5.20.17
Not every day ends with a pee-inducing laughing fit in the parking lot of the post office but yesterday did -- so I have to share it.
About two days ago, I was browsing Facebook and found one of those very cute stores. You know the kind -- all of the cute photos of repurposed furniture and antique mirrors with the original glass? That stuff gets me excited -- in this way, I take very much after my mother and grandmother. So I showed it to my mother, and we decided to head out there this Saturday morning. The rain didn't even deter us. We were out of the house by ten, headed 40 minutes away to find this cute little shop.
They say that a picture is worth a thousand words, and if I could pick some words for the pictures I saw of this store, they would be: false advertising. There was one cute corner where they'd taken the pictures, and the rest was made up of tiny tables with beer bottle lamps for sale. It was not what we had expected. We left laughing because there was still hope! We had seen a Dirt Cheap further down the road. First, though, we needed a small snack.
We pulled off at a Dollar General, as you do, and went in for some cokes. Now, I'm not known for my bright ideas -- mainly, because sometimes I lack common sense and really want things to be cute when I should just be quiet. So, I suggested we get some coke in a glass bottle and some peanuts and have a good ole time. My mother is practical. "How are we going to get these bottles open? We don't have a bottle opener," she said. I reassured her that I had seen a ton of boys open these bottles with their bare hands when I worked at the Piggly Wiggly. "I can do it." (These will be my last words, I'm sure.)
Now, I don't know if you've ever tried to open a glass coke without a bottle opener. It's hard. And after I cut my hand and googled ways to open it and cut my hand again, we pulled over for a 50 cent
Pepsi (the lesser soda) at Wal-Mart. Then off to Dirt Cheap, we went. This Dirt Cheap was huge with tons of rows of clothes, bedding, and appliances -- and it was busy, as all of them are. First, a hurricane-rivaling storm was blowing outside with icy rain but the AC was on high -- because obviously. Then things were on the floor, stuff was obviously broken, a whole team of Little League was wrestling in the toys. We were there for an hour and left with nothing.
However, as we were leaving, my mother made a grave discovery. Her new sandals had bruised her feet. We got in the car and she took off her sandals to show me these giant bruises. Now, you may be saying: "There's no way that she bruised that fast." And you would be right in that thought. However, my mother does bruise a little easily. So we accepted this fate, but she was still horrified. She even looked up what could make her bruise this easily. (Please don't do this. WebMD is a website created by Satan himself.) As we drove to Backyard Burger, which was an hour away and absolutely necessary after this day, she was silent, contemplating these bruises and what this meant about her body. I sang along to Patsy Cline, oblivious to her worry.
We got to Backyard Burger and sat down to eat. We discussed her feet, my hands (hyperpigmentation from a rash after angrily cutting into some azalia bushes -- a fun time.), the babies she keeps, and anything else. As we finished and left, we visited two stores with little incident -- which was welcome. My mother remained worried about her feet and we tried on clothes. There's something about summer that's great and horrible at the same time. The weather, the food -- all great. The swimsuits -- all bad. So we left annoyed with our eating habits (especially after those cheeseburgers). However, as we were driving home, we thought about some frozen strawberries and how good they would be in a strawberry shortcake...
Self-control really is not our best quality, as you can tell. We stopped again at a Wal-Mart and gathered a few more groceries than we actually needed, again, as you do, and then headed home. Oh, of course, we forgot to stick the Netflix DVD back in the mail. So, we thought we'd swing by the post office on the way home. Now, as we were singing along to R. Kelly's iconic "I Believe I Can Fly," neither of us noticed as my mother drove into the exit of the bank instead of the entrance to the post office! Thank the Lord it was Saturday; otherwise, we might have been in a little trouble. As we turned around to get back in the right lane, we pulled into the post office, only for her to drop the DVD on the ground and have to get out of the car to get it and put it in the mailbox. Listen, by this point, we were completely gone. We were crying, ready to pee our pants, and R. Kelly was still belting it out in the background. And when we got home, she discovered that her shoes had left dye on her feet and they were not actually bruised.
I'm proud to say we made it home safe and with a few more laugh lines than we left with. Mother's Day may have been a week ago, but this just shows that the holiday continues -- especially when we keep building fun memories like the ones from today.
