy to taost.
Start over again from the top....

So: word to the wise stay in school as long as possible, shoot... get your P.H.D.!!!

THREE CHEERS FOR NEW FRIENDS!

Dedicated to SUSUart.com


I am feeling a little sappy today and it is in part because of this painting.

My new friend, SUSUart.com painted this cross and she dedicated it to me and my Bf and called it the "New Friends" cross. As I told her, I see so much in this painting. It is not just brush strokes on canvas. It is so much more to me than that- I feel like it personifies a brand new comraderie that has become such an important part of my life. When I look at it I see so much depth and meaning. I see love and companionship and laughter and smiles. I see crossroads and hard times and a hand to hold. I see sparkle and shine and I see a lifetime of memories to come.
Friend, amiga, pal, buddy, sista, what ever it is that you call eachother it means one thing. Love. I love my friends with all my heart. You are my rock, you are my foundation. You break bread together. You trust eachother with secrets. You make nicknames up for other people. You defend them ferociously; like a mama bear would with her cubs. You take what they say to heart. You listen. You talk. You cry. You know they would never judge you. You tell them things you are scared to talk about. You tell them they look bad when they do. You buy them things that they need when they cant afford them. You remember important occasions (most of the time-sorry Val Pal,) or if you forget you make it up to them 10 fold. You support even when you do not agree. You calm. You relax. You listen to bad rap. You learn every word to songs so that you can roll down all the windows and sing it at the top of your lungs. You give suggestions. You take suggestions. You spend too much money. You are broke together. You see eachother through the good times. You see eachother throught the bad times. You are there. Period.

Wherever the yellow brick road may lead us in our lives we all know those ruby red slippers are gonna lead us right back to where we belong; with the girls that were right there when we bought them.

I HEART MY DAD

Dedicated to Fathers everywhere:

So my Daddy and I have a very unique relationship. While we may look alike in some aspects: we have the same smile, nose etc. We have senses of humor that mirror eachother. Therefore that means that we get eachother's jokes more than other people. So when my Daddy says something funny I get it more than anyone else in the room and we end up laughing hysterically and the rest of the table looks at us and eachother wondering what it is that made us laugh so hard we cried.
Because his hysterics crack me up so much I cherish when I have voicemails from him, because I know what they are going to be before I listen to them. They will be a message in whatever foreign accent he is feeling that day. It might be a Tony Soprano style message asking me if i want some canoli or if I want to meet up to tie someone's feet to cinder blocks and throw them in the Hudson. Or perhaps it will be a Mexican accent telling me if I don't answer my phone that he might "have to stab you, mein." Perhaps he will be in a particularly witty mood and leave me one in his best Darth Vader saying "cecilia..... I am your Father."
So what do I do? I call him back, he intentionally doesn't answer so that we can continue on with our banter, and I leave him a message in my best British accent asking if he would like to "drop round' for a spot of tea later" or in my Chinese lady telling him that his order of "pok flied riice and egga-rolls are a-reddy in fib-a-teen a-minutes."

Guess there is a reason I'm halfway through my 20s and still call him Daddy. Sometimes we just don't grow up...

Wal-Mart Chronicles #2

So here we go again, it is saturday morning and we all know what I am doing. I am climbing in my grandfathers 1993 Buick "A-La-Sabre" as Papa calls it "sounds much more sophisticated that way" to drive him to his FAVORITE place in the entire world, Wal-Mart. Let me describe this fine piece of machinery: #1 it is a 1993. #2 the passenger rear door won't open. #3 The trunk wont open and is holding his golf clubs hostage. #4 the starter is a little faulty so it takes 3-4 cranks to start the puppy up. #5 he insists that I drive him in that car each and every time we go because "it needs to feel the open road every once in a while."
So we get to Wally and I drop him off at the front door to which he says "I really need to get that handicapped sticker" "yes papa,"I say back (mind you he says this EVERY week) as I wath him grab on the the handles and the head rest and try and pull himself out of the car. He falls back, tries again, and makes it this time. I watch him and his blue quilted fleece vest that he wears each week because "it gets a bit nippy in there." I watch him and his cute little golf hat teeter into the store and I go to find a parking spot. As I walk in he is talking to Ms. Beverley and they are catching up on the specials this week. I walk in and ask her how she is which she responds "gooder than grits." "That is great" I reply making a mental note of the precious new phrase that I will have to remember to use. "Careful with this one" she says to Papa. "Remember last week." She of course is referencing the tragic death of not one, but two scooters on the hands on my grandfather; the one that died causing the great coffee spill and the other that died and he simply abandoned in produce and used the cart as a walker for the remainder of the trip. "It's not my fault they don't invest more in these things.." he grumbles. She pats him on the back and giggles and turns around to check somone's reciept. "Hmm..." he says as he plops down in the seat of the rascal and looks at it like he hasn't ever seen one before. It immediately starts beeping and jolting and wont make it over the mat that is between him and the store. "Doesn't work" he says. By this time I am laughing HYSTERICALLY. He puts it in reverse and almost back into the doors. He stops and studies it for a moment longer all the while the automatic doors opening and closing behind him. Beverly comes over and asks him what seems to be the problem "only goes backwards" he says with a puzzled look on his face. " Let me just get you another one" she says with her sweet smile and backs one out of the storage spot. "This one should suit you better" she says. By this time I am lauging so hard that I am tearing up. I think for a minute that I might embarass my self so I do a quick acessment- who am I kidding... Who is going to care? The lady with corn rows in the shape of a lighting bolt and a t-shirt that reads "I'm too blessed to be stressed- jesus loves me" or the lady with the pants/jacket windsuit set whose pantleg is caught in her tube sock. So I let loose- I am laughing so hard when he finally gets the new one I cant even hear their conversation. He wheels up to me and points at Ms. Beverly and says "Apparently I've been doing it wrong this whole time- you have to sit like this one the seat" and he perches on it like and old lady trying to see over her steering wheel. "oh...ok" I say, but he didn't hear me- he had already wheeled over to McDonalds and parked the scooter in the "cart parking" area. He hobbles over to the counter and as he passes a table I see them laughing so hard that they can't control it. Everyone is looking at this point because I still can't catch my breath from lauging for the last 10 minutes and these ladies are causing quite the rucus. Then I realize that they were laughing at papa too- They had witnessed the whole thing from their table while eating their egg Mcmuffin. He realized that they were laughing at him and as he passed their table he just threw his hands up in the air and said "I just couldn't get it to go." You would have thought that he was Dave Chappelle- They let out a chuckle that was surely heard throughout the store. He passes them with a shrug of this shoulder and a huge grin and goes up to the counter and promptly says "old folks coffee please" and the cashier laughs and says "I'll have to brew you some." "Do what you gotta do" he says and pays him. He passes his fans which also thought that was hilarious and comes over to me saying "get my coffee for me will ya? Two sugars. I'm going to the pharmacy." "K Pop" I say because sometimes I get lazy and don't add the "A" to Papa and just call him "Pop." So while the coffee is brewing I end up talking to these ladies who are STILL laughing uncontrollably. I tell them about how I bring him every week and he is always my comic relief. I tell him how I have to push around a buggy behind him because sometimes when his scotter basket gets full he just throws it behind him and hopes it is my buggy behind him and the story about the coffee tracks. We are dying when the guy finally brings me the coffee. By this time Papa has rolled back up to us with a jerky stop with his pepto max and adult diapers. "bye ladies" he says to them, takes his coffee and pulls his hat low and leans over the steering bar like he's racing and heads off to produce.
Papa goes through phases, he likes certain things, eats them all the time and then moves on to something else. Right now Cheerios are his vice. Let me tell you- this man drinks a gallon of milk and two boxes of cereal a week. I have never seen anything like it. So as I pass the cereal display I yell up to him, because he always wheels a bit ahead of me "Cheerios are on sale" "I like the wal-mart ones" he yells back without even turning around. It don't know what it is about those little round honey oatie spins that he loves, but he loves them.
We then walk down every aisle including the seasonal candy section even though I told him that it really wasnt necessary to buy the "i love you" written out in chocolate. We are trucking along and then I hear him yell "do you like Spam?" I look up from the crouton package I was looking at and everyone on the aisle is looking at us. He leans back in his scooter chair, looks at me, and takes a swig of his coffee. "Um, I don't know that I have ever had it." "Did you know that it is the national meat of Hawaii?" I was a little taken aback by the sheer randomness but I was so happy that he wasnt suggesting it for dinner that I let it go. "I don't think I did know that" I say and look back at the croutons. "You know why?" he asks still leaned back in his seat. "I don't know... they don't have a lot of farms there?" I ask/guess. "Back during the war.." he starts "Spam was a part of the soldiers rations and the hawaiians took a likin' to it." "Learn something new everyday" I say to him. "yep" he says as he whirls around, balances his coffee on the toilet paper and starts scooting off "learned that on the food channel" he says.
He whips around the corner and leans back to me saying "I really think I got a hold of this thing today" as it stops short dribbling a bit of coffee in his lap and then he gets stuck in a corner and proceeds to do a 10 point turn. "Pop, I think you've got it mastered at this point" I say sarcastically but he is too interested in the can't believe its not butter to hear me.
As I am unpacking both baskets onto the conveyer a man walks by us "He looks like a terrorist doesn't he?" he says to me. "My suggestion is if he looks like a terrorist, don't say that loud enough for him to hear." I say. "He sure is buying a lot of milk" papa says. Then as we are walking out he is right beside us and the security gate starts beeping. Ms Beverley goes to check out whats going on and Papa leans over and says "See, I told you, Terrorist."
By the time that I get to the car, unload all the groceries and am walking the cart back I turn around just in time to see Papa make it to the car, stop behind it, catch his teetery balance and kick the trunk. Guess he's pissed his golf clubs are stuck in there..
When we get home and unload the groceries Papa always finds the few things that I threw in while he was wheeling in front of me. It is usually some measly items like a frozen pizza or a bag of chips, but it looked good. Well he find the chips ahoy I stashed away and says "you're so sneaky, always putting something in the cart, opens the bag, winks at me, tucks them under his arm and heads to his bedroom to take a nap.

Wal-Mart

THE WAL-MART CHRONICLES PART 1

Dedicated to all the Grandpas around the world.

My saturday routine is to take my grandfather, Papa to Wal-mart and I would not trade our trips for anything in the world. It is a very good thing that I am over the whole "embarrased of my parent" stage in my life because the first 5 seconds in wally would probably lead me to hiding under a rock for the rest of my existance. There is a path, much like a map that he follows on our trips. It all starts out with a friendly greeting from our smiling face of Ms. Beverley in the front of the store and then she brings him a motorized scooter. (If there is no scooter then I am forced to walk across the Super Wal-Mart get one from the other side and drive it all the way across the store back to him.) Then he proceeds to wheel into the McDonalds that is two feet away, park his scooter and bargain his way into two senior coffees (Lord knows he won't pay the extra 60 cents for a normal one.)
We then proceed to go to the pharmacy where he gets gas pills, pepto, maylox, diapers, you know all the embarassing old people stuff (which I have to go out and get for him during the week if he runs out.) I can't forget that while crossing the store in his scooter while drinking his coffee he stops short and his coffee spilled all over the place. He tries to wheel away quickly so as no one to see, but unfortunately that dang rascally scooter drove right through it and there are two tire prints leading right to his maxwell house. He then proceeds to try and "turn the corner sharp" by whipping the scooter around as quickly as possible ripping down a poster of the zyrtec allergy lady on the way around. I just pick it up and stick it back to the display and pick up the 22 boxes of anthistamine that fell off.
Then off to the watch section because the timex that he bought the week before is "broken." He starts with Miss Bessie who tells him that he needs a box or a reciept (because he just stuck it in his pocket and brought it with him.) He grumbles a bit and wheels around to the watch display and tried to find the same one. I take the original watch from him and ask him what is wrong with it. " The time won't set on the dang thing. They just dont make them like they used to." I push two buttons and miraculously the time/date/military time are set. I just pat him on the back, he puts it on, waves to Ms. Bessie almost knocks over the sunglass display and we set off to produce.