The End is Near July 24, 2009

I hope you have your food storage in order because you’re going to need it.  Soon. 

How soon? You ask.

Well, no one knows the day or the hour but I’ve been watching the signs and I’d say you’d better make sure you have enough Morning Moo for the family within the next few days, a week at the most.

How do I know? Well, let me tell you.

I went hiking today. And if that’s not a sign of the end of days I don’t know what is.

For those of you who don’t know me very well or who haven’t known me for more than a year, let me ’splain.  I’m not really what you would call the outdoorsy type.  I was raised with the belief that mankind had been through thousands of years of technological advances so that I wouldn’t have to sleep on the ground, or share my meals with the flies or *ahem* cook over an open flame (my father was resistant even to grilling) and so that I could have things like indoor plumbing and computers.  And that’s a belief that I proudly held for years.

Until this year when I made a resolution to take my family, my kids specifically, on some kind of vacation this year.  To begin with I was thinking Disney and then I looked up prices for Disney.  So then I was thinking … I don’t know, something else but well, frankly I couldn’t afford that either.  You know what I could afford?  Camping.  So I took a deep breath; got off my high horse (figuratively as I’ve never actually ridden a horse) and took the kids camping.  We’ve been twice and with the notable exception of the lantern attack it’s gone really well.  Well enough that we were planning on going again this weekend, to a campground that’s far(ish) away, for two nights.  This is serious commitment people!

Unfortunately, the Infantile Delinquent choose Wednesday night to spend puking and Thursday to be feverish and snuggly (which is semi-delightful for a mom but mostly really sad.) Not to be outdone, The Baby spent the majority of Thursday night screaming and  when Sean broke down and took him in to the ER (at about 2:30 this morning) we discovered that he had two enormous ulcers running down his throat (apparently this is somewhat common and not a sign of anything other than a lot of pain for the next few days).  We got him some meds and his pain seems to be fairly well managed but there wass no way I was taking him camping, especially not someplace far(ish) from home, with something like that going on.

So camping’s out at least for tonight, but my kids have just been sitting around the house for three weeks.  And while that’s really short for a summer break (as previously discussed) it’s plenty of time for the intake of Suite Life on Deck to reach critical levels.  I had to get them out of the house.  I had to get out of the house.  And because Sean hasn’t been paid in about a month (and because I’m cheap and we had already paid for a campsite that we’re not using) it had to be something free.

Walking’s free.

So I took my two oldest kids and we hiked.  We did the Silver Lake loop and just like the reviews I read, it was steep (and that sucked) but actually, it wasn’t too bad.  The kids whined a fair amount and they were each reduced to tears at least once, but I figure that’s about par for the course.  It’s four(ish) miles and we did it in a little under three hours and no one died or even ended up very seriously maimed.  So altogether I’m calling it a win.

But seriously, if I were you I’d make sure I had my affairs in order.  Just in case.

________________________________________

Since you asked:

If you look close you can see the cut from the lantern-> Poor sick Baby

Rumble in the… Well, at the Next Door Neighbor’s To Be Exact April 6, 2009

I don’t live in the nicest neighborhood.  I try to be positive about it.  In fact, if you’ve ever heard me talk about I was probably saying something positive like how I love that my kids’ best friends are kids named Kasem and Angel and that  I think it’s cool that most of the kids in their classes speak other languages. And that there’s a Costco at the end of my street.

I figured that this was where we could afford to live, so this was where we had to live so I really needed to find positive things about the neighborhood.  And I think I did a pretty darn good job.  But then Saturday came a long and I accepted the fact that despite its obvious attractions, my neighborhood  just isn’t a very nice place to live.

You see the Princess and the Pea were next door playing with their friends, a little girl the Princess’s age and twin boys two years older.  Their father lives next door to us and the kids are there every other weekend and one weeknight a week.  The kids were playing in an old camping trailer that lives in his carport.  I don’t love them playing in there, for reasons that should be fairly obvious, but the father usually sits on his back steps, about 5 feet away so I allow it.

So the kids were there playing and I was home with the little guys when there was a knock on my back door.  I answered it and it was a young girl (about 13) from across the street who was just checking to see if the Pea was ok.

“Um what?  Why wouldn’t he be ok?”

“Well, Billy (on of the 11 yr old boys next door) made him cry.”

“Well, he’s not home so he must be fine.”  I wasn’t really worried at this point, kids fight and they make up and I try not to get involved.

Of course, while I was talking to this girl at my back door the Pea had come in the front door.  “He’s right there,” the girl said pointing behind me where the Pea was now standing.

He was standing there, tear streaked but not crying and he said he was fine.  “Well, he’s ok so thanks for coming over,”  I said.

“Oh and your daughter has an inappropriate mouth,” the girl tossed off as a parting shot before she walked away.

Great.

So I asked the Pea what happened.  His story was not linear and pretty unclear but what I got from it was that the kids were playing in the trailer, and father wasn’t around and there was a baseball bat involved.

Shall I understate it and say that I was concerned?

So I went over there.  As I was walking across the front of my house I could see the same girl who had just been at my back door with two of her… brothers? cousins? relatives? (The house across the street is inhabited by a large pacific islander family [the family is large, the people actually, not so much] including a lot of children, mostly boys, and I’ve never been able to figure out how most of them are related.) of roughly the same ages.  The had an aluminum baseball bat and upon seeing me they began walking away from the trailer.

And this is the story as near as I could reconstruct it:  The father had left to get a movie.  (In his defense, his kids are 11, 11 and 9 and he lives next door to his mother, who watches his kids for him some and who was home.)  The kids, mine and his, had been playing in the trailer and the older bat wielding kids had been playing in the street.  Some of the trailer kids (not mine, I was assured.  Un hunh.) started yelling… unkind things at the kids in the street so naturally the kids in the street came over and began beating on the trailer with the aluminum bat.  Some time in the middle there the Pea had gotten out of the trailer as had the other girl the Princess’s age.  So the Princess was in there alone with the older boys and was sure that if she tried to leave she was going to be beaten to death with a bat.

Again with the understatement, I’m going to say that I was unhappy with the situation.

So I got the Princess out of there and laid down the rule that my kids are not to go into the trailer again EVER.  I mentioned to the street kids, now across the street, that they probably should not have used a bat to work out their problems and that they may want to make a point of going and apologizing to the father when he got home because he would probably notice the window that they had broken.  I talked with the Princess about appropriate language. (She swears she didn’t say anything and actually, I believe her. [You'd have to know the Princess.])  And I talked to her about the fact that she is not ever to be alone with either of those, or any other, boys with the possible exception of her brothers.

And I decided that we’re going to have to move.

____________________

For those interested, in the future I may post some of the other stories about the neighborhood  just so that you can all shake your heads and wonder exactly how stupid, blind and nieve I am that it took me this long to decide to move.

It’s Like I Just Dropped Off the Face of the Earth or Something December 27, 2008

I didn’t really intend to take Christmas week off, in fact I wrote some really great posts in my head over the last week or so.  (Some that I plan to actually type up for your enjoyment.  And some that are lost forever is the deep dark recesses of my brain.)  But the thing is that my computer is broken.

When I say broken what I really mean is that as I was reading my sister’s blog the other day, my darling little laptop, Rufus, suddenly lost his wireless device.  One minute I was on the internet whilst lying on my stomach in the middle of the living room and the next minute, Rufus here, insisted that there was no way I had been on the internet whilst lying on my stomach in the middle of the living room because I had no way to be on the internet whilst lying on my stomach in the middle of my living room.  We’re still disagreeing on that point.

(BTW, I blame my laptop problems on Melanie J who blogged about her laptop problems which gave Rufus the idea in the first place.)

In the mean time I’m typing this while connected to the life-giving force of the internet by a cord.  Can you believe that?  I have a wire hooking me to the internet!  That’s so 2007.

But it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make so that you can get your Wonderland fix.

So how was your Christmas?  Ours actually went quite well.  I think we made it through the day without even one meltdown, this is big, my friends.

The Princess and the Pea who both had rough starts to the week, finished it up in fine style.  The Infantile Delinquent has been sick all week, poor baby, so he just wants to sit on mom or dad’s lap.  This is sad but kind of sweet since he’s not really one to sit still any other time.  And the Baby, has carried on as if this is just the same old stuff.

What’s new with you?

Alison Wonderland and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day(s) November 22, 2008

Alternate title:  Best Week Ever!

I went to work as usual Tuesday night.  It was an average night, not too busy, not too slow and fairly early on when I had a minute I checked my work email.  And that’s when the crap started.

I had a message in there form my boss about a case that I helped out with (that I didn’t tell you about because I would never tell you about cases that I helped out with because that would be a HIPPA violation and I want to keep my job).  The email wasn’t actually about the case itself but about some staffing and other issues that we had during and just after.  Explaining would take a lot longer than either you or I am interested in spending here and it’s not very interesting but long story short, I felt like I was being called lazy and incompetent. (Again, these were not issues relating to patient care, I just want to make that clear.  Neither I nor anyone I work with messes around with anything that could potentially harm or even inconvenience a patient.)  Some of the things I was accused of I had in fact done but for reasons that I still find … reasonable and some of the things I was accused of were patently untrue.

Now I don’t get mad often.  Not really mad.  I get annoyed, I may even rant and rave a bit but it takes quite a bit to really make me mad.  Before I was even done reading the email, I was mad.  Really mad.  And it got worse the more I read.

It took me a good two hours to calm down enough to even write a response.  I did and sent it off.  It was probably a really good thing that we didn’t really have any cases that night and by morning I was too tired to care anymore. (Partially just because I was tired but also because in addition to not getting mad often, I get over it pretty quickly.)  So I went home and went to bed.

I got up at four that afternoon and after a quick shower I headed back to work because not only did I have to work that night I had to be there at 5:30 rather than 7:00 for some corporate training. (I sat there for an hour and a half and I got “say hello to your patients when they come in the room” out of it.  It was awesome!) Then I worked my normal twelve hour shift (not the worst shift ever, by a long shot, but I’ve had better).  And then rather than clocking out and going home and going to bed, I got to go teach CPR for another three hours.  So at 10:30 am I finally headed out to my car in the parking garage only to find a parking ticket on it.  Rock On!

I went home and slept form elevenish until about three when I forced myself to get up for reasons that I’ll explain in a minute, after I tell you that at about 4:00 we got a call form the mother of the Pea’s BFF where he was playing that afternoon, that the Pea had hit his head and cut his eye open and it was gaping quite a bit and would probably need stitches and would we like her to bring him home?  Yes, yes we would.  So she did and she was exactly right, it was gaping and it was going to need stitches.

So I went back to my hospital.  Because I just can’t get enough of that place.

At this point I caught some luck because while we were up in the OR (we went there first to try to ease the Pea, who has a tendency towards nervousness, into the idea of being at the hospital) a doctor friend of mine happened by and I got him to sew the Pea up without a three hour wait in the ER.  Ahhh the perks.

Because on the way to the hospital, in an effort to distract the Pea, I had offered him a treat when we were done, we went to the cafeteria where I got a freshly fried corndog (mmmmm, corndog) and we hung out there and ate and then we went home because I had to go to bed because after spending the previous two days and night turning nights into day I now needed to turn nights back into nights because I had to be back to work at 7:00 the next morning.  Luckily sleep deprivation and sleeping pills are now my good friends.

But after working a pretty horrific shift Friday, including some things that are really pretty interesting but I can’t tell you about because even after the week that I had I still want to keep my job I got off half an hour early and despite really horrific traffic I made it to Sampan in reasonable time and I got to meet a lot of fun, interesting women who blog.  So I guess it ended up ok afterall.

Yeah Well, Find the Beauty in THAT! November 15, 2008

The Pea came in today and told me a joke that he learned from one of the neighborhood kids.  A joke about “Johnnie Humperharder”.  Sigh.

I’ve got no beauty, but I am taking comfort in the fact that he would not have told me the joke if he had had any idea what it was about.

I love living in the hood.

Boys Will Be Boys November 11, 2008

And thank heaven for that.

Now you see it

Now you don't

I moved my pantry today.

There was a dead mouse under there.

Even thinking about it gives me the heebie jeebies.  As previously discussed, I hate mice.  But if there’s anything I hate more than live mice it’s dead mice.

Just seeing it freaked me right out.  As in right out of the kitchen.  And I couldn’t go back in.  And Sean wasn’t home and he wasn’t going to be home for about three hours.

I could not go back in the kitchen with that thing in there.

So I asked the Pea if he’d take care of it.

“Sure,” he shrugged, no big deal.  He grabbed the dust pan and cleaned that right up.

My Hero!

(As an aside, I don’t know if it was my mouse from the other day or not.  I never did do anything about it, I was going to but I didn’t get around to it.  I’ve had mice before and I always just put down poison (I know, I shouldn’t do that with little kids in the house but I can’t help but think that if my kids are eating stuff from behind the stove and under the sink, I have bigger problems) and after a day or two I stop seeing mice.  (And I’ve never smelled anything.)  So I have no idea if this was a mouse from an earlier infestation but basically, I’m just really glad I have a son who could get rid of it.)

6 Years Ago Today August 4, 2008

I was huge and hot and having trouble walking because the fully grown baby that was still inside me was sitting on a nerve that ran down my right leg.  July that year was the hottest month in the history of the state.  No, not just because I was 9 months pregnant, it actually broke the record for hottest month (it may still carry that record, I don’t know) and we had no air conditioning.  Good times.

6 years ago today I had to work.  I was working at Fred Meyer at the time and during most of my pregnancy (and thereafter) I worked the U-scan, self checkout.  Which really just means that I stood at a computer screen and… stood at a computer screen.  Due to my advanced state of pregnancy I asked at one point if there was any way I could get a stool and sit rather than stand through my 8 hour shift.  There wasn’t.

So 6 years ago today I went to work and stood for 8 hours and at some point in there my water broke a little but not much (and there’s a chance that I didn’t recognize it as what it was and thought I was just peeing on myself slightly more than usual) and I kept working and the store closed and I counted my till and at about 11:30pm I went home.

6 years ago tomorrow I delivered a baby at 7:15am.  (I’m not saying that that’s related to the standing and working.  I’m just saying…)

You see, 6 years ago tomorrow my water broke for real (for reals for real) at about 4:15am.  I shot out of bed and into the bathroom until the flood subsided and then I got dressed thinking that now that the “water” was out I’d be dry.  And then I got dressed again (I used a pad this time).

Sean called my cousin who came over to watch the Princess, who had woken up when I did, since she was in our bed, of course, (have I mentioned that my kids don’t sleep) and who, when she heard me say that my water had broken, asked, “can you fix it?”

6 years ago tomorrow I got to the hospital about 5:00am (by this point my pants were wet) and told the nurses what had happened.  I still wasn’t really in labor.

We went in and sat and labor started and it didn’t hurt and then it did hurt and I asked for my epidural but the anestesiologist was doing a c-section so I waited.  And then I got my epidural as the baby was crowning (I was lying on my side and I said, “I can feel the baby’s head” and the nurse said, “I can see the baby’s head.”) And the epidural didn’t really work (did I mention that the baby was crowning?) But it wasn’t long before I pushed twice (that’s a lot for me) and I had a baby.

6 years ago tomorrow the Pea was born.

Revisited July 28, 2008

For those of you who are new to the Wonderland please read this post before you read this post.

School started today.  The Princess went off to begin third grade and the Pea headed out to first grade.  His first full day of school, morning and afternoon.  And that means one thing: lunch.

His lunch was packed with care by his older sister (she beat me to it, it was made before I got up) he had a juice box and a sandwich (peanut butter and jelly on a hot dog bun), he had a nectarine.  I even added a little baggie of carrots.

So he went off to school and guess what.

HE DIDN’T EAT HIS LUNCH!!!  HE “BOUGHT” LUNCH AT SCHOOL!!!!!

He was told at the beginning of the day to put his backpack in his locker.  He did.  Apparently not many kids bring their lunches to school or possibly he wasn’t paying attention (I’m sure that wasn’t it) but whatever happened he didn’t end up going back to his locker to get his lunch.  “They made me get the school’s lunch,”  he said when he got home.

*Deep Breath*

Since it was the first day of school many forms and permission slips were sent home.  Amongst them I found one for free and reduced price lunches.  We don’t qualify for either but I’m sending it back anyway.  See:And when they send me the bill for the lunch that the Pea ate today I’m taking a page out of Lisa M’s book (I linked to her blog but she gave me the idea on the last post of this nature.  Somehow I’ve failed to follow the link to her blog and read it before now.  I plan to rectify that oversight.) and declaring it an unautorized expendeture.  I will not pay it! You think they’ll get the message?

PS Bonus points to the first person who figures out what the phone number on the form is.

Why My Kids Are Lame July 9, 2008

We have literally thousands (OK maybe thousand, look we’re not made of money here) of dollars of toys in the “playroom” at our house.  Why do I put the word playroom in quotes?  No, it’s not just that I don’t know how to properly use quotes as you’ll find here (No, seriously, go.  You won’t be sorry.  I’ll wait.  ——  Back? OK, let’s continue,) It’s because no one plays in it. EVER.

The playroom has become the repository for mountains of toys.  And the mountain is so big and so high and so tall (1,000), that on one even tries to dig through it to find a toy.  Do they look for games?  Not a chance.  How about dress-ups?  Surely the princess wants to dress up.  Negatory good buddy (2,000).

The playroom is too much of a mess to do anything with (and some day soon, I’m going to go in there with an empty garbage bag and come out with a soul so very much lighter) so my children, resourceful small people that they are, have found alternate methods of entertainment.  Something that they can and do spend hours at a time doing, something that brings joy to their little hearts, something that keeps them relatively quiet and non-fighting for nearly the whole day.  What is this magical instrument of fun? you ask.

It’s the TELEVISION!  And if I have to hear the “i-Carly” theme song one more time I’m going to put a bullet through my head.

Seriously, it’s summer.  No school, sunshine, the last few days it haven’t even been too hot, and all my kids can do is sit on their posteriors watching other kids, inane, bad acting kids, doing things. My kids don’t even play the Wii.

I should make it clear here that I’m really just referring to the Princess and the Pea here, Irish1 will happily ride his big wheel around the yard for hours and Irish2 is only 7 months old, just give him something disgusting and dirty to chew on and he’s set.  If he loses his thing to chew on, however, it won’t be any of his older siblings who help him out, at least not while “Chowder”’s on.   I came in from outside Monday, drill in hand, to find the baby screaming on the floor and both the Princess and the Pea sitting on the couch not 3 feet away eyes glued on Spongebob.  Nice.

This morning I made them come outside and help clean up some of the cement from the recent demo of some steps.  They fought over the shovel, the work gloves, they even fought over the chunks of concrete (as if there weren’t enough of those around) and then started the whining.  finally I said, “hey I know what you can do, you can go sit on your lazy butts in front of the television.”  And they were gone.  Sarcasm (and therefore the majority of what I say) is so lost on my children.

After spending the last two days working on the kitchen and seeing through the window my precious children turning into precious lumps on the couch I finally lost it.  I unplugged the TV.

I know, drastic measures.  But I couldn’t, could not take it for one more minute.  The Princess threw a royal fit (something she’s been doing a lot since she got home from grandma’s).  And the Pea proceeded to follow me around literally hanging on my arm and asking when dinner was.  It was 12:30.

Seriously, these kids have bikes.  They have scooters (OK scooter, but still), they have a swing-set and a sandbox and a yard, all at their disposal.  Too safe?  Well, we are doing construction.  There are also hammers and all manner of nails and wood which they are allowed to play with and destroy ’til their little hearts are content. (I do have three boys after all)  There are rocks a plenty, and dirt in abundance.  I know if they put one ounce of effort into it they could get something really fun going.

But they don’t, they sit and whine and look for things to eat and whine and ask if they can play on the computer and whine.  I don’t love the whining but I think the TV may just stay unplugged for the rest of the summer.

Hey, Let’s Go To the Mall! June 30, 2008

When I got up this morning I dressed for construction.  Before the day was far spent I had been to the lumber yard, with the Pea and Irish1. Whatever possessed me to think that taking a five and a two year old boy to the lumber yard was a good idea I don’t know.  Needless to say, it wasn’t.  We left there with not enough joist hangers (to hang 5 joists you need ten hangers, not five) so we went back and got five more only to discover when we got home that they were the wrong ones (all of them) after all.  I haven’t been back yet.

I got home and cleaned.  And measured in preparation for cutting rim joists (not nearly as dirty as it sounds) and I nursed and yelled at the Pea and listened to Irish1 whine and ignored Irish2 crying (why won’t he just go to sleep?) and just did all my normal day stuff. But by about 5:00 (I say about because I had no way of knowing what time it actually was) I was done. D-O-N-E. Done.

So I handed the kids over to Sean and headed for the mall, a place which despite being located at the end of my street (just past the Costco) I hadn’t been to in at least three years, to replace the battery in my watch which had stopped working nearly two weeks ago (I hate not knowing what time it is) or possibly to just replace the watch itself, since I don’t really love it.  I was still dressed for construction, orange “Spartans” softball t-shirt I stole from a girl-friend in high school, denim shorts, no makeup.  Not the look I would have chosen but I wasn’t spending another minute at home even if it meant I went out looking like white trash.

The store closest to my home is a largish department store.  I’ll call it Nacey’s.  It was close, it was convenient and they sell watches, and presumably batteries, so I went in.

Ahhhh.  It was quiet.  It was clean.  No one referred to me as Mom mom mom mom mom.  It may have been heaven.  I went in for the battery, possibly a watch. But since I was already there- I really did need another pair of shorts, this long length that’s currently in style is highly convenient to a card carrying Mo like myself, I really ought to take advantage while I can.  And I realized as I got dressed this morning that I’ve lost a whole stack of shirts that I took out of my drawers last time I was pregnant.  So I’m low on shirts.  And did I mention that it was quiet and clean?

So I wandered around.  I picked up a couple pairs of shorts.  I made it to the watch counter.

Oooooh, look how pretty.  Wow I really like this one.  And it has a crystal face, a must, (I’m very hard on my watches) and it’s titanium, (I’m very very hard on my watches) and it has a cool metal mesh band that is infinitely adjustable, unlike the metal link ones, that always end up either too long or too short, or the  leather ones that stretch and wear out. (Did I mention how hard I am on my watches?)  And it’s so pretty.  And it’s $130.00.  Eeek.

I really do wear and love my watches (I say watches but I ought to make it clear that I only own one functioning watch at a time, I’m not the kind of girl that has a different watch to match her outfit.)  I probably get $130.00 worth of use out of them but- I couldn’t do it.  I couldn’t bring myself to pay $130.00 for a watch.  “I’ll think about it,” I told the woman at the counter.  I continued wandering the store.

8 days ago we took Irish1 to the ER for stitches.  He’s fine.  It’s not an interesting story so I won’t bother telling it, except for the part where he refused to stand on the scale.  So I held him and stood on the scale and then I handed him off to Sean and stood on the scale again.  I honestly couldn’t even begin to guess what Irish1 weighed.  But I know what I did. 117 lbs.  117.2 to be exact.  117 lbs!!!!  I don’t think I’ve been this skinny EVER! (Go ahead and hate me, I’m too thin for it to bother me.)  I weighed more that that by a minimum of five pounds when I was in high school.

So why is it that now that I’m at the smallest I’ve ever been, and let’s face it, the smallest I’m ever gonna be, maternity shirts are the height of fashion?!!  The high waists, the flowing lengths, come on people!  My stomach’s never gonna be this flat again, can’t I show that off?  Just a little?  I’m not looking for a bikini top here, I’m not even into showing my midriff, (aside from the undergarment issue there’s the fact that skinny does not equal anything in terms of muscle tone, or skin color) but I’d like something slightly form fitting.  Is that too much to ask?

Apparently it is.

I grabbed a couple possibilities from the little boy’s department (my secret source of cute, cheap t-shirts) and with my shorts and a skirt (the only one for under $50 I had seen ) headed for the fitting room.  One of the pairs of shorts was OK.

Alright, so I wasn’t doing fantastically but the shorts weren’t too expensive ($24) so having to look at myself, partially dressed, in the horribly unflattering light (fluorescent?  Really?  Don’t you want me to think I look good so I’ll buy something?) hadn’t been a complete waste of time.

I thought.

I really did need to get a watch.  I was trying to justify the $130.00.  I headed back to the watch counter and looked around.  There was a clearance rack on the counter, 40% off.  And there it was.  Angels sang, trumpets trumpeted and light shone from heaven right onto my watch, the same one I had loved before, in the clearance box.

“Um, can I see this one?” I asked.  The same woman (who now that I think about it may not have been my biggest fan since I kinda got her hopes up before about making a big sale and then I walked away.  But honestly, how could I have done any different?  They tuck the price tags under so you can’t get even an inkling of the price until they unlock the display case.  And how much could she have believed I was gonna buy it?  She could see what I was wearing, I was the walking definition of low budget.) unlocked this display case and handed me the watch.  Yes, it was the same one.  Titianium, crystal, pretty.

“What’s the clearance price on this?”  I asked, unable to do the math in my head what with all the excitement.

“Let’s see how it rings up,” she says.

“It’s $130.00,” she says.

“But it’s on clearance.”

“No, it’s not, I guess someone put it away in the wrong place.”

That’s it?  Yup, that was it.  I probably could have fought it, asked to see the manager.  I know suburbancoorespondant would have but I was too deflated by this point.  I had been considering paying the full price but after seeing it at 40% off (and having that little dream snatched away) I couldn’t even consider it.  I took my shorts and wandered off to buy them.

I went to five different “service centers.”  Apparently the woman at the watch counter is the only person who works at Nacey’s.  I found a rack, hung up my shorts and left.

I glanced around a few other stores in the mall, $50 for that?  It’s not even a whole shirt, really?  Who buys this stuff?

There was a kiosk in the middle of the mall.  It had a sign that said they replaced watch batteries on site.  There were some watches for sale too.  They weren’t cute.  “I give a discount for Spartans,” the man working there said.

I walked away.

But let’s face it, this trip was not going to end well.  I walked back.  “How much for a new battery in my watch?”

“$8.00 but for you I’ll do it for 7.”

I’m sure I could have talked him down to 5.  I paid 7 and walked straight through Nacey’s looking neither to the right nor to the left (5,000,000 because I can’t remember) on my way home.

I now remember why I haven’t been to the mall in three years.   I think I’ll stick with Zarget.