She'll grow into them . . .

This past Sunday my BFF called and asked if I wanted to go shopping with her to get her daughters new shoes at the Outlet mall. I enthusiastically said yes, only after confessing that I had been sick and if she didn’t want me to go for fear of getting the girls sick, I would, sniff, totally understand. “Oh” she said, “you have the same thing Matt (husband) had this week, they’ve already been exposed.” YEA!!! I get to leave the house and re-join the land of the living!

So we head up to the Outlets, about a 40 minute ride, which, when it’s just the BFF and me, is a quick and often laugh filled ride. This time, however, there was a four year old and one year old in the car, so needless to say, Aunt Jill had to keep her Sailor Swearing mouth in check – which meant it was a LONG ride to the outlet. Given the choice, I would rather ride with my parents and talk about my sex-capades or lack there of, than keeping it PG or trying to decipher what a four year old is trying to say. Seriously, I think I came out of the wound talking (well, not really – mom had to pay a speech therapist to get me to talk properly – money WELL spent) but honest to God – how do you mommies do it? And the constant interrupting? Ummm… I’m trying to tell your mom about my current boy/man problems Miss Thing!

So we finally get to the Outlet Mall and make our way to Stride Rite shoes. Yep, this is going to be LOADS of fun for me. A shoe store for CHILDRENS SHOES – what kind of HELL did I just walk into. But wait. There are WOMENS shoes in here too!! And they’re on . . . SALE!!! I immediately run to the sandals and start searching for my size, when I realize that I’m supposed to be watching the four year old. Oops. Yeah, that “mommy gene,” I don’t have it. My friend looks at me with that “I brought you with us so you could help me” look and I drop the sale priced sandal and take over as Aunt Jill, keeper of the spastic four year old. So, instead of searching for MY SIZE shoe – we searched for AVERY’S size and I’ve got to say, it was fun. (and inexpensive since I didn’t buy shoes for ME!) Of course it’s MY job to get her the shoes (mainly because she is a bundle of energy and is destroying the displays by herself.) So, I’m finding her cute shoes to try on and as I come back to help her, she informs me that she needs NO HELP AT ALL from ME to put the shoes on for her – SHE CAN DO IT! (This was just painful watching her over and over again put the shoe on the wrong foot.)

Finally, we find a pair of shoes that both Avery and mom like and they were on sale for $12.99!! Aunt Jill ROCKS –yes, I can find a sale price in any size! Personally, I thought the shoes were a little big, but according to mom – “she’ll grow into them.” She’ll grow into them. Four words that I don’t think I’ve uttered since I was four years old perhaps. “She’ll grow into them.”

Those words stayed with me as we made our way into the ‘grown up’ store next door – The Gap. As mom and the one year old went to look for clothes for daddy, Avery and I went STRAIGHT to Aunt Jilly’s side of the store. Now, shopping with a four year old is NOT easy and I had to make it a game to keep her occupied and to keep me from screaming at her. So, I make her my personal assistant. She (and I) loved it!! She felt like a big girl and I had someone to hold onto everything I wanted to try on. I even taught her how to hold everything with both arms so the clothes wouldn’t drag on the floor – since she’s only 2 ½ -3 feet tall – this was crucial.

We head back to the fitting room and of course Miss Thing wants to come with me and not go with her mom. Now, I’m usually in the fitting room alone with only my self to criticize the view in the mirror. Today, I’m with myself, my self loathing thoughts, AND a four year old who is BRUTALLY honest. The first thing I try on is a tank tap. As I take off my shirt, Miss Honesty starts to giggle. My self loathing thoughts are candy-ass compared to a four year olds giggle. When an innocent little four year old laughs out loud as you take off your shirt, it’s time to call it a day.

So I finish with a pair of black dress pants, remembering what my friend said about Avery’s shoes “she’ll grow into them.” As I check the fit I think ‘not bad.’ ‘The diet is working and after a few more pounds, these will look even better.’ Funny thing about life. As a kid we can’t wait to ‘grow into our clothes or shoes’ and we can’t wait to get bigger. As an adult, we are constantly trying to ‘slim down’ to get into our clothes and get smaller.

I did buy the pants. They made my ass look fantastic and as a rule, if the ass looks good – buy the pants!

The B word

So Dave has been cooking for me (and our friend Jerry) – and yes, I’m soooooooooooo loving it. And, he's a pretty DAMN good cook!! His mother has a HUGE garden and last week sent us lots and lots of FRESHLY GROWN veggies – that Dave grills up for us on my new GRIDDLE/GRILLE that I recently bought at my favorite store Target. Now, however, Dave wants to take over my finances. Well, not takeover, because I’d be ALL for that. No, he wants to put me on a . . . on a . . . (breathing hard here) on a BUDGET.

First he’s got me on a DIET and even though I am willingly going along with the diet business, I’m not so sure I can handle a BUDGET with HIM. God, just typing the word makes my stomach queasy. Or is it the 3 Musketeers bar I just had? (It was a “miniature” bar – don’t call me and tell me how much sugar I just consumed.) Yes, that call out is to my dear friend Dave.

You see, my dearest Dave is a wee-bit OCD. And while on this diet I am constantly getting updates on the amounts of sugar, carbs, calories, grams of fat in any one item that I may stuff into my face (or what he has regrettably eaten that day.) Now, if we go forward and I let him put me on a . . . . . BUDGET. (Seriously, feeling faint right now.)

God, on a BUDGET I’d have to answer to everything I spend a single copper penny on. I’m just not sure I’m ready to go there. I’ve never, ever been good with money and I’m even worse when someone tries to control my spending. But, given my current financial status (disaster) I’m pretty sure it’s my only salvation. Oh god . . . I think I need to lie down. . . .

OR – share with all of you what I bought this past weekend at the local Art Fair. What? I proudly and FULLY support the ARTS in my community. And, um hello it was an Art Fair and that not only meant cool art-sy stuff but it meant FAIR FOOD – like funnel cakes (which I didn’t have) and corn dogs (ok – I had one corn dog).

Ok – so anyway – I did buy a few things – had to have a pair of CUTE earrings and a necklace to match. And I got the most fun Hummingbird feeder that was made out of a Tab glass bottle! Didn’t you just love Tab?? Well, I did – and it’s all I drank in college (well, before and after going to the bar) so it brought back good memories.

I didn’t spend that much and it was within my “spending budget” that I’ve devised for myself. With all the veggies we got from Dave’s mom, I had extra grocery money to spend!! Bonus!!

Anyway – these are the artists that I’m loving right now:

http://www.sassysacks.net/ – didn’t buy a purse from her, but soooooooooo want to.

www.janamargeson.com/id1.html – I got her “signature copyrighted piece” only mine was like a lime green instead of blue that’s shown on the site. I got the matching earrings also on the page.

http://www.powersfineartphoto.com/ – his work was AMAZING and made me want to go home and use my $600 Digital SLR that I bought back in January and haven’t used yet. Hmmm.. maybe it IS time for a BUDGET.

http://www.jenncole.com/ – she had the most fun and funky jewelry and home decorations. I want to quit my job and be her.

If you visit any of these sites – tell them that I sent ya!!

I wish I may, I wish I might, get the ONE wish I wish tonight and every night . . .

One Wish: If you had one wish, what would it be?

Well, since I’m a bit of a selfish little bitch, I’d want more than one wish – really, if I’m wishing here – I’d wish for more wishes. Hmmmmm.. makes you applaud my mother’s reasoning for re-sending me to pre-school to learn how to share – amongst other things.

Anyway, back to my wish-es. I wish I was skinny. No, I wish I didn’t love food as much as I do – then, I’d be skinnier. No, I wish I liked to work out – A LOT – then I could eat because I love food so much. No, I wish I had a high metabolism – then I wouldn’t have to work out AND I could eat what ever my rapid beating heart desired - because let’s face it, who really likes to work out anyway? For those of you that do – I’m so not liking you (or believing you) right now.

Another wish? I wish I could sing. Out loud. Not just in my car or to my dog (which I’m sure hurts her ears more than ANYONES.) I wish people actually WANTED to hear me (my mom doesn’t count either) sing. I’m totally into the “Wicked” Soundtrack right now that I just want to sing out loud in my cubicle (and quiet frankly, I’m pretty sure it will happen) along with GaLinda to the song “Popular.” I’ve been ‘shushed’ so many times this week because I talk to loud that I’m pretty sure bursting out in song will have even more negative ramifications. Hmmm.. could I be written up? Or, maybe they’d send me home. THAT’S really wouldn’t be such a bad thing. I’m going to start warming up my pipes. . . .

But here’s my wish of all wishes – The MOTHER WISH if you will:

I wish I had a tall drink of water that would be there every morning when I wake up, lying next to me. I got a tiny morsel of this last week – but it lasted for approximately a minute – and now, I’m craving it!! Unfortunately this morsel was not quite the taste I was looking for so I’ll have to keep searching the ‘menu’ until I find that perfect meal (er – I mean man, see? It all comes back to food with me). I’m tired and a little bitter too, of seeing and watching everyone around me in love and holding each other and just “being with” one another. I want that too!! I want it dammit! I need it I CRAVE IT!!

I want a man in my bed AND my life. As a single and pretty self sufficient woman, I forgot how NICE it was to wake up with another human being lying next to me. I mean, I love my dog and all, but there is no comparison to human flesh on human flesh intertwined breathing on one another. For the first time in a very long, long time, I woke up with an ACTUAL smile on face. God, it felt so gooooo-oood that I almost wish it wouldn’t have happened at all because I want it full-time.

To those of you that have this – I hate you (just a little bit.) I covet not your man, but your relationship. Don’t take it for granted . . . .

This is just too funny not to share . . .

Dinner and Small Talk . . .

Dave and I just got back from dinner at Tangier - we should have just stayed at my house and cooked the food Dave bought at Giant Eagle because it would have tasted MUCH better. Really, shouldn't an $80 dinner plus a $20 tip taste a little better than the 'All you can eat dinner buffet' at the Golden Corral?? But that is not the reason for this post.

While we waited for the Chef (I use the term lightly) from Tangier to return from Aldi's grocery store with our steak, shrimp, crab cake and Grouper and prepare it for our dining pleasure, I recapped the events of my work day. I attended a class called "Managing Interpersonal Relationships" or MIR at work and tried to share my new knowledge with Dave by explaining that I fall into the Amiable personality quadrant while he falls under the Driver or Expressive quadrant. Amiables, I try to explain, have a need to tell a story, and don't like to be rushed, bullied or pressured. We don't like unreasonable deadlines and expectations but we are great team builders, excellent coaches and basically just want to make the workplace a fun and comfortable environment.

I'm in the middle of this explanation when the Expressive in Dave comes out. Expressives are also people oriented, like to have fun, are achievement oriented and risk takers. They think and talk fast and want EVERYONE around them to do the same, as they don't have the attention span for lots of details or stories. Which is when Dave says to me "That's exactly me, I want a conversation without all the bullshit, just give me a verb and a noun, that's all I want."

So, being the Amiable that I am I responded with:




"Fuck you."

What can I say? I've got a little expressive in me and wanted to over achieve - so I gave him a verb and a PRO-noun.

Dead Mouse! Dead Mouse! Dead Mouse!!

I just went out to my garage for something and as I'm searching, my eyes land on a DEAD MOUSE laying on a shelf in my garage!!! This is the SECOND dead animal I've had to deal with this weekend!! I'm MOVING - well, I'm not going back into the garage for at least 3 days (which is how long I'll be gone on my next trip.)

Saturday morning -after a long and oh so fun night of drinking with two BFFs - I'm woken up by my dearest dog, Daisy, who wants to go out side. Hungover, I oblige her by slowly crawling out of bed, go pee, take more Advil, stumble downstairs and open the back door for her to go "out." I retreat to my couch, flip on the TV and let the Dr. (Pepper - diet) and Advil work their magic. An hour (ok 3) later, I'm annoyed enough by the constant barking of my dearest (obnoxious) Daisy and stagger to the door only I don't see her precious face waiting to be let in, I see a DEAD Robin lying on it's back at the door.

Let me tell you - hung over and having to deal with a "fresh" dead bird on a Saturday morning (afternoon) is NOT the way to start your weekend. I'm not sure if Daisy had anything to do with this death or not - although she was quite interested in it when I had to pick it up (gloves on up to my ears and I used a rake and LOTS of plastic bags (sorry environment) so as to not catch any bird flu (or touch it on my bare skin anywhere.)

I had just gotten over the dead bird sight - and now, I have a dead mouse to deal with in my garage. Thank god Dave is coming over to cook me dinner tonight - I'll make him take care of it.

This, this is when a single girl really needs a man in the house (among other things) to take care of the rodents, bugs and other things "ick."

Ok - I think I'll be ok - I'm going to stay in the house until Dave arrives and then order him to search and recover the dead mouse (to the trash can).

Wish me luck on a more "lively" day . . .

Shopping should be fun - right?

With a blog name like “Shopgirl,” one would assume that I love to shop - right? (Yes, I know what happens when you a s s u m e anything - don't go there.)
It’s true, I do love to shop and I also “shop” for employees for my company. (see http://missdaisydog.blogspot.com/2008/05/road-trip.html for my “work/life” story.) So yes, I love to shop - for just about anything except groceries - which is weird since I'm a bit of a "foodie" and love, love, love to eat.

Well, last night I remembered one more thing that I HATE to shop for – BRAS. Let me say that again. I HATE TO SHOP FOR BRAS!! I don’t care how pretty you make ‘em with lace and satin or give ‘em names like ‘demi’, ‘balconett’, ‘full coverage’, ‘convertible’ or ‘racer back’, I HATE shopping for bras and when I do, I buy as many as I can afford. Want to know the Secret that Victoria is keeping? Answer: shopping for ‘over the shoulder boulder holders’ is a not fun! She dresses it up in frilly pink and white and adds some fruity lotions and potions to make us forget why we hate shopping for bras in the first place.

And for for any man folk who accidentally stumbled to this site and are not well-versed with the proper fitting (rather than tearing off) of bras, not all bras are created equal and price does not matter either. And while I’m at it – all bra manufacturers out there – listen up, if you make a bra in several different ‘styles’ can you keep the cup size the same in each? I swear, I tried on over 30 (I’m not lying either) different bras from just ONE manufacturer and each and every goddamn one fit different. And that was just from ONE brand name!

I had to take in over 30 different bras, because a: there were THAT many to choose from, and b: I was shopping by myself so I didn’t have anyone to run and get me another size. I was wishing so badly that my mom was with me – even though I hate shopping with her – because moms are the only ones that will stay with you while you’re going through this madness. Best girlfriends grow tired of this process really quickly – usually because in my case, my girlfriends can find the perfect bra in one fitting and ta-(ta) da they’re done. Bitches! (I mean that in the most endearing way.)

So there I am, in the fitting room with my 30+ bras sweating to death because once I have the bra on, I have to then re-dress myself to see how it looks underneath my shirt. I need to see if it accentuates the ‘girls’ in all the right places while keeping the ‘back fat’ to a minimum. (This being one of the many reasons why I’m starting the diet again) This whole process of trying on bra after bra and re-dressing is just exhausting. Oh, and don’t forget seeing myself naked from the waist up in front of a 3-way mirror, there’s a sight that I just can’t get enough of. Add to it that I’m alone and have no one to bitch at or with, makes it all the more agonizing.

I only made it through that first round of 30 bras before I gave up and took the two (because they were buy one get one half off) that fit the “best” and fled to the shoe department. What? Sue me, I needed relief. I’m surprised I didn’t go straight to Coldstone.