14 Years Equals A Trip Around the World TWICE

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 The kid is an irish dancer.  For anyone who has a child who partakes in the irish dance world (or any major sport for that matter) you understand that it will cost DH and me enough to send her to Harvard 3 times over by the time she is done (ok, I’m exaggerating just a little, but still…).

I was day dreaming today and thinking of all the things I could do if she decided to just join the debate club at school instead.  I felt the need to share to put it all into perspective:

  • 1 year of tuition x 14 years = one in-ground pool
  • 3 solo dresses = a 2-bedroom apartment in NYC’s Upper West Side for a month
  • 3 team dresses = LASIK surgery for my left eye
  • Wigs & Crowns = Tiffany necklace
  • Soft shoes, hard shoes and poodle socks = 27 inch iMac
  • Private lessons (really stupid since we pay an arm and a leg for tuition) = a full body massage
  • 7 years going to Regionals = A 2.5 week trip for two to Hawaii
  • Going to Worlds once (secretly hoping it stays that way) = LASIK surgery for my right eye
  • 14 years of local competitions = One master bathroom renovation
  • Dress alterations = full body massage PLUS facial & manicure
  • 1 happy kid = Priceless or I have to have my head examined, whichever way you want to look at it

When I signed her up, I had no idea what was coming.  Not one person warned me that it would turn into a 4 class a week, competition led sport.  Not ONE!

To add insult to injury the kid loves it.  She dances around the house all day, all night.  Down the hallway, in the shower, during dinner.  If you ever run into us at the mall, you probably will catch a performance.  Rally one, Rally two.  AAAAHHHHH!!!!!!

So, instead of a trip around the world TWICE, I get to sit at competitions all day long.  Who can relate in one form or another? Let’s see, 3 years, 4 months and 21 days until our money is ours again.  Oh wait.  I forgot about college.  Never mind.

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year…NOT

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And I’m not talking about Christmas either.  The kid has been a member of the Girls Scouts since 2003.  I love the good ole’ Girl Scouts.  I talk them up every chance I get.  My daughter has learned so much from being a GS.  She can light a fire (I mean camp, and she better keep it that way), she can pitch a tent, she is a master crafter, she has learned respect.  And last but not least, she can make new friends AND keep the old.

One thing she is not good at…selling GS Cookies. Nope, somehow that has become MY job.  What happened to the days of those cute little girl scouts going door to door?  Perhaps it was the realization that there are perverts and child molesters lurking about.

Yup, so in order to keep her safe, I took over the job.  Her leader (God bless her, I don’t know how she does it…in other words, better her than me.) would like for each of them to have a goal of 50 boxes sold.  Sure right okay, as soon as I charter that first flight to Mars.

Look, I know people SAY they look forward to GS cookie time, but do they really?  I have been asking, begging, promising favors in return, for my friends, family, coworkers to buy for years.

It’s for a good cause.  Yes, you can freeze them.  No, you don’t have to pay now.  You’re on a diet?  Well you can donate cookies to the food pantry because they are so nutritious.  My personal favorite complaint: “but they are $3.50 everywhere else.”

So, every year, I moan, groan and bitch when I see that blasted cookie order form and start on my quest to fill the orders.

On my honor, I will try….oh, who wants cookies???

For the Love of a Log

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Everyone knows how much I love the grocery store.  Well, I didn’t go just once this week, I went TWICE.  Why, you ask?  Because I’m the dumb ass who forgot something, or some things.  Forgetting stuff during Can-Can week is a mortal sin in my book.

I was expecting some friends over Monday night and in addition to some essentials I had, um…forgotten, I wanted to get one of those Dura-Logs so we could have a nice cozy fire.

Anyway, I can’t find the damn log.  I have been up and down every dang isle TWICE looking for it.  I wish Shop Rite would stop moving crap around.  To top it off, I can’t find a single staff member.

I’m ready to sock the idea when I finally see not one, but two store employees talking amongst themselves at the end cap of isle number 14.  I squeeze in as closely as I can to avoid being stampeded and stare at them for a good half minute hoping to catch their attention.  They look at me and continue on.  Great.

So, just to recap real quick…I’m pissed because I’ve walked all over the f’ing store not once, but twice.  I can’t find a single employee who can help me and when I do find an employee, I’m completely ignored.  Oh, and I’m dodging can-loving freaks like bullets.  Do I sound like I’m in a good mood???

Suddenly, I hear this — “look lady, pick a direction and move in it.”  When I look up, I realize he is speaking to me.  He reminded me of Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz with his fingers pointed in both directions, but not so cute.  “You’re holding up traffic.”  Geez, if he only had a brain.

The look I shot Scarecrow could have frozen the Amazon.  I think I actually saw fear in his eyes.  And the log?  I passed the whole blasted stack of ’em coming in the front door.