Category: Good

Green Peace?

gr4c52 Comments

front doorWho would have thought I would enjoy digging in the dirt so much? Hand me a house complete with a hoe and I’m a happy girl. Who knew? Every morning I find myself standing on the stoop, checking the vital signs of my transplants, keeping tabs on the roses. I pluck wilting blooms from the hanging planter, willing more flowers to take their places. Bring on the color. Every night on my way to check the mail I double check my geraniums. My fight-breast-cancer pink blooms. Check for bugs. Check for dry soil. Do you need anything, I ask them. Water? Bug spray? Food? There is peace in all this puttering and pampering.
In the middle rhododendron bush a mother robin had built a nest. I had a perfect view of her from my window. Over time as I watched her sit on her eggs I would myself just how many babies did she have? I spied every day, hoping to catch a glimpse of her skyblue family. They hadn’t hatched by the time I went away, but when I came home three loud mouthed, scrawny, bald babies squawked from their cozy perch. Strange how a family of common birds could fill me with such caring. I kept a careful watch over them until one day the nest was silent. Empty. The babies had flown. Or so I hoped.
Out in the back there is a spindly dogwood (“It’s a tree and a bush, sir.”) that I have been mothering. When my mother was in town we noticed a strange vine had wrapped its tendrils around its fragile limbs. Invasive and attacking, this vine was literally choking the life out of my dogwood. We, my mother and I, set to work with a fierce counterattack. Armed with sharp (pink!) clippers we chopped and slashed our way through the vines and freed the dogwood tree from captivity. Since then I have been diligent in keeping the vines at bay. I hack anything that comes near.
A good friend has a garden of herbs on her front steps. I envy her because she grows all my favorites: cilantro, italian flat leaf parsley and basil. Could I do the same? the thought crosses my mind nearly everyday. What about the cats? The rabbits? And someone said something about a wild boar…something I need to think about.

So for now I will tend to my dusty miller, my roses – trees, bushes and flowers. This garden that has brought me a different kind of relaxation, a separate peace, if you will. Who knew?

Rock Me Baby

gr4c51 Comment

I ask a lot of my friends. I really, really do. Support this unsigned artist. Donate to my run walk. Come to this new restaurant with me. Hear this crazy-azz dream I had. Calm me down. Pick me up. Givegivegive. It’s amazing the amount of love I asked for from my friends. It’s amazing how amazing my friends really are.
Why all this gushing? Not only did the great ones donate to my 60 mile, three day walk for Just ‘Cause, they rallied together to support Sean Rowe’s cd release of ‘Magic.’
We piled in the magic truck and bombed our way to Cohoes, NY. Laughing all the way, we weaved in and out of traffic and got there in record time. Just in time to miss just one song. We got there in time to catch ‘Jonathan’ and get caught up in the electric vibe. Sean sounded great and I couldn’t wait for every word. After waiting for brownies and a monkey-something-er-rather we got settled by the stairs. I think B had bathroom duty without realizing it. Crammed in I couldn’t see Sean but, I don’t need to see the man to hear the words and feel the sound.
After the first set my friend I have dubbed God (don’t ask) snagged spots at the top of the stairs for all of us. Great spot! The view looking out over the crowd was great. The sound was phenomenal. The fresh air from the back door was heavenly. The company was cool.
Wait. Let me talk about that for a minute. I always stress about bringing someone new to see unknown music. It’s always a gamble. I took someone to see sirsy a few years back. Virgin territory. She walked out halfway through the first set and never came back. So I worry. I convince someone to make the trek and maybe they’ll hate it. Hate me. Not so Sean night. B doesn’t know me all that well. Knows the music all that less. Maybe even knows Cohoes not at all. Not only did he subject himself to all that, he survived it all. He had good things to say about the venue, better things to say about the beer, and the best things to say about Sean. It rocked. He rocked.
But, back to Sean. He also rocked in all the right ways. I love the new version of ‘Jonathan.’ I say new because I’m used to the pared down, sparse and folky version of the song. This version builds in intensity that matches the lyrics and the passion. It’s perfect. In some ways it’s even better than the version I’m used to. ‘Trademark of Fools’ almost didn’t make it out of Sean’s mouth. Luckily, the motto is “the crowd is always right” and we got him to get it out. As usual ‘Wet’ wrecked me. Happens everytime. Having the fortress of friends around me really, really helped. Manda, your tissue delivery was well timed. I would have snotted Ruby if you hadn’t magically appeared!

I had to ask Sean for a setlist and here’s the laid back, way-cool answer:

hmmmm. i don’t know if i quite remember
1st set:
duct tape man
jonathan
you’re so real
blue grass baby
draw the line
vincent black lightning
trademark of fools
why i sing the blues

set 2:
old shoes
night
there is a man
my father’s name
the long haul
true colors
jackson
wet

i may be leaving something out and some of the tunes i may have the order slightly wrong but i think this is pretty accurate. hope that helps. xo

Sorry this isn’t much of a review. Now that the album is out I want to sit silent and listen to it from start to finish. I’ll write something more Magic-centric then. For now, trust me when I say it is AMAZING!
xo

Writing While Walking

gr4c52 Comments

I set up a blog page just for my donors. I guess I’m saying this here so I don’t have to explain my time there. Aside from the cd release party for Sean (already written but Sean just sent me the set list), I won’t be over here that much – except maybe for book reviews. I think it will be good for me to get away because this walk for Just ‘Cause has brought me to a better place.

Learning to Say IT

gr4c55 Comments

no whining
I had to say no several times yesterday. What a weird concept. Usually I skirt around the issue, not wanting to come right out with not participating. How liberating, how honest to just say no. Not now. Nope. Why haven’t I thought about this before? Why haven’t I dared?

In the case of the work whiners it was easiest when I could look at the time and say we need to continue this tomorrow. My charges? To find out what makes some so damn inefficient. Easier said than done. No Grace under pressure. I had to admire this one administrator. In mid-sentence she was told she needed to be somewhere else. It didn’t ruin her day. It didn’t ruin her attitude. She was able to slide over to a new way of thinking. When I asked her how she managed she looked at me and deadpanned, “interruption is not a word in my vocabulary.” I love it. Word to the wise. Wise up.

It’s harder to say no to friends. I had plans to get together with someone who really means a lot to me. Yet, I need to stay on my training schedule. I couldn’t have done both successfully. It bothered me that the training won out. It bothered me to have to tell her no. After all, she is my inspiration. She is my hero. Yet, I put her off, hero or not. This is the way it had to be. No, I said. I need to train. Her graceful acceptance allowed me to walk nine miles. I got it done because I didn’t give in.

Later, an invitation to chat. Under any other circumstances I would have loved sparring with this flirty friend. He’s quick with the compliments and quicker with the innuendos. I love the sass. I love the challenge this conversation always presents to me. Who can be the most indulgent, the most daring? But, sigh of all sighs, I had to tell him and his innuendos no. I needed a warm bath and a hot cup of tea. As I let the water wrap itself around my tired legs I thought about this new no I seem to have. While I don’t necessary like it or want it, it works for now. For now.

Can’t Count

gr4c5Leave a comment

For lack of something better to say, here’s something I never posted.

I don’t want to count today’s run for anything except a cemetery visit. After kisa and I got the driveway, porches and walkways cleared of snow it seemed ridiculous to hop on an indoor treadmill. The sun was shining a brilliant blue. Not a cloud in sight. Birds darted among the bushes. 18 degrees felt like 800 after shoveling. Perfect for a graveyard run. Or so I thought.

Here are the things I have forgotten about since my last ‘coil run’ (I’m talking about the coils runners wear over their shoes to avoid slipping on ice – love them!):

  • coils “roll” on pavement
  • coils slip in fluffy snow
  • coils are perfect on icy ice

So, I tried to look for patches of ice to run on the entire time. It seems strange to say that, but it was true. The metal coils worked best when they could dig into the surface and hang on. Snow packed in between the coils and pavement just made the coils roll like springs. Running in snow was like running in very fine, very loose sand. My ankles grew sore and my calves tightened. Hell on the thighs, too.
I had completely forgotten what it was like to run outside in below freezing temps. Tears freeze halfway down the face despite feeling hot everywhere else. Snot starts to lodge itself like ice chunks. In the beginning, speaking of snot, I had a snot bubble that refused to pop. With every breath it grew and shrank like a giant bullfrog throat (crazy image, right? It’s true). It made me giggle until it started to freeze in my nose. Giggling turned to gross in a matter of seconds.
Running outside in the snow affords me the luxury in running in someone else’s footsteps for a while. Someone wearing coils like mine on shoes twice as big. For a while I could match his or her stride footstep for footstep and I fell into an easy rhythm. Then the packed snow ended and I lost my imaginary running mate. It was time for me to turn towards the cemetery.
Running up to the spot I spotted a man not wearing a coat…or a hat…or gloves. In this cold I had reason to worry. Instantly my heart began to race and panic threatened. We made eye contact, said hello and separated. Him leaving the graveyard, me going deeper into it. Remembering I had my phone with me I relaxed as the man continued to move further away.
On the way out I couldn’t believe my eyes. Mr. NoCoat was coming back. Panic was also back, so on gut instinct I bolted across the road and down a side street. I swear I watch too much crime television. I’m paranoid. Nevertheless I hated seeing the same stranger twice. Getting away from him was the only thing on my mind as I cut across another street and up onto a very public sidewalk. There I felt safe enough to slow back down to a breathable, less heart attack inducing pace.

I never did find Rick and Irene’s graves. The snow was too crusty for me to brush away. I never did see NoCoat again. I can’t count this as a real run. Emotions got the better of me. This would have been a 3.25 30 minute run had it not been for digging in the snow and trying to outrun my fear.

Blind Faith

gr4c5Leave a comment

peaceWhat exactly does that mean, blind faith? Is it stupid trust? Is it unknowing confidence? Is it naive hope? What does it mean to have blind faith in something you don’t believe in? Such are the questions. Where are the answers? I am too headstrong for reasoning.

You accused me of something so blind, so stupid, so unknowing and naive. Where was the faith? The trust? The confidence? The hope that I would never steer you wrong. To do you wrong is to do an army of people wrong. Don’t get me wrong, but an army of people more precious than what I mean to you. That might not be saying much, but that’s what I mean without saying too much.

I have given up trying to be meaner than how angry I really am. It’s like too sweet frosting on a cake made without sugar. The compensation just doesn’t cut it. Proportionally, it doesn’t make sense. At the end of the day I find myself not really caring. That’s not mean, just real. Why get fired up over something I have no fire for? It’s like the person who hates without knowing. Hating just because it seems like the right easy thing to do. In the end, when it’s all said and done, was that hate worth anything to the hater? Not really sure. Wasted energy some would say. For a life too short, I would add.

What exactly am I trying to say? I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll never know. This is what came to mind when I thought about you. This is what popped out when I opened my mind to think. So, in the spirit of blind faith I say have faith no more. “Open up your eyes. See me for what I am. Cast in iron I won’t break and I won’t bend.” ~ Headstrong, 10,000 Maniacs.  Words by Natalie Merchant.

Can’t Explain

gr4c51 Comment

This guy looks like he wants to talk to me. I could sense him leaning on the bar, leaning closer, trying to catch my eye. My friend had asked if I would be okay while she smoked and even though I want to save her lungs and say no, I nod. Really, truthfully, I am nervous knowing he might try to talk to me as soon as she is gone. It has taken me four songs to decide I’m deaf in this rock and roll soaked bar. The bass pulsates under my feet, the drums vibrates my spine. I feel the music and it drowns out my ears. The guy inches closer. Please don’t talk to me because I won’t be able to figure out what you are saying. I won’t even read your lips. Please don’t stand so close to me. I flash a golden wedding ring and turn a cold shoulder. Not confident I pull out my phone and start a wordy conversation. Can I tell him I’m avoiding getting hit on? Can I tell him I’m using him to ignore the subtle advances of another? I didn’t mean to talk to him or him. I wasn’t going to go there because I promised myself I would leave well enough alone. He and they are well enough and I need to be left alone.
My friend returns and the music gets louder. I sip my wine and look casual and in control. Despite myself I keep talking to my phone. Like a drug I cannot stop. I am confident with him because I can ignore everything else. It’s a game we play. Lying. For good measure I send another message. Suddenly, this guy is tapping my shoulder and mouthing something under the music. I shake my head. I don’t understand you just like I knew I wouldn’t. He says it again. Something about do you dance? I don’t. No, I don’t. Not anymore. I am rooted to my barstool. My wine glass is stuck in my hand. I tap my ring against the glass and turn away.

A Month in the Life

gr4c5Leave a comment

You could say my obsession is my abode. You could say I’ve been too wrapped up in work. You might even say I have been a little fixated on health issues. All of the above I say. All of the above. Luckily, the proof is only in the house. I haven’t been keeping tabs on work or the workings of me. But, here’s the house and how it’s been:

2/23 Closing day. Breasts aside, we are a go.
2/24 Where to begin?
2/25 We have a phone
2/26 Get another truckload from the apartment
2/27 Get another truckload from the apartment
2/28 Get another truckload from the apartment
3/1 Seller here. First visitors. Washer/dryer are in
3/2 First snow storm. How do they handle snow around here?
3/3 Get another truckload from the apartment
3/4 Did first load of laundry
3/5 First cat puke – Get another truckload from the apartment
3/6 Change the freaking locks already
3/7 First day alone
3/8 Get another truckload from the apartment
3/9 Cat comes out
3/10 Ran on tread for the first time – mail didn’t go
3/11 Mail didn’t go
3/12 Mail didn’t go
3/13 mail went- get another truckload from the apartment
3/14 Double apartment trip – in-laws see the place
3/15 Dining room set came – faucet trouble
3/16 Get another truckload from the apartment
3/17 Hate not having the dish
3/18 Really hate not having the dish
3/19 Loving the microwave
3/20 Get another truckload from the apartment – Hello Coldplay
3/21 Get another truckload from the apartment – living room end tables arrive
3/22 Get another truckload from the apartment – Zeke comes home
3/23 This kitchen isn’t working
3/24 This kitchen isn’t working
3/25 This kitchen isn’t working
3/26 Thanks for the manuals
3/27 Get another truckload from the apartment
3/28 fixed the shed window – new security system
3/29 Homeshow
3/30 This kitchen might work
3/31 can we get rid of more boxes?
4/1 Hello chocolate for cheaper!
4/2 You shouldn’t have…
4/3 The first turtles come out. Art comes in!
4/4 More turtles
4/5 Get another truckload from the apartment (when will it end?)
4/6 Art gets its place

Magic is Coming

gr4c56 Comments

Sean Magic
I have been known to get lazy, to get uninspired, to get quiet, withdraw and quietly disappear. When that happens nothing wakes me, nothing moves me, nothing touches me, nothing makes me anything. Period. Such was my complacent situation recently. People would text. I would untext right back. People would call. I wouldn’t hang up because I didn’t pick up. Invitations would come in. My silence would go right back out. It’s not that I wanted to ignore you. It’s just that I couldn’t help myself. You didn’t need me. And I knew it.

Today is a whole new day. the sun is shining. The clouds have blown away. I not only accepted an invitation I made one of my own. And Magic is coming. For those of you who don’t know, Magic is the name of Sean Rowe’s newest album. Long, long, long anticipated album, I should say. I have been looking forward to this since forever. Forever and a day. Now, it has a drop date. It has an estimated time of arrival. Soon it will be here. Here’s the tracklist (and to think I almost said setlist – don’t I wish):

  1. Surprise
  2. Time to Think
  3. Night
  4. Jonathan
  5. Old Black Dodge
  6. Wet
  7. The Walker
  8. American
  9. Wrong Side of the Bed
  10. The Long Haul

I have to tell you, Jonathan and Wet are my two favorites. Not that I don’t appreciate everything else on the album. I do, I do. (Wrong Side of the Bed and Surprise are my very-close-to-favorite-but-still-second fav songs). It’s just that Wet leaves me breathless and now, having heard the studio version of Jonathan I have chills. Chills and goosebumps to be specific. That song alone is magic. Pure magic. Never mind what happens when it’s more than just the song alone. I don’t want to focus on the singer when the songwriting is more than brilliant, more than amazing. As always, it’s the words that get me, the words that keep me.

I know for a fact I am clearing my schedule for 5/15/09 and 5/23/09 – two Sean gigs “locally.” I have had an awakening. Thanks, Sean.

Just Like You

gr4c5Leave a comment

I met someone today who blew me away. Picked me up, spun me around like a hurricane and got me going in the right direction again. As everyone knows it’s far too easy for me to be angry, to hate, to be glass half empty (and cracked). Far too easy for me to be Negative Nelly. Bitchy bitchy bitch bitch. Then came him and the hurricane. Here’s how it went. I complained, he came back with compassion. I bitched, his was a brighter view. I ranted, he rallied. I was negative, he said never say never. I smirked, he smiled. Back and forth we sparred.

Take this story – I have a hanger-on. Someone who just won’t go away. I was feeling cynical and snide. Loved to be evil, warming up to the hellish conclusion. When I was done I thought he would agree. I thought he would share in my negativity. Instead, he smiled. Smiled and offered me this HaveYouThoughtAboutThisWay? different angle. He cocked his head to the side and said, “from everything you told me I can’t see what the big deal is. I don’t know Your Problem so I can’t judge except to say I don’t see the problem.” It’s the “I don’t know…so I can’t judge…” part that got me. Why am I quick to say weird? Why am I eager to say wrong? Exactly what is the problem?

I’m sorry I have been so mean to you when you weren’t looking. I’m sorry I painted a bad picture when really you are a masterpiece. I’m sorry to have confused you with something sinister. I take it back.

To my new friend. Thank you for being compassionate. For being caring without knowing. For listening to me judge without a jury. While you drove me crazy with your “to be fair” sentence starters I see where you are coming from. And to be fair, I want to be just like you.

Guilty Feelings

gr4c54 Comments

“I’m guilty just the same.
Sometimes you’re needed badly so please come back again…”
~Duran Duran Hold Back the Rain

The last month has been a weird sort of hell. While the house has been awesome, getting settled hasn’t been all that fun. We are still moving out at the same time as moving in. Still. We are still living out of boxes. Still. Yeah, yeah. Don’t tell me because I’ve heard it before. These Things Take Time. I should be wearing the words as a slogan across my chest. Or tattooed on my forehead. Something. Yeah, yeah. I know the words. It’s not like I haven’t moved (17 times) before. My frustration lies in the lack of time I have to dedicate. It takes time but I have no time to donate.

Last week They were on campus. They are the same They I talked about in my Entitled to Tell You So blog. They stormed the gates again and this time I took it personally. Here’s another yeah yeah moment. I KNOW they weren’t talking about MY job performance. I KNOW they weren’t talking about ME when the listed the library as a concern, as a weakness to the institution. Nothing they announced was new. So, why do I take it so personally? I’ll tell you why. I have been busting my azz to say We Need This- We Need That. My words went nowhere. But, talk is cheap. Words are well, just words. think of all those sayings – put your money where your mouth is, talk is cheap, actions speak louder than words…blahblahblah. I felt like I was screaming into the wind when I should have been learning to harness that wind and fly. DO something.

I have stressed so much about the upcoming, inevitable failings that I have blown off friends and family. I owe my mother a phone call. I owe my nephew an apology. I owe just as much as I woe. My head has been up my azz looking for the sh!t that makes work work. If that makes any sense. Because now that it’s done I feel dumb. I worried for nothing because They didn’t tell me anything new, nothing I didn’t already know.

Now it’s done. I’m done with the rant, too. I got it out. I got over it. Now, it’s time to do something. It’s time to start flying.

Gone Daddy Gone

gr4c51 Comment

Last night was one of those toss and turn nights. Insomnia, my old friend. Back for another round of fun with me. Maybe it was the bug with a million legs crawling across the floor right before bed. Maybe it was the midnight wind that howled. Maybe it was the dream of him. Doesn’t matter which. Sleep was gone.

Okay, so there weren’t a million legs on the bug. More than eight is more than enough legs for me. When it came running out from under the cat I was running for higher ground, screaming like the girl that I am. Kisa killed it with knightly heroics. I still crouched above the toilet while brushing my teeth, afraid to let my toes touch the tiles.
Then, there was the wind I didn’t know was coming. Who ordered this wind? It banged up against the house and made the strange sounds of an unfamilar place that much weirder.
But, the dream was the weirdest of all.

I remember telling him all I wanted to do was tell him this one thing. Just one thing, I kept saying. We got tangled in a wedding procession. Joyous music crashing around us. Noise. Lips moving without sound. Really, all I wanted was a quiet place to tell him this one little thing. He disappeared for awhile and came back wearing excuses, babbling reasons. Really, I didn’t care. I just wanted to say one thing and let him go. It took forever and when, at last at last he was standing quiet before me, I couldn’t get the words out. I couldn’t say that one little thing I wanted to say which was to say No one talks to me the way you do. But, like the bug and the wind, when I woke the words were gone. Gone daddy gone.

Too Funny

gr4c52 Comments

I feel hung over. Like I have been drinking for days. My sides hurt from laughing too much. I call it my too funny moment. One Friday night was Rebecca’s show and ice cream with the girls (when we finally got around to getting there). Different conversations happening all at once. Laughter blending like in with the chatter like a symphony. It sounded chaotic, out of tune, in sync, it sounded perfect. I think I’m the only one who finished her ice cream.

A day later and I’m talking to a far and aways near girlfriend. She’s making me laugh with ridiculous stories of body odor out of control, or was it perfume? Either way I can’t stop the tears of hilarity. I match her with one of my own olfactory woes (guys, don’t wear Axe brand anything). Again, I laugh until my sides ache. Too funny.

I like these laughing moments. I don’t get them enough but I need more of them. Probably my best source for laughter (should we really want to torture ourselves with past bizarre incidents and entanglements) is less than a mile away. I like having her close. Her laugh is solid and true. No fake giggles or coy chuckles. There is no other way to describe it other than to say she laughs with her heart. Just the other day as we weaved our way through the aisles of a craft store she recounted the “limo driver gun story” for me. I couldn’t get the details right for my husband a week earlier, “I don’t know – something about a box of cheap condoms, a gun, two gay men, and a limo driver. I can’t remember.”  I had forgotten the tulips. Just to hear her reliving the story made me laugh out loud. Winding through the fake flowers, colored pencils and skeins of yarn I couldn’t help but have that too funny moment.

Bob and the Vandals

gr4c5Leave a comment

I would have liked to have known Bob Dylan in 1962. Right before things started to get crazy for him and even crazier for the nation. I would have liked him as a friend. Maybe less for his music and more for his personality. I liked his sense of humor and can’t help but wonder if he has it still. Are you still funny, Bob? Are ya? I liked his unwillingness to be painted into a corner or labeled like a cheap suit doused with cheaper cologne. I admired his tenacity to keep singing when so-called fans started to protest against his electric sound. I laughed at his ability to dodge questions about being a protesting artist with a hidden agenda or unclear message. What are you trying to say, Bob? ‘I don’t know’ seemed like the perfect answer and he used it all the time. He put everyone from reporters to Joan in their places. Take that! All that was left was (and still is) the whining about how they didn’t understand him (and still don’t).
Imagine being able to write lyrics so crazy good that they flow out of you nonstopping, unstopable. You write so well you can’t keep your own sentences straight. Can’t remember the difference between what you wanted to say and what you actually did say. Don’t even recognize yourself on the radio. I would give anything to write like that for just one day. I’d write the perfect letter. I know who I’d send it to. He’d have to read it because of its perfection. He wouldn’t be able to help himself. Since I can’t write like that, I won’t. Instead, I will listen to Bob. I’ll listen to the vandals take his words and run with them. Tangle them up in blue, steal them for their own. Brilliant by default. Brilliant because of Bob.

Confessional: I wrote this back in August (on the 6th to be exact). I am reallllly pressed for time today so I’m cheating and sending this one up – unfinished.

Chocolate for Cheaper

gr4c53 Comments

“Chocolate for cheaper” is what my husband sang when we drove away from just making a huge deal. We were both happy, giddy even, to have found exactly what we were looking for – for less. Don’t you just love a bargain and the way it makes you feel when you score one?
Let me put the reverse lights on – several weeks ago we went on a hunt to find furniture. We couldn’t remember exact colors so we played it safe and just searched for style. What we would like to sit on, lay on, jump on, make out on, even sulk behind if need be. Some style that would fit our lifestyle. After a full several days of sitting, laying, testing, and deciding we thought we knew what we liked. Finally we moved in and could decide on color as well: chocolate. Something rich, something dark. Everything was coming together until we visited Rayless and Flan-again. We liked the sales woman. I will say that. Donny and Marie couldn’t have been more helpful. She bent over backwards to help us…until the manager stepped in. “Can’t get that style in that color. Never mind what the tag says. It’s another $100 to get that color. It’s brown sugar or nothing. The brown sugar is the only thing on sale. Get it in another color and you pay full price in addition to changing the color and that’s another $100, remember?  No ifs ands or buts. That is it.” With heads hanging low and exhaustion nipping at our heels, we took the defeated road home.
Three days later Kisa says to me, “I think I solved our problems. Get in the truck.” So, off to LazyGirl we went. As soon as we were in the door we asked, “Do you have this style? In this color? For this price?” Yes. Yes. Follow me. No. Cheaper. Weaving through the aisles of couches and recliners we stopped short. Made the sales woman turn around. “What? What do you mean cheaper?” When she was done explaining we exclaimed, “that’s $700 cheaper than Rayless!” We know, she said with a smile. Are you still interested?

Like children playing hooky from school we ordered the furniture. Feeling like we got away with something we signed on the dotted line before the numbers could change. We hurried through the paperwork thinking it was too good to be true. We waited for the admittance We Made a Mistake. None came.

“We got chocolate for cheaper. We got chocolate for cheaper!” my husband sang as we drove home. Yes, we did.