Funny

So you’d think that being an empty nester and all that I would be out living a fabulous life. Doing all those things I never got to do while single mommying and such. But the truth of the matter is that most nights find me doing my hermit thing. Just lil ole m e sitting at home by myself passing time.

The other night started out no different than usual. The typical routine. Wash the dishes from the day (coffee cup and a fork…2 minutes down and an entire evening to go). Brush the dog and have the eleventy-seventh conversation about shedding when it’s still winter. Stare at the cell phone and consider actually calling someone and getting out of the house. Plugging the cell into the charger and walking away. Y’all know. Tres excitement here at Chez Emptynest.

So I sat on the couch and listened to the clocks tick. Because it’s ever so important to mark the passing of nothingness. And clocks are like shoes. There’s no such thing as enough of them. But something seemed wrong. I mean none of them have ever kept the same time but that’s beside the point. The usual soothing rhythm was broken. Instead of a tickety tickety tickety tock it was more of a tickety blonk thump tick. My clocks were maybe… ticked off?

Imagine my surprise at discovering that they were not ticked off but “Jaded.” Each clock I checked had been tampered with. Little notes were either taped to the back or sticking out of the battery casing.

I wandered through each room as though on a treasure hunt. This is what I found:

In the living room:

  • Time stands still for no one.
  • Time is a companion that goes with us on a journey. It reminds us to cherish each moment, because it will never come again. What we leave behind is not as important as how we have lived.
  • Half our life is spent trying to find something to do with the time we have rushed through life trying to save.
  • Whether it’s the best of times or the worst of times, it’s the only time we’ve got

In the hallway where I pace:

  • Don’t count every hour in the day, make every hour in the day count.

In the kitchen:

  • Let not the sands of time get in your lunch.
  • By labor we can find food and water, but all of our labor will not find for us another hour.

In the dining room:

  • Time is a great teacher, but unfortunately it kills all its pupils. (Is he making an implication about my cooking here?)
  • You can’t turn back the clock. But you can wind it up again. (this was attached to a clock that I love that no longer works)

In the bathroom:

  • How long a minute is, depends on which side of the bathroom door you’re on.

In the bedroom:

  • Love is a sweet dream and marriage is the alarm clock.
  • Love vanquishes time. To lovers, a moment can be eternity; eternity can be the tick of a clock.

Under the clock on the desk where I hide the book I’ve been writing:

  • Don’t say you don’t have enough time. You have exactly the same number of hours per day that were given to Helen Keller, Pasteur, Michelangelo, Mother Teresa, Leonardo da Vinci, Thomas Jefferson, and Albert Einstein.

Tucked into the jewelry box I keep old watches in:

  • Watches are so named as a reminder – if you don’t watch carefully what you do with your time, it will slip away from you.

Folded into the calculator/clock combo:

  • Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you.

Clock by the front door that actually keeps real world time so I know when I need to leave:

  • Better late than never, but never late is better.

Needless to say I had a great “time” discovering all these little notes. Also, I maybe have a lot of clocks? But when had he done this? How had I not noticed? And that’s when I remembered there was one more clock I hadn’t checked. The one Jade had given to me to celebrate me finally agreeing to have botox to turn back time. Attached was the “key” to how this had happened. My spare house key was taped to the back. And of course there was a note:

  • In good times and bad times, I’ll be on your side forever more…that’s what friends are for.

So. Let me waste no more time in telling you that I hope that you all make the most of the time that you have….and that you find a “gem” like my Jade.

So despite my earlier “issues” with getting ready for my trip I actually made it to the airport with plenty of time to spare. This in itself was an issue as I am maybe possibly a bit frightened of the whole flying thing.

HWSNBN gave me a ride to the airport. I wasn’t entirely sure he would as we had just gone back to “lets just be friends” status the night before. (Yes, I’ll blog about it soon.) As we got closer and saw planes in the air he glanced up and said, “Pretty amazing how they stay up there. Think about it. Massive tons of metal…how do they not just fall out of the sky?”

“Ok could you maybe NOT talk about that right before I get on a plane? Not helping the whole CRASH OF DEATH scenario in my head!” I responded while smacking him on the arm. At least this broke some of the tension between us (or at least the tension I was feeling). I said “ciao,” grabbed my suitcase from the trunk and tried to leave MN behind as I walked through the sliding glass doors into the airport.

After eleventyseven hours of waiting at the gate they finally called our flight. I looked out the window at the plane as we all lined up and I am telling you, much panic commenced. I mean this plane was SMALL! It was only 20 little rows! Now I know some of you are thinking “ummm…and that makes a difference how?” All I can say is I don’t know. Safety in numbers? More people to cushion me if we plummet?!

I whipped out my cell and texted furiously:

Me: Ack! Small plane! Ack!
Lynn: Has the flight been delayed?
Me: Does it matter? Would that make the CRASH OF DEATH any different?!
Lynn: LOL you’ll be fine! Get here nowww!

So then I turned off my phone, buckled up (because yeah, THAT will help) and looked for the nearest exit while the flight attendant did her thing. She helpfully reminded us that the nearest exit MAY be behind us. So I checked that out too. Dude next to me was rather entertained by this. I mean people! He did not even have his safety instructions out of the seat pocket! And he’s the dude I have to climb over to escape the blazing inferno after we plummet into the ocean?! Ok, so there isn’t an ocean between MN and OH but I’m just saying.

“Don’t fly much do you?” he asked in a rather amused tone.

“Sir could you maybe keep your voice down? She’s explaining how to use the oxygen masks,” I whispered.

“It’s not even a 2 hour flight. I don’t think we climb high enough for oxygen to be a problem.” He then grinned at me and went back to chomping on a scone and getting crumbs all over the place. Can you imagine? Eating at a time like that?

So as not to keep you in suspense let me just say that we landed safely and such.

And what a reception! Of course I was expecting Lynn to meet me but her husband, son and stepdaughter were there to greet me as well. Her nearly 3 year old son Nick did the shy smile bit and then pointed at me and exclaimed “My Wennie!” Awww. Instant love people. I mean the cuteness was beyond explaining.

Her husband Scott grabbed my suitcase (service!) and we stomped out to the car. Nick kept up a constant babble on the way home. “beeble globbedy My Wennie! Beeble squeak globbedy Helicopper! Gibberdy bleebledy Pider Man!” Ok then. Of course I agreed with him wholeheartedly and by the time we made it to the house he’d learned English…or maybe I was just starting to understand him. I mean this little dude is an advanced specimen of future fabulousness. Oh, and when he grows up he’s going to be spiderman.

Now this blog would become a book if I tried to tell you about the entire weekend but let me break it down as best I can. The characters:

Dave
None of this would have happened without our mutual friend Dave. Dave bought my airfare as a Christmas present to Lynn and me. Then to make it even better he drove down from DC (a 7 hour trip!) for the weekend as well. There’s absolutely no way for me to thank this man enough. His generosity is so appreciated by Lynn and me. In fact the only thing that could have made it better would have been if his girlfriend Sarah had made it too. I haven’t seen her since October and I MISS her! Anyways…Love you Dave!


Dave and me ………………………………………Nick, Dave and Lynn

Lynn
You couldn’t create a better friend if you tried. This woman probably knows more about me than I do. She’s that one friend that you can tell all of your good stuff AND your bad stuff to…and she loves you just the same. She’s been my biggest fan, my strongest support, my voice of reason (y’all know) and a person I know I can rely on 100%. We talk every day and since we can only see each other twice a year we always have something to look forward to. Your turn Lynn! Let the countdown to Lynn’s trip to MN begin!


Smiley Lynn! …………………………………….Still smiley after dealing w/me 4 days!

Scott
Wow. I mean really. WOW. This man should be pictured in the dictionary next to the definition of husband. He’s 100% present in the lives of his 3 children. He cooks. He cleans. He’s constantly doing stuff around the house. Before the weekend (which included 20+ people on Friday night for Nick’s birthday party) he painted the upstairs. While I was there he fixed their drier, tore out the tile in the kitchen and put up a new tile backsplash. And to top it all off you should see the way he looks at his wife. He even kisses her every time he leaves the house…even when he’s just running off to do errands! I mean really!


Scott with the kitten. ……………………………….Scott with Nick.

Marc and Renea
Marc and Renea are Scott’s 1st 2 kids. You’d never guess these kids are Lynn’s stepchildren when you see how close they all are. They just seem like full time family. Both of them were so good with Nick. Marc is a mini computer game genius, incredibly polite and co-pilot for dad’s errands. Renea was a RIOT. She’s permanently attached to her cell phone and her ipod. She’s at that age (nearly 13) where her stories are told a mile a minute and oh the drama! She cracked me up huge. She talk/sings along to her ipod and the way she does it is beyond comical. And people…she’s beautiful. She is going to be breaking hearts any day now.

Pretend the pic of Marc turned out and is here. :(
Renea and Lynn

Pets
This family is serious about their animals. They have 2 cats and 3 dogs. The newest family member is a tiny kitten named Jade! Gosh where’d she come up with that name? The other cat is Velcro, the beagles are Brutus and Duke and the Puggle is Hotdog.

Observation 1
The level of love, humor and closeness that these people have is difficult to describe. Amidst the chaos of 2 adults that work full time, 3 children and a zoo there is a harmony and sweetness underlying it all. I struggled to put this blog together because I have such a deep respect and admiration for them.

Observation 2
Lynn and Scott were on a quest to make me fat. I lived on amazing cooking (thank you Scott!), a million kinds of chips, cake, cookies and cheezits all weekend. We also went to the Melting Pot for dinner on Saturday (a to-die-for fondue restaurant) where I consumed more calories in one sitting than I normally would in an entire week. I think Lynn now understands that I have zero self control. I never allow that kind of food in my house. People, I never stopped eating. I easily put on 5 pounds. Holy moo.

Observation 3
I am maybe old. I am maybe lucky that I had my child when I was young and had more energy. I had forgotten how demanding a 3 year old can be. Lil dude was on me constantly.
“I am piderman! I am piderman!”

I wrongly replied “mm hmm!” and then watched him turn bright red with frustration.

“NOOOO! I AM PIDERMAN!”

*panic* Y’all an angry 3 year old is a scary sight to behold!

“Yes! Yes, you are Spiderman!” I responded and then allowed my heart to beat again as he smiled and went back to pushing the button on his talking spider man toy.

I was blasted with bubbles from his bubble gun, forced to watch Spiderman, Cars, The Doodlebops and Potty time with Elmo eleventyseven times. The pony ride I gave him was met with giggles and “Do it aden! Do it aden!” demands. And people the 80 million toys this child got at his birthday party required his parents to dash about replacing batteries (as he is talented at keeping all of the toys running at the same time) on an hourly basis. I was in awe. When do these people breathe?


Oh the cuteness!

All in all it went too fast, as all vacations love to do. On Sunday afternoon Lynn had to take me back to the airport. Little dude gave me a hug and kiss and said “Bye My Wennie!”

I managed not to cry when I hugged Lynn goodbye. At least til I was in the airport. So then you wait another eleventyseven hours for your flight to be called and wouldn’t you know it? Same dude sat next to me on the airplane. I managed to put my safety card back into the seatback before he got to our row.

HWSNBN was waiting for me with a smile and an “it’s good to have you back.”

Friends are a beautiful thing.

Chores can be such a…chore. You know? So it’s great when you get some assistance.


Klepto making sure the laundry doesn’t escape before I put it away.


Klepto assisting with putting away the socks.

With the laundry all done I had plenty of time to relax before heading off to my Aunt’s to celebrate my Grandma’s 89th birthday.


My Grandma and I. To be even a 10th as wonderful as this woman would make me 100% complete.

I spent all day yesterday finishing a blanket I’ve been knitting for her. Unfortunately she’s holding it upside down and you can’t see the stitch pattern. Grandma being Grandma was praising it before she even turned it the right way. ;)


For me? You made this for me?

MY dog is way too big to wrestle down and smash into a sweater, but my Aunt’s dog “Cricket” is a stylin fashionista.


Because we all deserve knitwear!

The world is full of good intentions. The amount of love y’all have given me so far this year is just amazing. Truly. You’ve carried me through some rough days, some tough hours and some acutely difficult minutes. You people have kept me from The Meltdown. I mean really. How can you succumb to The Meltdown when you’re too confused to let go?

Yes. Confused. See in the midst of good intentioning and soothation (well it ought to be a word and this is my blog so there you have it. Soothation: The act of soothing) y’all have cancelled each others suggestions out.

Oh I can’t blame you. Not at all. It’s the combination and such. The Breakup automatically calls for shoe shopping and chocolate. That’s a given. But when you connect that to the fact that I am maybe BROKE due to The Unemployment you find yourself in a quandary. So you follow the only advice left to you: Get out of the house and try to have some fun. But then just as you are about to hit the road someone maybe reminds you that bad things come in threes and you find yourself scared to leave the house.

So at this point all that’s left to you really is to get good and drunk and hide under the covers until the year is over. But you can’t even do that because you have been sober for 5 years and well, drinking would be a violation of the whole sobriety thing, you know?

Quandary. Conundrum. Rock and a hard place. Limbo. Y’all know.

So you make a list because it is What You Do when you are stuck. And you take everyone’s suggestions and put them down for careful consideration:

  1. Shop (suggested by men and women)
  2. Get a makeover (suggested by women)
  3. Sex. Lots of sex (do you even have to ask?)
  4. Pamper yourself (suggested by women)
  5. Chocolate (suggested by men and women)

So after much consideration, consultation with The Budget (much crying) and time spent peering out the window (where bad thing #3 may be lurking) I gave up and decided to surf the internet.

I typed in “How to get over a breakup.” As the page loaded I stomped into the kitchen to make some hot chocolate. This allowed me to cross off list item number 5.  And then it happened. There was more than just water steaming up in my house. People I kid you not. My computer had “a moment.” Orgasmic gasping. Moaning. Even a bit of a scream!

I ran back from the kitchen and there it was. THE ANSWER. That’s right! Right there on my computer! An opportunity to cross off all the other items on the list. In one fell swoop. And it was within The Budget. With just this ONE affordable product I would be pampered. Made over. Transformed. And oh so satisfied! So I risked bad thing #3 and dashed to the store.

 

 

Can you say false advertising? Do I look satisfied to you? My outfit did not magically transform itself from drab suit to sexy lingerie. My hair did not grow into gorgeous tresses full of body and bounce. My sensible shoes did not become strappy seductive heels. And damnit, where was my totally organic *snicker* experience?

So I guess its back to the making of The List. Can I at least count this as bad thing #3?

So there I was, minding my own business on the couch and sorting through the days mail. Cause, you know, I should be working. But it’s Friday so back off all you perfect-not-reading-this-blog-from-the-office types. OK?

And then it happened. And those of you who know me know that this is NOT MY FAULT. I do not know how I get put on these mail order catalogue lists. Honest. Can I help it that Victoria’s Secret thinks I’m a woman in need? No. When you think about it, who am I to just toss aside their efforts? These poor people have spent HOURS putting together a catalogue just for people like ME who never knew how badly they needed red boots until they saw them ON SALE and RED and did I mention they are BOOTS and what is up with all the capital letters I feel COMPELLED to use today? Oh, and for those of you wondering? Friday. Proper grammar or reasonable length sentences not required.

So.

Red boots. On sale. Free shipping. From Vickies. We clear? Good. Besides, what with the Christmas shopping and etc (websters dictionary definition for “etc” may or may not list new outfits from Express and the Limited) I may as well just throw a bit more on the ole credit cards. Right? Oh I’m so glad you are agreeing with me! Love you 360ers! Love you!

And as long as the shipping is FREE, well you know? Maybe a few other things as long as I’m ordering. Oh c’mon! This is not for ME people, the other items would be for HWSNBN! So I checked my credit card balance.

PANIC! DESPAIR! Someone has taken my credit cards and gone crazy! Like they decided to just shop until the cows come home. And people? I live in the suburbs. THERE ARE NO COWS. So I clicked on the detail screen to see what the evil thieving shoppers had done and gosh, you know these people shop at all the same places as me! What good taste these thieves have! Oh and look, they bought the same things that I did!

Right. So maybe I need to cut back a bit until I pay these down some. So then I talked to my friend Jen and she said that maybe I should freeze the accounts. So after much stomping back and forth between the VS catalogue (boots! red!) and my online credit card statement I decided to take action. Kali (my dog) was a good support system.

You can do it mom! You can! Freeze those accounts!

Budget management system.

Frozen accounts.

So you know? It’s a new year. And I AM going to take charge of my budget, I am! Or else I could always cruise to the VS store with COLD HARD CASH. In glasses from my freezer and such.

Oh and yes, I have a pretty new camera so my whole life can now be documented for ya.

I’ve heard my share of rumors over the last few years at my company. After awhile you simply tune them out with a simple smirk. But a rumor that has refused to go away is that the company might be “reorganizing.” Lately the frequency of the topic has made smirking a thing of the past. I knew we’d entered a smirk free zone when I called in on Thursday for a quote and was told the “powers that be” weren’t available and hadn’t been all day as they’d been *hushed tones* behind closed doors with the guys from the home office.

I was beyond concerned when the boss requested a “talk.”

Me: So what’s this I hear about some changes?
Bossman: Yeah. Well. Errr. I’m afraid that’s the case…
Me: Am I being fired?
Bossman: These things happen and well…
Me: So am I fired?
Bossman: You know this wasn’t a decision out of OUR office.
Me: Am. I. Fired.
Bossman: Well I know you’ll find something right way.
Me: Say it.
Bossman: Yes I’m afraid I have to let you go…
Me: Could someone PLEASE get Donald Trump in here?
Bossman: Glad to hear your sense of humor can still be intact.
Me: ……

Well then.

Ever notice how you can tell the same story to different people but it changes based on who you’re talking to?

Naturally the first thing I did was contact my my friend Lynn online.

Me: I’m gone!
Lynn: OMFG
Me: *dramatic pause with no typing* I’ve never been fired before.
Lynn: Not fired sweetie. Laid off.
Me: I have standards you know. If I’m being fired I want it to be by Donald Trump (note the use of joke recycling here. I’m all about the economy)
Lynn: Well I’m glad you can joke about it.

HWSNBN: So are you jobless?
Me:Yup.
HWSNBN: You gonna start charging me for sex then?
Me: Yup.

Rrrrrrrring….
Daddy: Well hello there!
Me: WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Daddy: ??
Me: I’ve *sob* been *sobsob* and *muffle muffle sniffle* Donald Trump *sobsobsob*
Daddy: Oh honey I’m so sorry. I’ll forward you a list of job sites right away.
Me: *choke* *sob* *squeak*
Daddy: Love you too. You’ll be fine.

Jade: I’m sorry can you repeat that?
Me: Canned. Axed. Pink slipped. Let go. Shown the door. 86’d. Downsized.
Jade: Oh! You’ve been fired!
Me: Who are you, Donald Trump?
Jade: Does this mean we can’t go shoe shopping on Wednesday?

So please people. If I disappear and you see some chick with a hat held out (oh and really great shoes) on the side of the road….please. Be generous. Every little bit helps.

Ok so I’m not always that great at answering questions from emails or messages you’ve sent me. Let’s tackle them all at once shall we?

Q: Hey does Jade ever do your hair wacky?
A: Yup. Jade did my hair for a formal I went to and I think I had about 100 bobby pins on my head. Thank God I didn’t have to walk through a metal detector.


Shannon and I doing the little black dress bit last New Year’s Eve.

Q: When are you going to give us more details on HWSNBN?
A: Are you kidding me? You’re asking me to jinx things now that I finally have someone to date? Men have radar for this stuff! The second I would claim it’s all good he’d disappear. I’ve already said way too much. *shudder*

Q: Who is the girl in the lower right corner of your photos?
A: That’s my daughter, Krista. She’s an evil child who had the nerve to actually grow up and leave me an empty nester. (hehe)

Q: What sign are you?
A: Seriously? The quirkiness and such didn’t make it obvious? I’m a Gemini of course.

Q: How can these be recent photos of you if you have a daughter who’s almost 19?
A: I had her when I was 2.

Q: Now that you have a camera can you share a photo of your kitchen?
A: Ummm…oh right! That room people cook in. Sure but you’ll have to write back to tell me why this is important?


No, she’s not supposed to be on the table.


The rules here are so tough. Please send catnip. And tuna.

Q: Do you collect stuff?
A: Besides animal hair? Yes. I love to find books from the 1800’s. I also have lots of elephants around the house but that’s a different blog and waaaay too many photos.


Hopefully this photo is small enough that you can’t see all the hair.

Q: What time do you get up and head to the gym?
A: Preferably around 5 but usually when Remy or Klepto or Kali inform me it’s chow time.


My powerful stare shall wake you. Oh my God it’s 4 am feed me!

Q: Can you post a picture of you in a bikini?
A: Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahahahahaha. No.

Q: Can you post blogs about the stuff you knit?
A: Sure. Anyone really want to see this though?

Ok I think I got all the messages/emails covered. Anything else?

Being the somewhat neurotic/quirky chick that I am I tend to become friends with people who are either :

A: Amused by my antics
B: Able to tune me out (also known as the smile and nod)
C: Quirky themselves.

I met one of the above categories (we’ll call her “H”) a number of years back. At the time I was a personal trainer and she was a massage therapist. I had won a contest at my gym for highest sales that month and was rewarded with a free session with H. Being the somewhat chitchatty/curious chick that I am I talked during the entire massage and an instant friendship began.

Instant friendships:

2 cups trouble with men
1 cup chattychick
3/4 cup catlover (more is always ok)
1/2 cup unrecognized fame
2 tbsp similar background
Dash of fabulousness (also maybe possibly unrecognized)

*Combine above ingredients and blend with desire to make a difference in the world. Pour into same room and wait 0 seconds. (Like I said, instant)

We talked for hours and we’ve been talking ever since. We’ve been known to go long amounts of time without contact only to get together as if not a day has passed by. H is one of those people that leaves you on your toes because you NEVER know what she’s going to do next. One week she can be all new-agey and running off to see a psychic and then when you call her the next week she can’t talk because she’s busy being her precinct’s election judge. (Grin. Figured out which category from above that she is yet?)

So I should not have been surprised when I got an email from her last year saying she had closed her practice and joined the army. What did surprise me was that that was it! No reason! No information to get in touch! Just…gone. I tried every way I could think of to reach her.

I did online searches:

Google: H
Google: H joins the army
Google: Where the HELL is H?

I called the army.

Me: Hi! Hello! This is Wendy and I’m calling for H. She there?
Army guy: Ummm
Me: You’re a doll. I really appreciate your help. I need to talk to her about a dating fiasco.
Army guy: ??

I went to harass the people at the restaurant below her old apartment:

Me: Which is better, the multigrain pancakes or the buckwheat? And how do I get ahold of H from upstairs?
Waiter: Oh, we don’t know she just kinda disappeared. Real maple or the sugar free?

So as you can imagine much shoe shopping commenced.

Anyways, H got in touch with me the week before Christmas to say she was coming through town to visit. (insert loud screams that sent the cats flying) True to form, when we met at a coffee shop it was as if no time had ever passed. She gets me! Halfway through a sentence she’s already answering because she KNOWS what I’m going to say. When she smiles and nods it’s not a brush off but an “oh my God I did the same thing” acknowledgement.

Could. Not. Love. Her. More!

H is mucho happy for me that I’m dating HWSNBN but of course she knows my luck in the whole dating department (see Webster’s dictionary for hopeless, ironic and also maybe what-was-she-thinking) so she suggested that I consider moving out west and becoming roomies with her in Los Angeles.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. So let the possibilities begin! I already plan to sell my home next fall. I’ve always wanted to live somewhere warmer. The same career opportunities exist for me out there as here. My daughter is all for me living my life rather than calling her every day. (heh) So who knows? Maybe I’ll have a huge reason to stay and maybe I won’t. Time will tell.

So what do you think? Can you take a Southern born, Midwest raised girl and send her to The Valley? Cause y’all I like TOTALLY think I could pull that off. You betcha.


I have never been a fan of Mondays. Not because they signify the end to the weekend, but because they are evil and out to get me. I’ve learned to take precautions over the years to try and protect myself from their sneaky tactics.

Background info:
I make my living as a sales rep in the shipping industry. All week long I stomp in and out of warehouses. I probably don’t have to tell you that my customer base is predominantly male. As such, my competition tends to be female. The industry is highly competitive and there are times when you just want to scream because you know you lost the account for the wrong reasons. Service was perfect. Price was unbeatable. Competition had a shorter skirt.

My company is pretty fantastic. They want our business to speak for itself. We don’t buy our customers and they would never ask me to dress like the competition. We clear on that? What happened in no way reflects on my company.

As I said, we don’t buy our customers but we do show appreciation when they continue to ship with us. I take customers to lunch…drop off donuts…or supply the occasional game ticket.

How does this relate to Mondays? Well Mondays would be the day I fall off the dock or break a perfectly good heel or get lost in a bad neighborhood or screw up the sales presentation all together. Smart blonde that I am I have made Mondays my office day. Self protection and all that. On Mondays I drive in to our operations center, print out my marketing materials, meet with the staff and make a million cold calls on the phone to set up my schedule for the week. SAFE. SECURE.

The day in question
Yesterday. A Monday. Temporary panic followed by the soothing reassurance of a day at the office…hated but safe. I was standing there in my nylons and bra doing the “what shall I wear” stare into the closet while drinking coffee. Enter Kali, dog of chaos chasing something that I apparently can’t see on only 1 cup of coffee. She slammed into my leg and my coffee went everywhere. Great. After removing my sopping wet nylons and refilling my coffee cup I returned to the closet and ended up selecting an absolutely adorable suit. The skirt is waaaaaaay too short for a normal day but just fine for going to the office and has a gorgeous fitted jacket to match.

Alas, no other nylons without runs. This was not a problem. I had been to Victoria’s Secret on Friday afternoon and the sales lady had talked me into buying thigh highs instead. Pretty, comfortable and less likely to run because you don’t have to stretch the suckers up around your hips. They felt strange but I confess I felt kinda sexy in them too. The tops were pink lace with a special elastic band that keeps them up on your thighs. Ask any woman, we can be in sweat pants but if we have something sexy on underneath we feel completely different. Confident. Mysterious. Naughty. Fun. I told myself to get a life, stopped pacing about in my heels while pretending to be on a runway and made for the office.

The day was well underway. I had ordered hockey tickets for a particularly strong customer the week before and they’d come in by fed ex. I gave Rick a call to schedule a day to drop them off but he was going to be out of the office the rest of the week and asked if I could bring them by at the end of the day. (gasp. Leave the office on a Monday?!) Well why not. All was going well since the coffee spilling incident and I was feeling pretty confident.

You probably already know what’s coming…

I arrived at the warehouse with only 10 minutes to spare. I grabbed the fed ex packet and began cruising through the warehouse to the other side where Rick’s office is. The confidence was somewhat gone as I felt self conscious about the outfit and the looks some of the warehouse boys were giving me. I picked up my pace a bit and just as I got to the dead center of the warehouse it happened.

FWING!!!!!

The left thigh high had become a knee high. Verging on an anklet. Whatever had I been thinking to leave the safety of my office on a Monday?….and there I was at a dead standstill and completely out in the open. I glanced around and no one seemed to be looking. Ok. Now what. I could simply remove the offending garment but I’d have to lean over to remove my heel and my skirt was too short to do so. Ditto for trying to pull the sucker back up. I shuffled over closer to one of the warehouse racks and carefully bent my knee so I could reach the shoe.

Success. But now I had one leg bare and the other still nylon clad, and that pink lace on the right thigh was holding on for dear life. One of the guys walked past and I studied the fed ex pack intently as though I had a reason to be stopped right there. How ironic to be in this situation and holding a competitors envelope (we don’t do small pack). I began tugging again as soon as he was gone and eventually shimmied out of the other one. Of course I didn’t have my purse so I had to shove the nylons into the fed ex pack.

After a moment to compose myself I held up my chin and sauntered into Ricks office. Rick looked a bit flushed but the warehouse was anything but warm. I handed him his Wild tickets and tried to engage him in conversation but he was staring at the fed ex pack. I continued babbling and sort of moved it to the back of me.

“What else ya got there?” he asked with a strange look on his face.

“Oh well. Heh. Umm. Yeah, so I don’t like carrying a purse into appointments so just my keys and such,” I stammered.

“Did I tell you we just got a new security system Wendy?” he said while clearly trying to keep from busting out laughing. Then he moved to the side and I got to see the closed circuit tv with a clear as day view of the very rack I’d stood near while trying to resolve my dilemma.

Who knew a girl could run so fast out of a place in 3 inch heels? Mondays. Yup. Hate em.

Hello dear readers. When last we left our blogger she was ranting about a broken keyboard. Alas, she has still done absolutely nothing about getting the laptop fixed. Oh sure, she’ll regale you with stories about being a single mama with a mortgage. Terribly broke. But we all know the truth here. Oh you don’t? Allow me to explain if you will.

The place she needs to go to get the keyboard fixed is Best Buy. Now do you understand? That’s right! They do NOT sell shoes there. However, the mall is conveniently located right next to it. So while she stumbles out the door, laptop in hand and full of good intentions she always ends up turning right when she ought to turn left and ending up with a new pair of shoes. As such, she still can’t afford to get the keyboard fixed. Every “i’ is typed by hitting control v to paste it into place.

I dare not go into detail about all the other things she’s done. Such as that mishap at Arden B, the jewelry celebration as well as the chocolate indulgence. Really, the only shopping spree we can’t fault her on was that trip to home depot to repaint her kitchen just before company came…that one will be a blog in and of itself.

Alas, all good shoe shoppers must eventually visit their children at work, and her daughter just got a job at Best Buy. Never fear, she’ll have on her Steve Madden Turquoise suede pumps when she goes in.

 

**while searching for the photo of the blue shoes she just acquired our blogger found out that they are also available in red, black, brown and camel.**