Thursday, July 28, 2011

Funny Stuff My Husband Says To Me

Him - "You are totally dudelike ."

Me - I gave him A Look.  (Not The Look, mind you, because that's a war declaration.)

Him - "In a smokin' hot, girl, kind of way..." 

I don't actually remember what I did that made him say that, but I do remember we were sitting on the living room sofa watching something on TV.  On a Sunday.  So there's a good chance we were either watching a movie or sports...either way I was probably having words with the show is my guess.

He can't remember what I did either;  I just asked him.  But he does remember saying that to me.  It's why we get along.

xoxo,
The Dudelike Smokin' Hot Girl

Monday, July 25, 2011

A Walmart by any other name...

Walmart. 

Like it or not, there's probably one near you.  Maybe even a Super Walmart.  Sugarland dubbed it Wallyworld in a song, the midwesterners call it by The Walmarts for some unfathomable reason, but here in this household...we refer to it as...The Place Where Very Weird Men Hit on Mom.  Okay, I replace 'Very' with a particular word that starts with an 'F' when my children aren't around but I'm trying to keep my blog PG-13.

Now when I go out and about my daily business I do occasionally get....approached, we'll call it....by an interested man.  I'm talking like once a year.  These guys are polite and completely embarrassed once I flash my wedding ring that they somehow missed.  So, for the most part, I give out my very happily married and not in the market in any way, shape, or form vibe, in a big, BIG way.  Apparently, however, when I cross the threshhold of a Walmart, I am stripped of my usual vibe and it is replaced with...I don't know what...but it encourages whatever weirdo male is in the store to come on up and take his chances. 

And, being a redhead, I am familiar with the Guy Who Has A Fetish for Red Hair.  That guy hits on every redhead he comes across everywhere and anywhere, and usually wants to touch our hair, even while we're calling security over.  So I'm not a novice in needing to tell a stranger to back the hell off.  But this whole Walmart thing is...I don't know...more ewwww somehow.


It's a little disconcerting.

The last 3 times I have gone this is what has happened...

I have a had a seriously lounge lizardy ancient guy, with a massive dyed combover, give me the what for.

I have been followed around, aisle to aisle, as I tried to decide which body wash to purchase...and then offered help in applying it, while I was reaching for the laundry detergent.  That one called my husband 'one lucky bastard'.

But I think the dude who sniffed me might be the hall of famer. 

This happened just about a week ago.  I was at the 'nice' Walmart in the 'nice' city with the hubs (as he has deemed it unsafe for me to enter Wallyworld by myself based on my previous experiences).  We had been there, got what we came for - a new cooler - and were headed to the check out lanes.  As it happened we were walking single file because of the crushing crowd in attendance that Sunday afternoon and unbeknownst to me, my fabulous husband had stopped to look at something (but, ever protective, was still keeping an eye one me).  So for the first time in our shopping expedition it appeared that I was alone.  Within seconds a man, fitting the description of Not All Cards In His Deck, walked by me real, real, close, leaned in, and sniffed me as he went by.  Now I was not 100% positive this had actually occurred until I was rejoined by my hubby.  He had been catching up to me, and had witnessed the whole scene close up.  Apparently just as Weird Guy walked past me he exhaled deeply and audibly sighed while a contented smile took over his face.  I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP. 


This does not happen to me anywhere else.  It doesn't matter what Walmart I go to, how I'm dressed or what time of day it is.  So what I want to know is...does this happen to anyone else?  Am I just special?  Do I just need to never enter another Walmart again and only shop Target for the sundries in my life?

xoxo
~S

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Goodbyes

This last month we've been saying goodbye again.  One of my least favorite things. 

At the beginning of the month, my daughter's freshly graduated best friend, my Other Daughter, moved out of state for a new adventure and chapter in her life.  While we're excited for her, we're holding out hope that when her lease is up in the Spring she'll head back.  Pray for loads and loads of snow in northern Utah people!  And this week a family we've known for several years headed east for Texas.  And yes, for those of you in the know, I am purposely leaving out the great state of because I've come to harbor the seeds of hatred for that state.  It has gobbled up no fewer than 5 of my favorite women and their families.  I guess those longhorns really can hook 'em.

It seems in the last 10 years, since we moved to this little one-horse town, we have said more goodbyes than I have in all the rest of my lifetime.  I don't know if that would really hold up under close examination, so maybe it's just that the goodbyes we've been forced to say in the last decade have worn much harder on me than before.

Is it that it's a small town, so friends are fewer and farther between?  Maybe.  Is it because the population out here is...unlike any I've lived among before?  Probably.  Is it because I've now lived here longer than any other place in my adult life?  Is it because I'm becoming more and more certain I might never go somewhere else?  Is it because I'm in the wrong place?

That last suggestion was made to me several years ago by a husband's friend on the eve of their departure for the greener pastures of Humboldt, CA.  It's an interesting thing to ponder since I'm pretty sure we're not going anywhere.  I had been lamenting to him that in the previous 6 months we had said goodbye to 2 other families and were now saying goodbye to his.  I was telling him that it was funny because all of the people who moved (and continue to move) were always the last people that thought they would go.  The pattern goes like this...we meet them and become friends...in discussing the fact that people seem to move around a lot they declare that they're going nowhere and all the really solid reasons why...then within the year...AND I AM NOT EXAGGERATING HERE...some weird random personal/job/health issue comes up....and a For Sale sign appears in their front yard.

It really stinks.
Maybe I need to befriend myself...ha ha ha!

I prefer a casual, quick, just like I'm going to see you next week as usual, kind of goodbye.  Even when that's not what we're doing.  I don't go for the long, dramatic, crying, desperate hugging goodbye.  Which isn't to say it hasn't happened...just that I can pass on that all day long.

This morning I said a very different goodbye.  It was casual, the usual, how we've been doing it for years, goodbye.  Only this time, in Seal Beach, at my grandfather's bedside, he struggled to open his eyes and we both knew it might be our last until we eventually meet up on the other side.  Of course I'm planning to go see him Friday too...so maybe I'll get lucky.

I've always believed in 'the other side'.  Heaven.  Whatever you want to call it.  I like the idea that fried chicken will have no calories, my skin won't burn in the sun, too many margaritas won't give me a hangover and I'll spend some serious time lying on a beach with all my favorite people.  It's my version of the sweet beyond.

Maybe all of this is why I haven't felt like writing.  Actually, if we're gonna get bare naked honest, why I've been avoiding writing like the plague. I've been in a mood.  But it's time to bounce back and enjoy the sunshine.

Love to you all!

~Sherri