Shhhh. It's a rare Saturday entry. We don't want to frighten it.
Em and I were accosted in Wal-mart yesterday, further cementing my opinion that time in that store equals the loss of brain function. We were minding our own business in the hair products aisle, when out of nowhere, a Jesus zombie attacked us. I may have brought it on myself, since I smiled at the whack job when we passed her in the previous aisle.
She got all up in our space, and started in. Her eyes had this weird "I've been abducted by aliens" look, and she was wearing Bob Jones clothes. She started out with, "I just want to tell you ..." I thought she was going to say, "I just want to tell you ... you look MAHVELOUS!" Or "... you need a different hair color." Or even "... Girl, your butt gettin' big!"
But no. "I just want to tell you that Jesus Christ died for your sins. Blah blah blah ... blah de blah blah." Emilie snorted and laughed, which slowed the bitch down for a split second. But I think my entertained smile encouraged her. She talked for a good 2 minutes about her man JC before I could break the alien eye contact she had on us, and run the other direction.
I hate this about me: I spent the entire ride home thinking of things I WISH I had said to her.
From the comments:
"Hey, I got a pedicure last weekend at the place by Bloom. The ladies there were in a great mood. They made me laugh soooo hard. Talking about dating and boyfriends and boob jobs and stuff."
Kathy, I didn't see a single lady anywhere in the place on Thursday afternoon. That's what I meant by the bad vibe I felt ... there were a couple of men working, and they were playing Cher on the CD player. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.)
He asked me if I wanted the hot towels on my legs ... I said yes ... then I think they charged me an extra $5 for the experience. The sign said "Spa Pedicure: $25", and he charged me $30. Oh well.
You made me laugh with the clacking dog toenails visual. Heee!
Alright, here's the plan:
I leave tomorrow for Georgia. I plan to stay, initially, for 2 weeks. If, in that time, Mom's unable to get around her house safely, I will come back here for a weekend to pay bills and regroup ... then return for another stretch of however long it takes. Surely, between my two sisters and my niece, they can cover me for a weekend, right?
I'll have my laptop, and Michael and Patti are being generous with their Bellsouth account, so hopefully I'll be able to get online. Internet Withdrawal is not a pretty sight on me.
I fully expect this to be torturous. My mother does not have a good track record for handling pain like a trouper. I know this'll be really hard for her, and in turn ... hell for me. (And isn't it really ALL about me?)
I'll update here when I get the chance. Send me all your positive thoughts ... I will be needing every single one.