My Commitment to You (Part 3?)

I know you think I'm making these things up, but I promise you I'm not.  These are real bonafide businesses scattered anywhere across the deep south.  (If you'd like to see Parts 1 and 2, click here and here.)

My friends and I have been hard at work to bring these to you so, in appreciation, feel free to share any gems you may discover in your travels.

Repeat After Me Women's Consignment

Holy Spirit Thrift Shop

Luv Me 2 Times (consignment)

U Save Dentistry

Action Game and Movie

Sweet Repeats Fine Furniture Consignment

Biscuit King

Bangz

Rising Star Primitive Baptist Church

Compliments Hair Studio

Flava Snoballs & BBQ Plate Lunches

Spicy Kutz

A Time for Me Salon

Kwality Kutz

Poise'n Ivy Ladies Fashions

Potluck Boutique

Anointed Kutz

Nappy Roots

Lawn and Order (Get Mow for your Money)

Now, that's funny, right there -- I don't care who you are.

The Night I Accidentally Got Stoned (and an unrelated pizza stone)

So I am glad that the heart-wrenching day of sending my firstborn off to Kindergarten is over.

Weeping lasted through the night, but joy came in the morning in the form of the FedEx man and this package from Pampered Chef.

It is my new pizza stone to replace my old pizza stone that Handy Daddy broke trying to cook pancakes on the stove top.

When I found out they'd send me a new one to replace the broken one, I informed him that he was off the hook.  I thought he would've been glad about that but, he was ambivalent, adding "I never knew I was on the hook."

Well, of course he was on the hook.  It was pretty much brand-new, used only twice to cook pizzas that were less than satisfactory.  That being because I used refrigerated Pillsbury pizza dough, which I am now boycotting because the silly things are rectangle, and pizzas, in most of the civilized world, are circle.

Okay, so I know you're probably like, "Shut up about the stupid pizza stone and tell us how you got stoned!"

Well, unfortunately, and unlike my good friend, Jodie, my super power is not "laying down and going to sleep." 

I would almost certainly sell a kidney to gain possession of that super power but, as of press time, I am a lifetime insomniac who has relied on a cocktail of drugs to lull me to that sweet sweet bye and bye for years. 

I am claiming deliverance, but that deliverance has not yet been granted, and so I just live with the thorn in my side of requiring horse tranquilizers to sleep. 

Not really.

Anyway...

I was out of my usual pills that help to shut down the non-stop freight train that is my brain and found some Ambien in the pantry.  This was prescribed to me a while back, but I didn't like the effect, so I hadn't taken them in a while. 

My doc prescribed 10 mg but told me to break them in half...

Well, I forgot all about that whole "break it in half" bit and took a whole one last night.

I went and sat on the couch and talked to Handy Daddy about school.  That's pretty much the last thing I remember.

He said I was talking about school and then I was quiet for a while.

He looked over at me and my mouth was hanging open and my eyes were barely open and I was tapping my hand on the folder sitting in my lap (picture a heavily-drugged pscyh patient).

This was our exchange:

"Mama, are you alright?"
"No."
"What's wrong with you?"
"I'm seeing double."
"Are you messin' with me?"
"No."
"Well, I think you should go to bed."

I got up and zig-zagged myself to the bathroom where I commenced to brush my teeth, wash my face, apply my lotions...

Handy Daddy comes in to check on me.

"I think you need to forget about all that and just go to bed."
"Have I gone to the bathroom yet?"
"I don't know.  Have you?"
"I don't know."
"Well, you'd probably better, since you've already lost control of the rest of you."

I actually woke up feeling pretty good, so it wasn't all a loss.

I found Handy Daddy sleeping on the couch.

"Why are you sleeping there?"
"Because Tootsie kept crying last night and you were...like...Night of the Living Dead."

He told me everything and I nearly peed my pants.

This is his re-enactment, for your viewing pleasure.



I joked that he could have had his way with me and I would've been none the wiser, to which he replied, "No I can assure you that nothing happened."

Hmpf.

Whatever.

I attribute this only to this...

...and not the fact that he was the perfect gentleman.

I cannot tell this story without telling you about an eerily similar experience of Handy Daddy's.

One of the things I've taken over the years (I use different things when something stops working) is an over-the-counter medicine called Alteril. 

I have to take at least two of them and wait at least an hour or so to get sleepy.  It's what I'd recommend to an infant with insomnia. 

Not really.

So anyway, Handy Daddy was having trouble sleeping one night and took ONE of them. 

I found him face down in just his skivvies in the guest room with the "big light" on (as opposed to the lamp-- go with it...it's what I call it).

The only way I can explain it is that he looked like he had stumbled home from a crack party (or what I envision someone looking like if they stumbled home from a crack party -- I really have no idea, thanks be to God).

Ahhhh, the memories.

My First Commitment to You....continued...

With regard to my last post, here are some I was reminded of and more I saw today:

Diligently Favored Auto Paint & Body Shop

Bayou Some Stuff

Let's Go Two Grandma's

Da' Set (clothing store???)

Holy Spirit American Catholic Church

I'm tellin' ya, friends, I think I just created myself a new hobby.  Now, to pick a name for it...

My first commitment to you...

I went to Wal-Mart this afternoon and, when I returned to my car in the parking lot, found this gem on the windshield:

Oh, Mr. [owner of Honesty & Pride Lawn Care Service], how my funny bone delighteth in thee...


My friend, Jodie, and I have a little tradition of texting each other with names of businesses we find....uh....for lack of a better word....funny.

Now, be forewarned, you will either find these funny....or you won't get it at all.  If you don't get it, do not despair.  It is probably in your best interest not to find these funny.  I actually envy your innocence.

This volley of ours has been going on for years, and I haven't kept an accurate log, but these are the ones that I've committed to memory:

Got 'Em Talkin' Hair Salon

Daz's Fades with Blades

Clyde's Hair Designs

Shear Indulgence (hair salon)

Ram in the Bush Ministries

Sirius Stylz

Gary's Fashunz for U

Anointed Kutz

There are probably dozens more that I can't remember, and it is my quest to keep a more accurate log.  There are two for sure that I can actually picture the business, but the name just won't come to me. So rest assured, this list will be supplemented at a later date.

And I'm sure you'll all be waiting with bated breath, right?

In that case, my friends, I shall deliver.  All it takes is a wedding or a funeral in another town and I'll be scouring the business signs.

Until we meet again...

Quirky is as Quirky does

Before my days of Mommyhood, I was told that when that day arrived, I was going to have to let go of some things. I would not be able to stay on top of everyone's birthday, much less plan everyone's parties, and I would not be able to keep my house as clean as I would like.

And my friends like to give me a hard time, because my house, after two children, is still "clean." It does no good to argue with them, as they are convinced my house is "clean."

I disagree heartily with them because, you see, before I had children, I mopped my floors every Saturday. Since I had my first child, my floors get mopped about every 6 months. The bathrooms get cleaned every other week if they're lucky.

My house is not "clean."

My house is, however, very neat.

Yes, I confess, I am a neat freak.

My obsession, you see, is order. Not necessarily cleanliness (although that is just the icing on the cake for me).

Order is my quirk.

or·der [awr-der] –noun a condition in which each thing is properly disposed with reference to other things and to its purpose; methodical or harmonious arrangement: You must try to give order to your life.

And that, my friends, is the definition of Mama. Trying to give order to [her] life.

I'm not quite sure if this is a temperament thing, or if my parents totally screwed me up as a child and this is the result. But I HAVE TO have order or I am a complete basket case.

A while back we had a little shindig at our house with several couples and their respective broods. When the evening was over, the little children scampered around, "cleaning up", and then their parents watched me go behind and organize the toys behind them. When they left, I was literally sitting on the floor in front of the toy box, organizing the toys. Because everything has its place, you know.

And I will be so brave as to tell you that I do this several times a day, but at least twice. At nap time and bed time. I cannot sit or sleep with toys scattered around the playroom, much less the rest of the house.

I confided in a friend one day that the sheep was missing from the Little People farm, and it was driving me crazy. Did we lose it? Did someone steal it? Who would do such a thing? Don't they know that the rest of the farm animals need that poor sheep? My friend, God bless her, just giggled and said, "Really??" (That sheep did turn up again, so you can all breathe a huge sigh of relief on that one.)

I tell you all this so that you can get a clear picture of the agony I've been going through the past few days since THREE toys have gone missing! I mean....can you imagine?

Oddly enough, two of the missing parts are from Little People sets. That right there tells me there's something afoot.

She's been missing since Christmas morning and goes by the name "Tiana." May be traveling with a "Prince Naveen." If you see either of these individuals, please contact Mama immediately.

The angel went missing on Christmas evening. The shepherds are still out in the fields waiting on [her] to appear.

The little yellow life ring went missing the day after Christmas. Sarah Lynn won't get into the water without it.

So being the nutcase that I am, I spent the day looking for these items and making phone calls in an attempt to track them down. 'Cause they're somewhere, people. And I'm not gonna rest until I find them. Literally.

So there it is. That's my quirk. There are many others, but that is probably the most profound.

I love talking about quirks, because it seems like everyone has one. Well mostly everyone. I do have one friend who really couldn't come up with anything any of the rest of us would confirm to be a bonafide quirk. Maybe her quirk is being normal. Which is really abnormal. Hence, the quirk.

My friend, Tara, has a 45-minute bedtime routine, which includes flossing twice.

My friend, Julie, won't let you dry your hands on paper towels at her house. You have to use a kitchen towel. Because using the paper towels is wasteful.

My friend, Jodie, traces words onto her sheets with her fingers while she's in bed.  Not sure if she does this when dozing off or waking up, but that's pretty quirky -- wouldn't you say?  And the most bizarre thing about that is that I do that, too.  I mean...what are the odds of THAT???

I love to find out about people's quirks.  It just really gives you a glimpse into who they really are.  Because it's a little weird, it's not something they share with everyone.  A true friend knows their friends' quirks.

Will you share yours with me?