(considering...)
At least this time.
(ponderous attempt at levity...)
A bipolar's blog is like a box of chocolates.
(PMS-fueled sidetrack...)
Mmmm, chocolate.
(drooling...)
(rebuffering...)
(ponderous attempt at levity #2...)
A bipolar woman's blog is like muthaforkin' chocolate FACTORY, y'all.
(pathetic attempt at a segue...)
And speaking of therapeutic things, it was healing for me to write about my grandparents. I needed to think these things "out loud", and it feels good to have honored my grand-peeps this way. Thanks for hanging in there with me.
And now back to making fun of people.
I strolled around Ross yesterday, looking for a new pair of shoes for Nature Boy. My cheap ass doesn't want to pay more than $20 for a pair of shoes, but the menfolk in my family have high maintenance feet, so I have to fork over the big bucks.
Which means $35--max. Which also means that I don't buy my husband shoes at all. Because he will only wear $85 shoes. And that's like, twice my entire shoe wardrobe!
Our son is more reasonable. He likes Sketchers. With the Velcro straps, please. In black. These shoes normally cost about $40 or $45. Which is still more than $35. Hence my bargain store trolling.
I didn't find any shoes this go round. (Strangely, now that Nature Boy's wearing a men's size, it's getting near-impossible to find Velcro shoes. Don't grown men still enjoy ease in their shoe fastening endeavors? Don't folks with man feet forget how to tie their shoes sometimes?)
But I did find this door mat for my BFF, Shrinky Dink.
At first I tried to play it off like I was simply saying her girls tend to track mud in, when really I was implying that folks need to gird their loins before entering the Shrinky Dink and Co. household. But Shrinky Dink got the "joke" immediately, cracked up harder than I did, and ran out of the house to install this Public Service Announcement by the front door.
And she even took this picture for you.
Love that girl.
Her mini-me middle child did not take as kindly to the new welcome mat. She got off the school bus, took one look at my generous gift, and proceeded to roll it up and hide it in the garage.
Brat.
Shrinky Dink, being a child therapist and all, did the healthy, sensible thing: she made her daughter retrieve the mat and put it back in its rightful place. (She didn't make her thank me or anything, but I was in a good mood today, so I took the high road and overlooked that breach of etiquette.) Daughter #2 was still peeved about the offending decor, so I helpfully drank her mom's coffee and attempted to remedy the situation.
I kindly said, "I just meant that you guys come in the house with muddy feet all the time."
She didn't buy it.
9-year-olds suck. They are too young to appreciate my hilarious sense of humor, but too old to fall for my BS.
I was bored of the whole thing by then, so I helped Shrinky Dink get rid of some of her hummus and talked at length about my new lipstick purchases.
Which I didn't buy, of course. I did what any penny-pinching makeup flake would do: I returned the last impulsive lipsticks I bought and don't wear, and used the store credit to get two new ones.
What? How else could I afford that $5 door mat?
