Going west

I love this nail polish, Orly, Alabaster Verve, which says absolutely nothing.  I would name it Raspberry Sherbert, kind of frosty but more shimmery.

Tell me you care.

My daughter brought me some polish by butter of London, a more natural solution in the world of nail art.  I love it.  Foundation plus color plus protective clear coat and voila, nails grow long enough to make them worth coloring.

Do you care yet?

When you’re my age, trim means a lot more than it used to before the chin line got wavy and the waistline wandered.

Other than nails, the important stuff, I have to fix my cell phone.  (Nails to cell phones? Slow day)  For the longest time, I’ve been accusing callers of breaking up and having a poor signal and you sound like you’re in a well or a fish tank, you’re cutting out, you’re gargling.  It finally dawned on me that not all of them could have poor signals, but my phone could be receiving badly.

I was told by the guys at the Radio Shack next door to my company where I signed up for my Sprint phone a year ago that the only place to repair it under my repair contract is about 25 miles west.  “But I got it here.” (we’re sorry) “Did you buy the Radio Shack repair contract?” No. “Well, then….”(we’re sorry)….

New management.  I don’t like them.

Yesterday I yahooed Sprint stores.  Wow, there’s a Sprint store at the mall by me off 640.  I called the number, they had the ear piece for my phone, all I had to do was walk in and they could get the job done in 90 min.  So off to Knoxville Center.  “Honey, can you meet me at the mall? I can drop my phone off, we can eat Chinese food at the food court while they repair it.”

It’s a kiosk.  (we’re sorry) The store closed in January.  The only Sprint repair is at the one out near West Town mall, now 30 miles the other way. “I swear I talked to a human this morning at a phone number assigned to this location and he said….!”

I’ll take the chicken and the noodles.  Iced tea, un-sweet.” To those north of the Mason/Dixon line, you have to specify un-sweet or you get two minute type 2 diabetes.

I really love this nail color.

Montezuma has nothing on Chinese Revenge.  I suspect the leftover gunpowder not used in the fireworks from 14 road side tents made its way into the alleged chicken at the food court in East Knoxville.  Just call me Shots.  After the “dust” settled, I called Nancy.

“Just wanted to confirm you guys are coming over Saturday.”

“Sure!”

“And I have to run an errand…”

“Sure!”

“And I want to see if that pendant is still at the….”

“And I need to go to the party store for some wedding shower stuff.”

She’s a hard sell.

“I’ll pick you up Saturday morning sometime after 10. Or so.”  That means I have to tidy up before Saturday. Cleaning off the dining room table is the pits.  I suppose I could do the one armed sweep if I can find a box the right size.

Tomorrow is Thursday, my late day.  We’ve been reduced to 39 hours when there’s not extra work that warrants OT.  It’s early in the month and the work load is light.  I get to sleep in an extra hour this week although I may make the best of the extra time and see what I can find for my daughter-in-law’s birthday Friday!! She won’t get it on time again this year but isn’t it best when your birthday is stretched out? (no)

In other words, I have a June/July birthday block.  I was always caught short on my father-in-law, my brother-in-law, my sister-in-law — do I see an in-law pattern here? Once you identify a pattern, you can break it, right?  I promise I’ll be more efficient next year.

Saturday I will go west to fix my phone, check out a necklace pendant I mentioned for a birthday present, pick up party stuff and — oh, lunch! We have to do lunch!  And…oh! yarn!  And rhinestones at JoAnn Fabrics … !

Y’know, sometimes I shouldn’t be let out of the house.

Afterglow

It was not as I planned.

The church van pulled into the driveway and eleven women spilled out with bundles, bags, pillows, sleeping bags and various forms of food, most of which included chocolate.  As they filed into the house I was embarrassed to realize that I couldn’t pin names to familiar faces which is the downside of a growing church with two services.  Add to that the fact that I’m part of the praise team for the second service and sometimes in skits for both, so they see me on the platform and I can’t always catch up with them after service.  I felt better when it became apparent that many of them didn’t know each other.

It didn’t take long to break the ice and load the plates.  We had brownies, hot fudge and ice cream, turtle cream cheese cake, carmel corn, cookies, butterfinger cake, and more.  Let us not forget the litres of coke.

I’d planned for a high energy night.  The games were stacked, the carefully selected movies filled two shelves, plenty to choose from.  I had cleaned the porch, the refrigerator, the sheets, the extra makeup brushes, and made sure I had a fresh bottle of polish remover and plenty of cotton balls.  But the evening did not go as planned.

We played Balderdash, then we started talking.  Midnight came, two had to leave early, the rest of us continued getting to know each other, share kid stories, jokes, and girltalk.  Once in a while someone would suggest a movie or another game but oddly, it was never seconded.  We talked.

….until 4 am.

Leigh slid slowly down the side of the sofa and gently tipped over.  BTW, did you girls know that’s a reclining sofa?

Next, Nancy shuffled into the room with the air mattress.  Hey, Nanc, there are 3 beds you’re ignoring .. too late.  She was down and not getting up.  Michelle rolled out her sleeping bag on a bed.  Steph parked the coffee table in the kitchen and herself in her sleeping bag where she stood.  Dot, our only senior whose joints work better than a gymnast’s, curled up behind the dining room table next to the wall.  She wisely decided that the table would protect her from being tripped on by anyone on the way to the bathroom.  Beth laid back where she’d been sitting in front of the TV.  I saw the empty queen bed, announced to the immovables that there were two soft bed spaces available.  They were down, and I needed a crane to change that.

As I was turning out my light, I heard Jackie say as she tapped her toothbrush, “I think I got my second wind!” We drifted off to the tune of giggles and whispers.

Approximately 9:00, eleven rumpled, blurry lookin’ women loaded up half empty dishes, bunched their blankets and pillows, thanked me for a wonderful time and sort of fell into the van.

Sunday morning, people asked me how the party went.  I had planned a report of fixing hair and nails, laughing over games, sitting on the deck and upsetting the neighbors, and telling scary and/or gross stories  — you know, a slumber party.  Instead, we bunched in the same room, afraid we’d miss something someone said if we broke away.

We talked.  We shared.  All night.  And it was right.