Wednesday, May 2, 2007

Welcome to my world
Well, the storms of yesterday wreaked havoc with our schedule. Let me tell you about my day:

6:30 a.m. Attempt to wake up. Unsuccessful but have to get up anyway. Get ready for work on autopilot.

7:10 a.m. Arrive at work early, in anticipation of an early departure.

7:10-3 p.m. Usual work activities, computer, email, meetings. Eat lunch at desk to make up for the time lost in leaving early for...

3:30 p.m. Vera Bradley outlet presale! Scored exclusive tickets through a lady G. does cardboard-box business with at work.

3:30-5:30 p.m. Brave the masses of Vera-loving ladies in absolute orgiastic shopping mode down the long aisles of marked-down Vera Bradley handbags, wallets, luggage, tote-bags, duffel bags etc. Especially affected: the luggage buyers (for some reason). Walk down each aisle at least twice looking for 1) the item I wanted (a black microfiber carry for my laptop, $85 regular price, scored it for $21!!!) and the orders I had from other ladies. Spent over 20 minutes being herded through the checkout line that rivaled the line for Millenium on a busy day at Cedar Point.

5 p.m. Got a call from G. warning me of potentially dangerous thunderstorms, probably right over my head but I can't hear them because I am deep in the bowels of the Coliseum surrounded by the hoards of Vera shoppers. Says "Norwalk is right under the red on the radar and really getting it." I am too overcome by the Vera-ness of it all to spare much of a thought for my loved ones in the path of the storm.

5:30-6 p.m. Escape the sale into the storm. Drive through wind and rain to A's house. She had attempted to use her ticket to go to the sale but had no money to pay for parking and they don't take cards so she had to just go get dinner and get to her rehearsal for the concert this evening.

6-7 p.m. Dinner and hail-dodging at the Hess House with M., J., C. and Tr. J. on the phone to papa and his step-mom ascertaining that his first baseball game has indeed been canceled due to nickel-sized hail and damaging winds.

7 p.m. Brave the tail-end of the storm to go downtown to the concert site, since the game plans have been nixed.

7:30-9 p.m. Corral a one-year-old through an hour-and-a-half concert. The lovely strains of contemporary band music is regularly punctuated by "No!" "UH!" "Yea!" and "I have to go potty." Try to convince a 9-year-old that he is 1) not starving to death, having recently eaten dinner and 2) he is NOT the "most bored he has ever been."

app. 8:15 p.m. C. announces the potty need. In taking her out, T. expresses (loudly) her desire to go too. Take both of them to the bathroom. On returning by a side aisle, C., in the lead, neglects to turn up the correct aisle and marches in front of the entire audience. I head up the right aisle, throw T. to her dad, then run back down, then in front of the entire audience (mostly very senior citizens), and up the main aisle, where C. is blithely climbing the steps. Scoop her up and make our way around the back of the section, down the right aisle, and back to our seats.

9 p.m. Concert over. Express congratulations to band at a job well done. Talk to some folks in the foyer who ask, "Are these the little girls that got loose?" Confirm that yes, they are.
Decide to go to downtown Starbucks for needed nourishment.

9:15 p.m. No parking spots at the side of the building, so I try to go around, get caught in the drive-through lane, and have to wait in line to get back to where the parking is.

9:30 p.m. Finally get to order my tall, decaf, skinny, no whip, sugar-free cinnamon dulce latte. Tastes like heaven at this point.

9:45 p.m. Girls and J. are drinking kids' hot chocolate. He has a chocolate chip cookie and the girls have some cinnamon coffee cake. T. has managed to break hers into a million crumbs, a few of which make her mouth, and most of which are scattered on the table and floor around her. She spots a bigger piece on the floor and eats it.

10 p.m. Time to leave. G. looks at the crumb mess and says, "Mostly grownups have been in the Starbucks all day long. The last thing at night, we come in and leave this mess. Let's apologize before they have to clean it up."

10:10 p.m. Finally home. I go back to my TiVo, thinking I can catch the performances on American Idol before I go to bed. I turn on the TV and the TiVo, only to discover that due to the storm, I have recorded an hour of a blue screen that says, "Retrieving satellite signal."

10:30 p.m. Give up and go to bed.

Welcome to my world.

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