So, between the $450 for the Washington trip for Shelby (graciously covered by my brother and sister) and the $800 I spent yesterday, I think she's good to go.
Yeah - $800. I hate Marshall's. Love it, too.
So, she got three pairs of pants, only one of which she actually needed for the trip because I would be damned he she was going to tour the White House in her chain-decorated, metal-detector-tripping goth flight pants. DKNY, Hilfigger, Claiborne. Yeah, baby! A pair of Van's clones that she loved so much when she bought them the first time that she REFUSED to buy a pair of Air Nikes that looked PRECISELY the same because they "didn't fit." Un-hunh. Five weeks we waited for size 10s to come in (it's a man's shoe.) Finally, just in the nick of time, they arrive. See, she was prepared to duct-tape the hole in the bottom of the left one so that she could keep wearing them.
Don't think I sacrificed myself to the fashion gods for the sake of my daughter, though. Since Dulcy the Dog has decorated my good Sperrys with incisor-shaped air-holes, I got, on clearance, for $25, a pair of Borns with butter-soft leather uppers, thus saving myself $100. I couldn't believe my luck. When I got them home, I HID them from the canine and her canines. I also got some Nunn Bush NXXT casuals that are way cooler than the dirty-white and grass-stained NB, Addidas and Nike that the sub-urban crowd don for lawn torture on the weekends. But wait: there's more . . .
She needed miniature-sized ablution gear, such as miniature shampoo, miniature deodorant, miniature face wash, miniature body wash, miniature SPF 30 sport sunblock, miniature tissues in case she sneezes in the presence of Laura (though I encouraged her that, should such a faux pas occur, she simply continue and shake Mrs. Bush's hand vigorously, without wiping beforehand) miniature toothpaste, a new, full-sized Oral B toothbrush and a polka-dotted travel case to house these supplies. Of course, since we were already shopping, we also picked up the full-sized version of the foregoing, since, well, she was "out." Right.
At WalMart, part two of this shopping bacchanal, we obtained cranberry and grapefruit juice, a box of Bisquick, the previously-mentioned Vans clones, black flip-flops with camo pattern on the foot sole surface, a hazelnut creme (their spelling, not mine, oh, how fancy) candle, a new razor blade pour moi, since she's co-opted all of mine to scrape her hairy bits during her hour-long showers (reminder: pay town for water bill).
All I can say is "Ca-Ching!" Today, I launder my new undies, low-rise, of course, since the last batch I got was from WalMart and was strangling and crushing my naughty bits: comfort guaranteed, indeed. Maybe they had eunuchs in mind when they designed them. Of course, I'll be laundering everything else that we bought as well as what hadn't been done this week. I figured six loads, plus folding and ironing where needed. In between, there will be lunch and dinner to prepare and I promised to talk to that certain evil someone about budgeting and why I need to move to Roselle and "get the fuck out of Dodge." So, I'll be looking forward to that - the laundry, that is.
Oh, and I bought gas, but you know about that already. And I paid for breakfast with my brother who, ironically, spent most of the time doling out financial advice, apparently forgetting that I did Estate Planning when I was a pup. I smiled and listened intently, nodding (not nodding out) at all the right intervals, chiming in with an occasional "absolutely" and "too true." The Eggs Benedict at the Empire Diner in Parsippany were (was?) pretty good. After he was done, we stood outside the diner for literally a minute. He needed directions to 287. "Don't you mean 280?" I said. No - he explained that Barry, the guy he once referred to as his "real brother", was coming in from Baltimore and that he had to get his propane tank refilled or Route 10. Go figure.
Fun in the sun was had by all this day. I can think of a summer song or two that's appropriate. I'm humming them now. Can you hear it?