My Own Private....

....Idaho?
Noooooooo.

.....Hell?
Not exactly.

.....CVS?
dingdingding! You win the grand prize of an overnighter locked inside the store!

It was about 9:45 p.m. last night. I arrive at the corner drugstore to pick up some toiletries. I wander around the store looking at universal remotes, pumice scrub for my biscuit feet, infant Tylenol, children's vitamins. I peruse the magazines and "Higher Love" by Steve Winwood & Chaka Khan comes on the overhead. It's a fave, so I am subvocalizing as I drool over Janet Jackson in EBONY magazine. Then I think, "Is My Little One ready for meats?" So I stroll over to the baby food aisle and start reading labels and analyzing 1's, 2's and 3's.

I throw a couple of jars of baby food in with my toiletries and go to check out. As I approach the checkout counter toward the front of the store, the carts are blocking the entrance. No one is around.

All the lights are still on.

The music is still playing. "Saiiiiiilinnnnng takes me away to where I'm going..."

I am totally alone.

It is 10:10 p.m. and everyone is gone but me.

No sweeping.

No re-stocking shelves.

No counting the drawers.

No announcement of "we'll be closing in five minutes. Please gather your items and proceed to the check out counter".

Just me and a whole store all to myself. Even a pharmacy!

I stood there with the hugest smile in disbelief. I have been locked in CVS! Everyone is gone except me!! How could they not see me?! Didn't they notice a car still parked in the parking lot?!

This only happens in the movies! This can't be happening to me! So I strut to the elusive manager's door that is not-so-hidden behind the giant wall of knock-off perfumes. I rap sternly on the door. No answer.

"Well, I have to be close to the money. I have to be somewhere that is close to a sensor that would set off an alarm," I strategize. So I walk towards the carts. Still a radio playing. Hmmm. I walk again to the manger's "office" and there it goes. The in-store alarm is activated. I'll be saved!!

Look out the windows. Traffic going by in it's normal pattern. I call Husband. No answer, but I leave a message. I am giggling at the fact that being stuck in CVS all night can't be all that bad. There's ice cream, foot spa stuff, soda, chips, apple pies, stomach medicine, XANAX, reading material, a bathroom, toothbrushes.

I decide to call a friend of mine who lives in the neighborhood. I wasn't quite sure WHY I was calling her because after all, what could she do? Come and stare at me from the outside? And laugh? I mean, really....

About 10:30, the security company arrived. So did a fire truck. 9-1-1 was called twice on my behalf. I was flattered, but embarrassed. But why should *I* be embarrassed? After all *they* are the ones who didn't secure their store! I mean, really....

My loving friend (who says she needed this wild night out on the town) arrived and we communicate via cell phone looking at each other through the glass. I had to giggle because I could've heard her voice and read her lips just as easily as we were talking on the phone. Why was I even on the phone?? I mean, really.....

I'm waiting for the security guard to call the store manager. They hook up and the store manager lives about an hour away. So a shift supervisor is called to come rescue me from the clutches of "as seen on TV" goods.

Said shift supervisor actually had the nerve to say, "I seen your car in the parking lot and said to myself, 'I hope there ain't no customer still in there'." (I hope I punctuated that correctly!)

So....in the end, the security guard laughingly affirmed that this sort of thing happens quite often (scary). I got in my friend's car who took me to another store to buy my stuff. Then I returned to my own private....home.

SnaggletEEth

So, Anthony and Greg Wiggle were tenderly pulled from the clutches of My Eldest's gums on Monday. Anthony in the morning; Greg in the evening.

"Huh?" you say.

My Eldest has named all of her loose teeth. When the first one was loose, she called it Loosey-Goosey which she then associated with, "Hey! That's like Lucy from Peanuts!". So, loose tooth #1 was dubbed Lucy. My Eldest proceeded to name each subsequent tooth in her mouth after each Peanuts character (even the little red-haired girl and Pig Pen were represented). Snoopy fell out 2nd. Those were way back in January.

The top middle teeth have been loose since January also. Only in the last few weeks have they become really wiggly. "Keep wiggling those teeth! They'll fall out before long." Suddenly another association, "Hey! That's like The Wiggles! Anthony and Greg are my favorites. Let's name them Anthony and Greg, Mommy". Thusly, two of the four Wiggles long descent from My Eldest's fleshy pink gums have been vacated and were carefully tucked under the Clifford pillow for a visit from the Tooth Fairy.

Before I start this TMI paragraph of my blog, it's important that you understand that we are a slightly medically-knowledgeable family. My Eldest has a interest in how bodily things work. With that being said, here goes: My sister-in-law and parents-in-law were watching My Eldest and My Little One )while My Husband and I enjoyed the Cowboys home-opening win against the Redskins live at Texas Stadium - the rare date. Mom says to My Eldest, "you should try to pull out that tooth before you go to bed tonight so you won't risk swallowing it. If you swallow it, you won't have anything to give to the Tooth Fairy and she won't come to see you." My Eldest, who *always* has the answer or the alternative, replies, "Well, when make a BM I won't flush the toilet. That way the Tooth Fairy can just pull it out of the potty."

Good thinking.

Now back to Monday morning. My Eldest was eating a small bagel with cream cheese for breakfast. I'm in the back of the house getting ready for work. I hear a shrill of excitement and boards of pergo squeaking as she quickly runs back and screams, "Mommy! Look at my TOOTH!!" Anthony is hanging on for dear life, and My Eldest has the one of the wildest snaggle teeth I've ever seen. "Pull it on out, sugar!" I encourage her as chills race through my body. She pulls and pulls. Nothing yet.

"Do you want me to video tape you pulling your tooth out?" I ask.
"Yeah." She seriously answers as she concentrates on the Anthony Wiggle Snaggletooth.

I leave to find the camera. She follows, hand in mouth still.

Camera's rolling. She starts telling some story about something completely unrelated to Anthony Snaggletooth. I boss her, "Get on with gettin' on! My batteries are about to die!"

She closes her eyes. Wiggles and pulls. She opens her eyes and without much ado, she just shows it to the camera. "I did it!" Now the excitement sets in.

And the blood flows.

"I did it, Grandma!" she runs over to her grandmother who is holding My Little One. I'm feeling tears well up. "Go show Daddy!"

More excitement. We are all running around the house like wild banshees celebrating the loss of Anthony Wiggle Snaggletooth.

The day passes. It's about 5:30 p.m. and I am preparing to leave the office. My phone rings and it's My Eldest!

"Geth what happened, Mommy?! I losth my other tooth!" My Eldest reports with restrained joy. Her toothless way of speaking is noticeable.

"OH MY GOODNESS! *TWO* teeth in *ONE* day?! That's so crazy, honey! Oh, I can't wait to see you!!" I hurry and scooch out to my car as quickly as possible. But, before I hang up and dart out the door, My Eldest (who knows I blog) exclaims: "Mommy. You HAVE to write about this!"

So, here it is.

My work here is done.

SnaggletEEth

Black is Beautiful

I have been told that I was stereotyping in my previous blog about wanting to be a black woman. I assure you that I am not intending any disrespect!

Why does stereotyping have a negative connotation? Why can't it be considered a tribute?

This question was going to be my original lead-in to this new Black is Back entry, however, I gave a "preview" to my (beautiful black) friend and she unexpectedly answered what I originally intended as a rhetorical question. She said, "..because some of it's not true." Good point. So I have a new opening:

Tribute to Beautiful Black Women

I *still* wish I was a black woman. They have the greatest skin. Why? Good pigmentation -- it hides their age exquisitely! Usually you can't tell how old a black woman is until she's 100 years old!! I LOVE THAT! Here I am applying magic potions and chanting mantras to hide my delicate 35-ness. It's no wonder that when a black woman sees another black woman -- whether she knows her or not -- tells her how good she looks. I am fascinated at how the black community seem to know each other and relate to one another as if they knew each other their whole lives. "Girrrrrl, yo' hair looks so good!"

And their HAIR - how I love the HAIR. Even My Eldest is fascinated with braids & weaves. At church a couple of times, there have been young girls who are wearing their hair in about 5 twisted braids (I think I heard this referred to as "platted up" -- apologies if I have that incorrect), wrapped in big ole bubble gumball rubber bands and a tiny plasic barrette at the end of each braid. My Eldest reaches out to tocuh the braid all the while smiling as big as life. She wants her hair like that, too. While she recognizes that black hair is different that white hair, she (literally) embraces it and incorporates into her love of people in general.

Last thing for tonight -- random with no logical segway, but nonetheless is a nice way to punctuate this blog entry: Ashy. The other day, I had dry skin. I then recalled a memory when I spent time with a friend (who is black) and he said, "I'm a little ashy". I didn't get it. "Ashy?!" I contorted quizzically. "Yeah - you know, dry skin". The image of dry skin on a black person flashed through my mind and I thought "what a great way to describe that". So I chuckled at that memory as I applied lotion to my own dry legs thinking, "I'm ashy, too".

Pursed lips, gritted teeth and a pout

I have not blogged in a while. I am very inconvenienced at home, so that is why I have not blogged in a while. The computer that I use to write and publish my blog is currently without internet access. We have this laptop I am using to blog right now. I really do not like it. I do not like it because it rests on what is supposed to be a dining room table, in my kitchen - the makeshift office. The chairs at this table are a hundred years old -uncomfortable - and they hurt my ass. I am pissed because I can not get my better half to friggin fix the internet on MY computer. Therefore I am inconvenienced. Therefore I have not blogged.

The end.