I don't want to start ranting, especially on the Friday that begins the glorious week known in all of educationdom as Spring Break. But let me state fully that I cannot stand Walmart, for reasons so numerous all cannot be contained in one blog post.
I try to frequent Target as much as possible. However, due to the fact that it is 30 minutes away and the price of gas is more than what my firstborn will bring on the open market, I sometimes must bring myself to enter the retail hell that is Walmart.
I did so Thursday. I needed to pop in to purchase some Lil Smokies for Baby J's Easter Party at school today. One item.
But this drew my eye:
It's a very cute skirt! In my perfect color of green with black and white! And it fits! So what if it only lasts through 3 washes! It's cute! And cheap! Can you believe it!
1. I love the last day of school before a holiday. Everyone is happy - teacher, students, administrators
2. Walmart was out of the Lil Smokies. Completely. Totally.
3. Baseball tryouts for Payne tomorrow - moving up to Majors. The Baby J will stay in coach-pitch another year.
4. I cannot get an appointment to get a hair cut next week. Do I find someone else? Do I get the scissors out myself and hack the fringe that impedes my eyesight on a hourly basis? Do I patiently wait? I like the girl, results are okay, but I would love to find someone I love, love, love.
5. Other weekend plan revolve around planting a flat of petunias. All excitement, all the time. That's our motto.
If you could be any current celebrity for one whole week, who would you want to be? After watching the ABC special on the Royal Family, I am leaning towards Queen Elizabeth. I want Annie Leibovitz to come take my picture and try to suggest I remove my crown. Or, I would like to be Annie Leibovitz for a week, and take amazing pictures. Or at least have her talent and eye for a week. That's the kind of celebrity I could handle.
On a scale of 1-10 (with 10 being highest), how much do you enjoy talking on the phone? 2
Name a charitable organization to which you have donated (or would like to). I suppose it depends on your definition of donating. Although I love writing checks, I have spent a lot of my time with various groups too. I am in Junior League - lots of volunteering and donating there, and with worthy groups like Habitat for Humanity , The Women's Shelter, and the Rise School. I helped build a fence in December. The American Cancer Society is another group to which we have donated time and money. Our church counts too, right? And, if you are looking to donate, consider the Hydrocephalus Association.
What is a food you like so much you could eat it every single day for a month? Chocolate. And I do.
Have you or anyone in your family had the flu this year? Not in our immediate household, but Jon's mom had something fierce that took her 4 weeks to dispel it from her body. (And now that I have thrown that in the karmic realm, I am sure I will be struck down within 24 hours.)
The nickname, "Bubba," has always grated on me a bit. Not really sure why. It's what my grandfather called my dad some. My dad is not a hillbilly, missing teeth with a straw hat, shoes gone since 1983. But that is often the image that comes to mind with the name Bubba.
And yet, I have found myself calling the Baby J "Bubba." No explanation. It just comes out of my vocal cords.
He has had, cemented by a phantom dead root into the upper regions of his brain, it seems, a dead tooth. Been there for years. Like 6 years. He sucked his thumb, and the dead tooth was on its way to a 90 degree angle. Thumb sucking went away, and the tooth headed back south a bit. But we took to calling it his Bubba tooth. Something of the sort that you would see with regular frequency if you lived in, say, Greasy Creek, Tennessee. Greyish in color, sticking out at an odd angle.
The tooth has been loose for eons. He has wiggled and wiggled and grasped and pulled and made other valiant attempts to remove the bubba tooth from the permanent hold it took in his mouth. No dice. The adult tooth started coming in behind it, and the dentist still wanted to give it some time. No dice. That tooth was not coming out.
Family members began offering bribes of all sorts - large sums of cash, coveted video games, a banishment from playing with the mother's iPhone - nothing worked to encourage the young man to divest himself of the bubba tooth.I was making the appointment with the dentist to return for a mandatory tooth extraction tomorrow, in fact.
And then the Baby J bounced the basketball, forgot to catch it, and smashed his little mouth with the ball. Guess what! Out fell the bubba tooth. We were at the gym for Payne's practice, so of course the hysterics began. Blood was dripping from his mouth, tears were erupting from his eyes, and it took a few seconds to sort out that the tooth had indeed been ripped from its safe little home of over 8 years. It was left on the gym floor, forlorn and lonely and sad. A few more minutes to calm Baby J down and help him realize that this was indeed a good thing and a little pain and blood was worth it in the end.