Senior Shopping

Peanut's first birthday is this weekend, and we headed to Target after supper to pick out a gift for her.  And a card for Flyboy's pastor friend whose birthday is tomorrow.  While Flyboy was looking at the cards I headed to the toy department.  I've had in my head that I wanted to get Peanut an upholstered chair just her size that is sturdy enough for her to climb in and out of without tipping it over.  I've searched every store in town and had this itty bitty hope that Target might be having some 60% off sale or something, but alas, the beautiful baby wingback chair in pink was still $80 and seeing that Peanut doesn't even know it's her birthday or what that even means quite yet, I think that's a little more than we want to spend.  I knew this already, but the instinct was confirmed when I showed it to Flyboy and he gave me a look.  You know that look.  It says, "have you lost your ever-lovin' mind???"  This was after he searched and searched for me in the toy department, not knowing I'd been drawn like a magnet to the furniture department on the great chair hunt.  Ever the funny guy, he was carrying an ab machine for Peanut when he found me.  I gave him the look.  He knew exactly what it meant.

In the meantime, two lovely little old ladies were at the end of the baby doll toy aisle on the red phone looking for a cashier in electronics.  One was explaining her dilemma to the person on the phone while the other was trying to find the ringing cell phone in her purse.  The ensuing conversation was precious:

Lady #1:  Isn't there usually someone at the electronics counter?  How am I supposed to check out there when there is no one around?
Lady #2:  I know I heard my phone ringing but I can't find it in my purse.
Lady #1:  Maybe you left it in the car.  I think you did leave it in the car.
Lady #2:  I think you're right.  I must have left my phone in the car.
Lady #1:  But you heard it ringing - it has to be in your purse.
Red-shirted clerk: May I help you ladies?
Lady #2:  I lost my cell phone.  I heard it ringing but I can't find it.
Red-shirted clerk:  Did you need some help at the electronics counter?
Lady #1:  Unless you can find a missing cell phone, no...
Red-shirted clerk:  Um...okay...well...if you need anything else, I'll be right here.

Unable to settle between the wingback chair and the ab machine, we finally found something soft we could both agree on.  We checked out, got a couple of lattes from the in-store Starbucks and made our way to the parking lot.

Where we found our two ladies looking for their car.  They had enlisted the help of a passing-by driver, who suggested they hit the panic button on their remote to locate their vehicle.  And it worked.

Gigi:  Well, that could be us in a few years, you know...
Flyboy:  I certainly hope not.  Just shoot me now.

Snow Day 2!

Yes, yes, I know this is old news. And I know Facebook is plastered with pictures of the blizzard of 2011. But for posterity, and mostly for Girlfriend (our Arizona daughter who has had to suffer through unseasonably cold weather this week - 50 degrees - poor thing), because she knows she wishes she could be here about now.

This one was indeed one for the record books. Let's look at some pictures!

There was four feet of snow right outside the garage door. Flyboy was excited, like I was, to be snowed in and have a day at home to lay around and watch movies. Until he opened the garage door and got the full impact of what he was in for.

And here he is, two hours later. Making progress, but still oh so much more to go.

Just when the driveway was starting to look passable, I ventured outside to congratulate Flyboy. And then I took a look toward the front porch. And believe it or not, there should be a sidewalk parallel to the street.  At a time like this, there is only one thing to do. Catch the next plane to Phoenix.







Well, like everybody else in the upper midwest, we did finally get dug out. This morning, however, posed a new challenge. Wanting to get caught up on the laundry while I'm at home today, it occurred to me (after a nice reminder from our local tv anchorwoman) that our dryer vent might very well be buried in snow. This is a problem. Getting into the back yard is also a problem because there is a sheet of plastic adhered to the patio door for the winter and I must go out the front and around the house to get to the patio where the vent releases hot air from the dryer in the basement.

So what's the problem?

Step one: dress for success.

Step two: plot your course. Hmm...this looks pretty deep. Let's try the other side.

Not much better, but at least I spy some footsteps into the neighbor's back yard. Maybe I can follow them for awhile!

How to determine your fitness level in one easy test:  walk in waist deep snow from the front of the house to the back of the house.  If you make it without having a heart attack, you pass!  It was about here I wished I had brought my phone with me just in case I needed to call 911.

Step three: locate the dryer vent. Come on - I know you're in there somewhere!

Success!  There you are!













I am happy to report that I am safely back in the house, sipping a hot cup of Constant Comment, having somehow miraculously avoided the need for cardiac resuscitation. The sheets are in the washing machine, and I am ready to settle into a day of study and prayer.

Life is good!

Night Sounds

Apparently chronic sinus issues have turned me into a snorer. I don't notice that I snore. Unless my dear Flyboy were to let onto me that I snore, I would never ever have known it. He has snored for a very long time, and the few times that our grown-up family has shared a hotel room while traveling, the kids have teased him relentlessly. He says I don't snore loudly. I'm relieved to hear that. He snores like a chain saw in need of a tune-up - with snorts and starts. But I don't mind. In fact, I am oddly comforted by his snoring after all these years. It is proof that he is sleeping, and sleep is a very good thing.

I was sleeping peacefully the other night, when suddenly I heard a very small scratching noise. At first, in my stupor, I thought it was Flyboy trying to find the on switch to his heating pad, or perhaps the control for his side of our Sleep Number bed. But it was going on for far too long to be either of those noises. My next thought was a mouse scratching inside the wall, or God forbid, under the bed. I hate rodents. With. a. passion. I think I hate rodents more than God hates sin. I would rather dispatch a black widow spider than set up a mouse trap. It just gives me the heebie-jeebies. To the max.

I woke up just enough to realize that it was, indeed, Flyboy who was making the noise, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what he was doing. I rolled over and said, "Are you having a problem?"

I didn't know it until later, but yes, he was having a problem. His problem was me. I was snoring, and he was reaching into the under-bed-storage-drawer beneath his side of the bed to retrieve a pair of earplugs in the dark. I didn't even know he kept earplugs in there. Makes me wonder what else he's hiding down there. I may have to look.

Anyway, he just said, "I'm looking for my earplugs. I'm sorry, I thought I was being quiet. I can't believe you heard that."

What he thought about saying was, "Am I having a problem? Yes - you are snoring and keeping me awake." But he was far too considerate to wake me all the way up by guffawing at my notion that he had a problem when, in actuality, I was the problem.

Thank you, dear.

Besides, I wasn't snoring. I was purring, which defined by Webster means to "make a low continuous vibratory sound usually expressing contentment." Yes, that's it. I was just purring and I can't believe he heard that.