I didn't need to have faith in the weatherman. Schools were canceled so both Tara and I were off the hook. She was free to follow her delusion of pulling an all-nighter to work on her art portfolio. I was free to follow my delusion that I was still capable of pulling an all-nighter.
10:30 Tara gets home from work and announces that the roads are terrible and we should start shoveling. We gear up and easily clear the first couple of inches. A nice young Snowplowman in a yellow truck stops in front of the house to ask if we are going out. We tell him that we are not going anywhere, but intend to stay up all night and take care of the snow in small manageable increments. I do my best to impress upon him that I am incapable of shoveling large mountains of frozen snow plowed into the base of my driveway. He promises to try not to do that.
11:30 BP, Tara, and I are sitting around contentedly enjoying the fire and the knowledge that we have a snowday. There is an ominous crunching sound in front of the house. We leap up to investigate. An Evil Snowplowman in a blue truck has just pushed a three-foot mountain of frozen snow left over from the post-Christmas blizzard into the bottom of our driveway. I draft BP and the three of us go outside. BP and I shovel while Tara lifts and launches ice boulders onto where we estimate our sidewalk and front lawn to be.
1:00 BP is in bed. Tara and I shovel again. It is easy. Good Snowplowman is scraping by our curb. He sees Tara and straightens out the plow. She gives him a thumbs up.
1:30 Tara is finally drawing. I am playing a mindless adventure game on the computer.
2:00 I've had enough of the game, so I settle on the couch with my Kindle.
2:05 I don't know what Tara's doing because I am sound asleep on the couch.
3:00 Tara wakes me by announcing that it's time to shovel again. My body rises from the couch and puts on boots and coat. More mountain has been deposited at the base of the driveway. She gets to work on it while I start at the top. Soon Good Snowplowman comes. This time he slows, swerves gently into the bottom of the driveway, and moves the mountain to the side. An enemy has become my hero.
5:15 I wake up from my reading. Tara is no longer at the kitchen table or in the diningroom. I look outside and find her clearing the snow from her car. The snow has stopped falling and she has cleaned the driveway down to the pavers. She soon comes inside and I lavishly praise her handiwork. This is a behavior I clearly want to reinforce.
6:45 Postscript: The dog has not stayed up at all and comes down to announce breakfast time. I don't see Tara but note that her boots are next to the kitchen table. I assume she has gone to bed and contemplate doing the same. Then I hear Tara talking to me. I look up at the balcony but she is not there. She's not in the diningroom or the hall. She is still talking from very close by. I convince myself that I am really asleep. Then I look at the other couch and remember that the blue and yellow blanket had been dropped on the floor in a heap. It is now in a heap on the other couch and Tara is curled up in a ball under it. She seems to be sleeptalking. She didn't do much by way of artwork, but what a job on the driveway! She made it all the way to sunrise, which is more than I can say for myself.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
How Much Faith Should I Place on the Weatherman?
I have a dilemma. The snowblower gave out last winter and we never replaced it. There is a major snowstorm coming. I will be shoveling. Here's the problem. I could stay up all night shoveling a few inches at a time. If I'm lucky I could even be out there when Snowplowman comes.
Snowplowman will come after you have spent hours digging out. He will empty the entire accumulation of the street into your clean driveway. When you clear out the new pile, he'll come again. And again. He is relentless but he can be warded off. I have learned that he will not dump on you if you stare him down. Yes, I have stood guard in my driveway. I have posted myself, and my children, shovels in hand, at the base of the driveway, double-dog-daring him to do it while we were standing there. And he backed down. This was a serious moment of triumph for me.
He did, however, get revenge. After another storm I had shoveled myself out early and left to go shopping. When I returned he had snow-piled me out of my own driveway.
I get so worked up thinking about Snowplowman that I digress from my original intent. The best thing for me to do is stay up all night and shovel a couple of inches at a time. Then tomorrow when everyone else is partaking of the Big Dig, I will be sleeping upstairs in a warm bed. But, what if, by some bizarre twist of fate, I stay up all night chasing the snow off my pavers, and school is not called off. What if it's a snowy night not followed by a snow day? It's been known to happen. The snow that was supposed to start soon after dark has not started at 7:40. So... how much faith do I place on the weatherman?
Snowplowman will come after you have spent hours digging out. He will empty the entire accumulation of the street into your clean driveway. When you clear out the new pile, he'll come again. And again. He is relentless but he can be warded off. I have learned that he will not dump on you if you stare him down. Yes, I have stood guard in my driveway. I have posted myself, and my children, shovels in hand, at the base of the driveway, double-dog-daring him to do it while we were standing there. And he backed down. This was a serious moment of triumph for me.
He did, however, get revenge. After another storm I had shoveled myself out early and left to go shopping. When I returned he had snow-piled me out of my own driveway.
I get so worked up thinking about Snowplowman that I digress from my original intent. The best thing for me to do is stay up all night and shovel a couple of inches at a time. Then tomorrow when everyone else is partaking of the Big Dig, I will be sleeping upstairs in a warm bed. But, what if, by some bizarre twist of fate, I stay up all night chasing the snow off my pavers, and school is not called off. What if it's a snowy night not followed by a snow day? It's been known to happen. The snow that was supposed to start soon after dark has not started at 7:40. So... how much faith do I place on the weatherman?
Friday, January 7, 2011
The Voyage Home
Floor mats. Ed Hardy. Koi. No problem.
Leaving my sister-in-laws house, I get on Route 1 South. Pep Boys is on the corner of whatever street that is that I turn on when I go to Costco. Somehow I miss it. No problem. Auto Zone is a free-standing building in front of Wick Plaza, home of the country's largest American flag. I thought it was there. I don't see it. Maybe it was further down. I am at Sears. I toy with the idea of stopping, but I NEED to know how I missed both Pep Boys and Auto Zone. Besides, I don't ever recall seeing designer floor mats, or any mats at all at Sears Automotive. I make the U-turn. I head back north.
There are people reading this who know me well, so I want to say something for the record. I was not talking on the phone. I was not singing to the radio. I was not thinking about something else. Just for this one afternoon, my entire mind was with me and was wholly focused on finding these stores. Now let's continue.
I again approach Wick Plaza. There's Auto Zone, exactly where I saw it this morning, and where it is every morning on my way to work. But for the first time I notice something odd about the building. It is not squarely facing the highway. It is situated on an angle. Half the building, visible from the northbound lane, is occupied by Auto Zone. The other half of the building, visible from the southbound lane, is occupied by Childrenswear Outlet. From the homewardbound side, which I do not pass that often, you can NOT see the Auto Zone sign.
I need to make a U-turn. But I am pretty close to the turn for Costco. I realize for the first time that the Pep Boys building is set way back from the highway. What I really see time after time is the sign visible from the north side of the highway. I get onto the jughandle, proceed to the Pep Boys store, which I have never before entered, and find, (Thank you, God!) the Ed Hardy Koi floormats.
And then, feeling relieved and exhonorated, I went home.
I made one more brief, eventless trip to Menlo Park the next day. It was finished. Christmas happened and everything that needed to be under the tree was there.
At this point, I should probably write about how Christmas is not about the presents. And it's not. I could tell how this Christmas was particularly eventful and in these events, more meaningful. But I won't. Instead I will reiterate the lesson I will remember for the rest of my life. I will never, ever, again miss Black Friday.
Leaving my sister-in-laws house, I get on Route 1 South. Pep Boys is on the corner of whatever street that is that I turn on when I go to Costco. Somehow I miss it. No problem. Auto Zone is a free-standing building in front of Wick Plaza, home of the country's largest American flag. I thought it was there. I don't see it. Maybe it was further down. I am at Sears. I toy with the idea of stopping, but I NEED to know how I missed both Pep Boys and Auto Zone. Besides, I don't ever recall seeing designer floor mats, or any mats at all at Sears Automotive. I make the U-turn. I head back north.
There are people reading this who know me well, so I want to say something for the record. I was not talking on the phone. I was not singing to the radio. I was not thinking about something else. Just for this one afternoon, my entire mind was with me and was wholly focused on finding these stores. Now let's continue.
I again approach Wick Plaza. There's Auto Zone, exactly where I saw it this morning, and where it is every morning on my way to work. But for the first time I notice something odd about the building. It is not squarely facing the highway. It is situated on an angle. Half the building, visible from the northbound lane, is occupied by Auto Zone. The other half of the building, visible from the southbound lane, is occupied by Childrenswear Outlet. From the homewardbound side, which I do not pass that often, you can NOT see the Auto Zone sign.
I need to make a U-turn. But I am pretty close to the turn for Costco. I realize for the first time that the Pep Boys building is set way back from the highway. What I really see time after time is the sign visible from the north side of the highway. I get onto the jughandle, proceed to the Pep Boys store, which I have never before entered, and find, (Thank you, God!) the Ed Hardy Koi floormats.
And then, feeling relieved and exhonorated, I went home.
I made one more brief, eventless trip to Menlo Park the next day. It was finished. Christmas happened and everything that needed to be under the tree was there.
At this point, I should probably write about how Christmas is not about the presents. And it's not. I could tell how this Christmas was particularly eventful and in these events, more meaningful. But I won't. Instead I will reiterate the lesson I will remember for the rest of my life. I will never, ever, again miss Black Friday.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Morning at the Mall, Installment IV
We are now up to the Sunday before Christmas. I am on the road early. I had completely forgotten that I wanted to get Tara floor mats that match her steering wheel cover. I head for Strauss in Milltown. They do not have it. I decide to go to Woodbridge Center to finish up my shopping. It shouldn't be too bad. On the way up Route 1 I see Sears, Auto Zone, and Pep Boys. I can most likely get the mats in one of these places, all of which are on the southbound side, so I will stop in on the way back.
It is one of the very rare Sundays that I skip Church. I tell myself that if things are going well I will stop in at Our Lady of Peace and catch the noon mass. I know that this is probably not going to happen. I do not feel guilty about it, but I do have the feeling that God is watching me, shaking His head, rolling His eyes, and reminding me that if I hadn't missed Black Friday I would be home at my computer with a bagel and a cup of tea.
I start at the Sears in Woodbridge Center. They do not have an automotive department. I am now on the lookout for Merlots tee shirts, which I hear can be found at Spencers. I feel way too old to be shopping in Spencers, which was deliciously raunchy when I was in high school. Thirty one years and two daughters later it strikes me as half a notch away from being a porn shop. The saleswoman tells me that they do not sell True Blood merchandise, but that I can get it in Hot Topic or FYE. While I am surrepticiously browsing I find Pop Rocks, a stocking stuffer tradition. I pay and exit quickly.
I locate the perfect tree ornament for Tara. It is a camera, which I have personalized with her name. I pay and am told to come back in ten minutes. At this point in my travels I am so obsessed with Coach shoes that I have mentally blurred the line between what I am buying and what other people are buying. I am no longer thinking straight and think I am buying shoes for Laura. I stop at the ladies' room at J.C. Penny, and pass the shoe department on the way out. I ask if they have Coach shoes. The clerk doesn't seem to speak much English and isn't sure that Coach shoes are. I go to Macy's. I find the shoes Laura wants in size 7 1/2. While I wait for the shoes I realize that I am not holding a bag. Totally losing it now, I can't remember what exactly was in the bag or when I last had it. For a moment I think I've lost the ornament. But I don't think I've picked it up yet. I layed it down on the toilet paper dispenser in the ladies' room. Which department store was that in? Did I pick the bag back up? Which came first, the ornament or the bathroom? And where is the salesgirl with those blasted shoes? Okay. It was only Pop Rocks. If they're gone, they're gone. The clerk brought the right shoes in the right size (or so I thought until Christmas Day). I bought them. I retraced my steps to the ornament kiosk. I left my Pop Rocks on the counter when I wrote Tara's name on the Post-It. Everything was relatively cool.
I found a table to sit at in the center of the mall. I borrowed a pen from the Dead Sea Salt vendor and checked my list. As I checked Laura's column it became clear that she didn't ask me for Coach shoes. That was Tara's idea for her sister. I sighed and pick up my phone. "Tara, I found the shoes you wanted for Laura." I was only really missing the Merlots shirts, which were too expensive at Hot Topic, and the unlisted floor mats. I tried FYE, which no longer had shirts. I did find a double pack of Fangtasia shot glasses and a Merlots mug, which I decided, was going to be Pina's birthday present. I bought them, got a birthday bag at the dollar store, and called Pina to make sure she was home. She didn't answer her cell phone.
1:04. She probably forgot to turn off her phone after noon mass. 1:07. She wasn't answering the house phone. 1:15. Still nothing. I took a chance and drove to the house. I flew into a momentary panic when I turned down the street to hear sirens and see a firetruck in front of the house. No wonder she wasn't answering the phone. Fortunately, it was only Santa's firetruck cruising around town. False alarm. Both cars were there. I called from the curb just to be obnoxious. This time she answered. I told her to open her front door and there I was on the step with a birthday bag. She had just gotten home a few minutes ago. She was, indeed, at the noon mass, but it was the Sixth Grade mass and it had gone overtime. Thinking like a Catholic, I thanked God that I didn't go to that mass after all.
All I had left was to get the mats on the way home.
It is one of the very rare Sundays that I skip Church. I tell myself that if things are going well I will stop in at Our Lady of Peace and catch the noon mass. I know that this is probably not going to happen. I do not feel guilty about it, but I do have the feeling that God is watching me, shaking His head, rolling His eyes, and reminding me that if I hadn't missed Black Friday I would be home at my computer with a bagel and a cup of tea.
I start at the Sears in Woodbridge Center. They do not have an automotive department. I am now on the lookout for Merlots tee shirts, which I hear can be found at Spencers. I feel way too old to be shopping in Spencers, which was deliciously raunchy when I was in high school. Thirty one years and two daughters later it strikes me as half a notch away from being a porn shop. The saleswoman tells me that they do not sell True Blood merchandise, but that I can get it in Hot Topic or FYE. While I am surrepticiously browsing I find Pop Rocks, a stocking stuffer tradition. I pay and exit quickly.
I locate the perfect tree ornament for Tara. It is a camera, which I have personalized with her name. I pay and am told to come back in ten minutes. At this point in my travels I am so obsessed with Coach shoes that I have mentally blurred the line between what I am buying and what other people are buying. I am no longer thinking straight and think I am buying shoes for Laura. I stop at the ladies' room at J.C. Penny, and pass the shoe department on the way out. I ask if they have Coach shoes. The clerk doesn't seem to speak much English and isn't sure that Coach shoes are. I go to Macy's. I find the shoes Laura wants in size 7 1/2. While I wait for the shoes I realize that I am not holding a bag. Totally losing it now, I can't remember what exactly was in the bag or when I last had it. For a moment I think I've lost the ornament. But I don't think I've picked it up yet. I layed it down on the toilet paper dispenser in the ladies' room. Which department store was that in? Did I pick the bag back up? Which came first, the ornament or the bathroom? And where is the salesgirl with those blasted shoes? Okay. It was only Pop Rocks. If they're gone, they're gone. The clerk brought the right shoes in the right size (or so I thought until Christmas Day). I bought them. I retraced my steps to the ornament kiosk. I left my Pop Rocks on the counter when I wrote Tara's name on the Post-It. Everything was relatively cool.
I found a table to sit at in the center of the mall. I borrowed a pen from the Dead Sea Salt vendor and checked my list. As I checked Laura's column it became clear that she didn't ask me for Coach shoes. That was Tara's idea for her sister. I sighed and pick up my phone. "Tara, I found the shoes you wanted for Laura." I was only really missing the Merlots shirts, which were too expensive at Hot Topic, and the unlisted floor mats. I tried FYE, which no longer had shirts. I did find a double pack of Fangtasia shot glasses and a Merlots mug, which I decided, was going to be Pina's birthday present. I bought them, got a birthday bag at the dollar store, and called Pina to make sure she was home. She didn't answer her cell phone.
1:04. She probably forgot to turn off her phone after noon mass. 1:07. She wasn't answering the house phone. 1:15. Still nothing. I took a chance and drove to the house. I flew into a momentary panic when I turned down the street to hear sirens and see a firetruck in front of the house. No wonder she wasn't answering the phone. Fortunately, it was only Santa's firetruck cruising around town. False alarm. Both cars were there. I called from the curb just to be obnoxious. This time she answered. I told her to open her front door and there I was on the step with a birthday bag. She had just gotten home a few minutes ago. She was, indeed, at the noon mass, but it was the Sixth Grade mass and it had gone overtime. Thinking like a Catholic, I thanked God that I didn't go to that mass after all.
All I had left was to get the mats on the way home.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Coach Saga, Third Installment
So now it is Saturday morning, 9 a.m. Tara is working until 3 and is going to Jesse's family Christmas party at 4. We have a strict deadline. Laura, Jesse, and I head for the Jackson Outlets in search of a Coach bag for Tara. I also plan to come back in the near future to buy one for Laura, so I am eager to hear her boldly hinting which bag she would get if it were for her. We pull into the spacious parking lot and head for one of the many available spaces near the Coach outlet. My attention is taken by the large crowd on the sidewalk. It is a very condensed crowd, concentrated only in front of the Coach store. It appears that no one in New Jersey is shopping anywhere but the Coach store. I let Laura and Jesse off at the sidewalk to join the line as I park the car. I soon find Jesse alone because Laura has run off to another store. The woman behind us counts about a hundred shoppers in front of us. Laura returns with a purchase. We leave Jesse alone to freeze while we look in the kitchen store for the knife.
The kitchen store doesn't have the knife. We go to the food court to get breakfast. We call Jesse to find out what he wants. Laura orders herself an egg sandwich. I order an egg sandwich. I can not have it because Laura got the last egg. I get a grilled ham and cheese. We return to Jesse. He has moved up ten whole feet. I send Laura and Jesse to eat in the car. After they leave I regret not telling them to bring me my gloves first. I eat quickly and shove my hands into my pockets. They come back, and after a little more than an hour, total, we are allowed to shop. There is a huge crowd inside the store, most of which is the line to pay. I make a beeline to the shelf where Tara had picked out a purse four days ago when the store was virtually empty. They have changed the displays and it is no longer there. I am now sweating. I find it. Laura helps Jesse pick out a wristlet while I hold our places on the cashier line. Jesse joins me. Laura comes and goes. Being in this store and not shopping for multiple items is more than she can handle. She comes back with one bag and then another. She returns with THE BAG. It is chocolate brown. And it's the very last one. While she forages one more time I tell Jesse that he is to develop a shopping emergency in another store and he needs Laura's opinion. I will get everything, including THE BAG, and we can settle up later. Laura returns. "I'm buying it," she announces. I hand everything to Jesse so I can kill her with both hands. There are too many witnesses, so I grab the last chocolate brown from her and glare. "Well, you weren't going to come back here again, were you?" she asks. Just then a salesperson comes with ten more chocolate brown purses to restock the table. Just another half hour and we will be out of this accursed store.
If it weren't for the almost flat tire we would have been on our way to Freehold Mall. Instead we were looking for a gas station. Jesse filled the tires. Then we weren't sure how to get to the mall from where we were. We had a tad bit of trouble with the GPS, but we finally got there. Four stores later we found Tara's Coach shoes. They had the right style in each department store. They just didn't have size 8. Laura tried on a 7 1/2 and she figured Tara really needed the 8. (For later, it is important to note that I thought Laura would actually need a 7 1/2.) She even made it clear which shoes she liked. Our eyes were on the clock. I needed to get sneakers for BP. Laura needed to get sneakers for Billy. As we headed towards Footlocker Laura and I had a whispered discussion of what I might get Jesse.
The answer presented itself almost immediately. As Laura and I were waiting for our sneakers, Jesse just happened to be looking at a display. On the display was a pair of gloves with silicon finger tips in size X/XL. "These are really cool," he said. "You can use a phone with these gloves on. I think it's the last pair." I literally grabbed it from his hand and said that BP would really like these. Laura said she'd like a pair for Billy. At this point, I was on a quest and no one was going to stand in my way. No one. I waited at the stockroom door for the salesman. When I appeared I whispered that the young man with me might ask if there are anymore gloves in stock. "There are none," I informed the clerk. The man wisely nodded and rang up my purchase. Laura was miffed that I took the gloves she wanted for Billy. Oh well. Jesse, who was basically mugged, was a little bewildered and was still muttering something about really wanting those gloves. Good, I thought, sulk until next Saturday. But I had one less present to worry about, which at this point, was the only thing on this planet that I cared about.
On the way out of the mall we found IT. The Holy Grail of knives was locked in a display case in the back of Le Table Sur. We waited fifteen minutes for a clerk. Actually, I kidnapped a clerk earlier, but the designated Knife Lady wouldn't give him her key. She finally came and got us the knife. It seems to be store policy to hand the unpaid knife to the cashier rather than the customer. But there were quite a few people on line. She instructed us which line had the more experienced cashiers and hesitated only a moment before handing the item to me. I'm not sure if she decided I looked trustworthy or too deranged and driven to be messed with.
As we headed for home, with time to spare, I had two Coach bags, Tara's Coach shoes, a ceramic knife, the sneakers, the ill-gotten gloves, and clear knowledge of which sneakers Tara should get for Laura. I was relatively happy.
The kitchen store doesn't have the knife. We go to the food court to get breakfast. We call Jesse to find out what he wants. Laura orders herself an egg sandwich. I order an egg sandwich. I can not have it because Laura got the last egg. I get a grilled ham and cheese. We return to Jesse. He has moved up ten whole feet. I send Laura and Jesse to eat in the car. After they leave I regret not telling them to bring me my gloves first. I eat quickly and shove my hands into my pockets. They come back, and after a little more than an hour, total, we are allowed to shop. There is a huge crowd inside the store, most of which is the line to pay. I make a beeline to the shelf where Tara had picked out a purse four days ago when the store was virtually empty. They have changed the displays and it is no longer there. I am now sweating. I find it. Laura helps Jesse pick out a wristlet while I hold our places on the cashier line. Jesse joins me. Laura comes and goes. Being in this store and not shopping for multiple items is more than she can handle. She comes back with one bag and then another. She returns with THE BAG. It is chocolate brown. And it's the very last one. While she forages one more time I tell Jesse that he is to develop a shopping emergency in another store and he needs Laura's opinion. I will get everything, including THE BAG, and we can settle up later. Laura returns. "I'm buying it," she announces. I hand everything to Jesse so I can kill her with both hands. There are too many witnesses, so I grab the last chocolate brown from her and glare. "Well, you weren't going to come back here again, were you?" she asks. Just then a salesperson comes with ten more chocolate brown purses to restock the table. Just another half hour and we will be out of this accursed store.
If it weren't for the almost flat tire we would have been on our way to Freehold Mall. Instead we were looking for a gas station. Jesse filled the tires. Then we weren't sure how to get to the mall from where we were. We had a tad bit of trouble with the GPS, but we finally got there. Four stores later we found Tara's Coach shoes. They had the right style in each department store. They just didn't have size 8. Laura tried on a 7 1/2 and she figured Tara really needed the 8. (For later, it is important to note that I thought Laura would actually need a 7 1/2.) She even made it clear which shoes she liked. Our eyes were on the clock. I needed to get sneakers for BP. Laura needed to get sneakers for Billy. As we headed towards Footlocker Laura and I had a whispered discussion of what I might get Jesse.
The answer presented itself almost immediately. As Laura and I were waiting for our sneakers, Jesse just happened to be looking at a display. On the display was a pair of gloves with silicon finger tips in size X/XL. "These are really cool," he said. "You can use a phone with these gloves on. I think it's the last pair." I literally grabbed it from his hand and said that BP would really like these. Laura said she'd like a pair for Billy. At this point, I was on a quest and no one was going to stand in my way. No one. I waited at the stockroom door for the salesman. When I appeared I whispered that the young man with me might ask if there are anymore gloves in stock. "There are none," I informed the clerk. The man wisely nodded and rang up my purchase. Laura was miffed that I took the gloves she wanted for Billy. Oh well. Jesse, who was basically mugged, was a little bewildered and was still muttering something about really wanting those gloves. Good, I thought, sulk until next Saturday. But I had one less present to worry about, which at this point, was the only thing on this planet that I cared about.
On the way out of the mall we found IT. The Holy Grail of knives was locked in a display case in the back of Le Table Sur. We waited fifteen minutes for a clerk. Actually, I kidnapped a clerk earlier, but the designated Knife Lady wouldn't give him her key. She finally came and got us the knife. It seems to be store policy to hand the unpaid knife to the cashier rather than the customer. But there were quite a few people on line. She instructed us which line had the more experienced cashiers and hesitated only a moment before handing the item to me. I'm not sure if she decided I looked trustworthy or too deranged and driven to be messed with.
As we headed for home, with time to spare, I had two Coach bags, Tara's Coach shoes, a ceramic knife, the sneakers, the ill-gotten gloves, and clear knowledge of which sneakers Tara should get for Laura. I was relatively happy.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Installment II: Ceramic Knife Divides Coach Saga
I'd like to continue the Saga of the Coach, but I have always been a fan of chronological order. A couple of nights later I had a minor panic attack and was nursing thoughts that Best Buy would run out of the earphones I wanted to buy BP. I couldn't stand the anxiety a moment longer, so I announced to BP and Laura that I was going to Target to buy... something. I was really headed to Best Buy to give Tara, who was working there, money to get the earphones. Laura, who was making chocolate covered pretzels, said she wanted to come with me to buy little gift bags for the pretzels. Off we went. My first stop was the ATM so I could get cash. Although I use a debit card for every other possible purchase, when I buy for BP I need cash so he can't track the progress of his own Christmas present acquisition. To Stop and Shop we went. They even had gift bags.
But Laura thought we could get them at a better price at Michael's, and get Dad a ceramic knife at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. I was packing two BBB coupons, so off we went. We couldn't find the right knife. They only had a $20 "as seen on TV" version, so we passed. We got the gift bags at Michaels. Then we headed south on Route 1 towards Tara and Best Buy. As we approached, Laura started thinking that we should go to Market Fair to find the knife. Off we went. We found a great knife at Williams Sonoma. Unfortunately there was only one great knife left, and it had a pink handle. Agreeing that Daddy would not like a knife with a pink handle, we perused the rest of the mall fruitlessly and left empty-handed.
As we approached the U-Turn Laura observed that we were a few short minutes from Quakerbridge Mall. We might find a knife at Macy's. So off we went. We did not find the knife at Macy's or anywhere else. Laura did, however, make an interesting observation. The knives in the display blocks at Macy's could easily slide out of the blocks. Anyone, at Christmastime at the mall, could easily obtain a weapon. Laura thought this very distrubing since display knives at Target are securely bolted into their blocks. I thought it disturbing that Laura knows how kitchen knives are displayed anywhere. Anyway, we bought a small amount of Gertrude Hawk candy, used the restroom, and got a soda. As we left the mall, empty-handed, BP called wondering if we were at the Target in Cleveland, Ohio. We assured him that we would be home very soon. We delivered the money to Tara and came home.
While I did feel somewhat reassured to actually see the earphones in the store, I was now concerned that we didn't have the knife. It's not that I had zero presents in hand. I spent a previous Sunday wandering aimlessly and desperately through Walmart. I had scored a $10 sweatshirt and a football jersey. I liked the sweatshirt, but I was concerned what BP would really think of the Jersey. After all, as I was purchasing it, the quarterback who's name I was buying was busy lying sacked on the field. Again. The earphones should be on the way home soon, but I needed that knife.
I would like to add that at some point, either that night or at some other time, Laura and I were in the kitchen department at Target. I checked out the kitchen knife display. They are, indeed, bolted in. All except one paring knife that was either overlooked or unbolted... a weapon for someone.
But Laura thought we could get them at a better price at Michael's, and get Dad a ceramic knife at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. I was packing two BBB coupons, so off we went. We couldn't find the right knife. They only had a $20 "as seen on TV" version, so we passed. We got the gift bags at Michaels. Then we headed south on Route 1 towards Tara and Best Buy. As we approached, Laura started thinking that we should go to Market Fair to find the knife. Off we went. We found a great knife at Williams Sonoma. Unfortunately there was only one great knife left, and it had a pink handle. Agreeing that Daddy would not like a knife with a pink handle, we perused the rest of the mall fruitlessly and left empty-handed.
As we approached the U-Turn Laura observed that we were a few short minutes from Quakerbridge Mall. We might find a knife at Macy's. So off we went. We did not find the knife at Macy's or anywhere else. Laura did, however, make an interesting observation. The knives in the display blocks at Macy's could easily slide out of the blocks. Anyone, at Christmastime at the mall, could easily obtain a weapon. Laura thought this very distrubing since display knives at Target are securely bolted into their blocks. I thought it disturbing that Laura knows how kitchen knives are displayed anywhere. Anyway, we bought a small amount of Gertrude Hawk candy, used the restroom, and got a soda. As we left the mall, empty-handed, BP called wondering if we were at the Target in Cleveland, Ohio. We assured him that we would be home very soon. We delivered the money to Tara and came home.
While I did feel somewhat reassured to actually see the earphones in the store, I was now concerned that we didn't have the knife. It's not that I had zero presents in hand. I spent a previous Sunday wandering aimlessly and desperately through Walmart. I had scored a $10 sweatshirt and a football jersey. I liked the sweatshirt, but I was concerned what BP would really think of the Jersey. After all, as I was purchasing it, the quarterback who's name I was buying was busy lying sacked on the field. Again. The earphones should be on the way home soon, but I needed that knife.
I would like to add that at some point, either that night or at some other time, Laura and I were in the kitchen department at Target. I checked out the kitchen knife display. They are, indeed, bolted in. All except one paring knife that was either overlooked or unbolted... a weapon for someone.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
The Saga of the Coach, Installment I
Good morning, everyone, and HAPPY NEW YEAR!
I'm going to flatter myself that you've all been missing my blog these past few weeks and have been wondering why I haven't been writing. I couldn't write anything of substance because it would have been a violation of the Santa Code. If it weren't for December's cloak of secrecy I would have written about how easy I thought it would be to only Christmas shop for one husband, Billy (my future son-in-law), and two daughters. But I couldn't risk spilling the beans on how miserable it is to shop on Cyber Monday when one daughter asked for a very specific pair of boots that doesn't actually exist in adult sizes.
Furthermore, it killed me not to tell the Saga of the Coach. Tara and I drove an hour to buy Coach shoes and a purse for Laura. Upon our arrival to a beautifully empty store, we discovered that the outlet doesn't sell shoes, Tara's reason for being out in the cold and dark on a Tuesday night. My hidden motivation for being there was to find out what pocketbook Tara would like. So bummed was she about the shoes that I had to forcefully persuade her to make any comments at all on the surrounding merchandise. This is the child who has stopped me at every Coach display since the age of 12. I finally had to force her to look at bags until I was satisfied that she picked out the same favorite in three different locations. We asked a clerk the location of the nearest outlet selling both shoes and bags. We were in formed that we could go to Atlantic City or Lancaster, Pennsylvania. We went home empty-handed.
At least I had a target purchase for Saturday when I was scheduled to return with Laura and Jesse, Tara's boyfriend, in search of the bag I wanted for Tara, and the shoes Jesse wanted for Tara (for which we would extend the odyssey to Freehold Mall). Overambitionsly, I also wanted Laura to pick a bag for herself while helping me get Tara's present.
I will hold this part of the saga until tomorrow. All this takes place two weeks before Christmas. Are you starting to understand why I spent the month of December chanting, "I will never miss Black Friday again"?
I'm going to flatter myself that you've all been missing my blog these past few weeks and have been wondering why I haven't been writing. I couldn't write anything of substance because it would have been a violation of the Santa Code. If it weren't for December's cloak of secrecy I would have written about how easy I thought it would be to only Christmas shop for one husband, Billy (my future son-in-law), and two daughters. But I couldn't risk spilling the beans on how miserable it is to shop on Cyber Monday when one daughter asked for a very specific pair of boots that doesn't actually exist in adult sizes.
Furthermore, it killed me not to tell the Saga of the Coach. Tara and I drove an hour to buy Coach shoes and a purse for Laura. Upon our arrival to a beautifully empty store, we discovered that the outlet doesn't sell shoes, Tara's reason for being out in the cold and dark on a Tuesday night. My hidden motivation for being there was to find out what pocketbook Tara would like. So bummed was she about the shoes that I had to forcefully persuade her to make any comments at all on the surrounding merchandise. This is the child who has stopped me at every Coach display since the age of 12. I finally had to force her to look at bags until I was satisfied that she picked out the same favorite in three different locations. We asked a clerk the location of the nearest outlet selling both shoes and bags. We were in formed that we could go to Atlantic City or Lancaster, Pennsylvania. We went home empty-handed.
At least I had a target purchase for Saturday when I was scheduled to return with Laura and Jesse, Tara's boyfriend, in search of the bag I wanted for Tara, and the shoes Jesse wanted for Tara (for which we would extend the odyssey to Freehold Mall). Overambitionsly, I also wanted Laura to pick a bag for herself while helping me get Tara's present.
I will hold this part of the saga until tomorrow. All this takes place two weeks before Christmas. Are you starting to understand why I spent the month of December chanting, "I will never miss Black Friday again"?
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