Archives for March 2009

Right this very second I’m sitting down and waiting for the latest installment of “24.” And I’m waiting for it, of course, because our social calendar is jam-packed with a whole lot of absolutely nothing and because last week’s episode ended with Jack being chased by a hitman and then saving himself at the last minute by tricking the hitman into thinking that he was hiding in an abandoned shed and then demolishing the shed with a bulldozer that happened to be parked nearby.

It was all utterly believable. I mean, I don’t know about y’all, but the using-nearby-bulldozers-for-shed-demolition thing happens to me ALL THE TIME.

However, the “24” stuff is really neither here nor there because I have to tell you a far more inspirational story, one that will leave you so fraught with emotion that it may require some tissues. Or, at the very least, a Deeply Sincere Single Tear.

This afternoon I ran in the Walmarts to pick up a few things, and as I was walking over to the grocery section a sale rack caught my eye. Now you need to realize that at the beginning of the year I decided that my theme for 2009 was being faithful in the small things, so I haven’t done any clothes shopping in the last couple of months. Our budget is pretty tight right now, so back in January Melanie and I decided that we would hold each other accountable in terms of impulse purchases. If either of us has a Shopping Moment of Weakness, we call the other one and explain what’s going on, and that is why as recently as two weeks ago you might have seen me in the Targets talking to Mel on my phone while longingly resting my head against some colorful long tunics.

Sadly, there was no room for a sassy tunic in my budget. I had to say good-bye. And I may have whispered “I love you” as I walked away.

Don’t even get me started about the remarkable restraint I showed in the Steinmarts when they had baskets of sunglasses marked down to $9.99 a pair.

So today I saw the Walmarts sales rack, and it was filled with all manner of cute empire-waist cotton dresses. You could wear a long-sleeved or a short-sleeved shirt underneath, and I’ve had my eye on that particular style of dress since I first saw them in another store last spring. The sale dresses were a little below knee-length, so I pulled one off the rack to check out the price.

(For some reason this whole dress thing makes me think of Martha because I know that if she were here right now she’d say, “Is it a thin cotton? Or a thicker cotton? I think that thin cotton is darlin’, just darlin’, but I just freeze every time I wear it because you know they keep the church so cold that you can’t possibly sit there without a light sweater, at the very least a light sweater, and even then the thin cotton just isn’t enough and I need a thicker cotton, you know like on the Susan Bristol separates? The Susan Bristol separates are a thicker cotton and sometimes I don’t even need a sweater when I wear them, I don’t even need a sweater! Now did you happen to go to Goody’s?”)

Anyway. I looked at the price, and do y’all know how much those dresses were? DO YOU KNOW?

THEY WERE TWO DOLLARS.

$2.

TWO! DOLLARS!

I immediately threw a purple one and a brown one into my shopping cart, and I called Mel to make sure that spending four dollars on two dresses still fell under the category of being faithful in the small things. In addition to giving me her purchase seal of approval (“WHY, YOU COULD BUY THOSE WITH THE CHANGE IN YOUR WALLET,” she said excitedly), she proceeded to rattle off a list of all the different colors of jewelry I could wear with them. And then she said she might have to run over to her Walmarts, too. The $2 dresses don’t come along every day, you know?

It is perfectly fine if you feel compelled to bask in their $2 cuteness.

And I will wear the fire out of that $2 cuteness this summer, by the way.

Plus, I think the dresses will be extraordinarily comfortable when I hop in all the bulldozers to demolish all the sheds.

Jack Bauer would be so proud.

After Thursday’s Nashville caffeine marathon I seriously doubted whether or not I would be able to sleep that night, but sleep I most certainly did. In fact, I slept so hard that I woke up at Sister’s house Friday morning and had absolutely no idea where I was or how long I’d been there.

So y’all know what I did once I climbed out of bed. I had me some more coffee.

Later that morning I met a friend at a coffee shop (ARE YOU NOTICING A THEME?) that was far too cool for the likes of me, but the great thing about being out of my cool league is that I felt completely free to just hillbilly it up like nobody’s business. So when a man who may or may not have been Larry Gatlin (don’t even ask how I know enough about the Gatlin Brothers to identify one of them in a public place; just suffice it to say that my daddy liked country music a whole lot in the 70s) walked through the door of Cool Coffee Shop, I sat up a little straighter in my chair and stared at him real good. Didn’t even pretend that I wasn’t curious. Didn’t pretend to be blase’. I just totally stared.

Same thing with a girl who was either Miranda Lambert or someone who was trying really hard to look like her. And Miranda or no, she was just darlin’, by the way.

After two hours of some mighty fine conversation at Cool Coffee Shop, we ran across the street to Cool Shoe Store that was supposed to be having a big sale. And they were having a big sale, but hey, do you know what half of $143 is? STILL A LOT OF MONEY FOR SHOES. Plus, after I looked over the sale rack I decided that I am about five years behind on shoe trends – because apparently the kids are cuckoo crazy over shoes like this:

Um, I don’t think so. MAMA NEEDS A HEEL.

Also: Michael Jackson called, and he thinks those shoes would look great with his glove.

After our unsuccessful shoe shopping I jumped back in the car so that I could run by and see another sweet friend on the way out of town. I was just planning to stop by for maybe thirty minutes, but thirty minutes turned into an hour which turned into two and FOUR AND A HALF HOURS LATER I pulled out of the driveway. We broke up All The Talking with some lunch and then a little time in carpool line, but I seriously felt like I’d been to a mini-retreat when I left. It was one of those times that just blessed my soul in a whole host of ways and for a whole host of reasons.

(And if you’re wondering why I was so footloose and fancy free Thursday and Friday, it’s because my little boy was at my parents’ house. I missed him so much that I actually watched a funny video of him about eight times while he was gone, but OH, it was a treat to spend some uninterrupted time with friends AND to have some downtime at home. Hallelujah.)

Once I got back to Alabammy I went to supper with my husband and filled him in on my trip. Because when you’ve talked your head off for the better part of a day, what could be more enjoyable than talking some more? Why, I CANNOT THINK OF ANYTHING.

Saturday I had every intention of cleaning the house and washing clothes and attacking my to-do list, but I was an utter failure at all of those things. What I did manage to do was watch a whole lot of basketball (oh. my bracket. it grieves me.) and get caught up on my Bible study. And watch movies. And nap. And watch HGTV. And eat a lot of peanut butter on a spoon.

Life got back to normal yesterday when our little man came home, and by my best estimation he has grown approximately four feet since Tuesday. He can’t wait to go back to school, but I think he misses his grandparents. I say that because after we prayed before bedtime last night he said, “Mama? May I ask you a question?” And then he said, “Mama? Can I please go to my grandparents’ house all summer long?”

Oh, bless him.

Happy Monday, y’all.