Many of my friends are incredibly organized, and I covet that trait. I spend a ton of time and money at The Container Store and subscribe to Real Simple magazine in hopes that I will one day become organized - a place for everything and everything in it's place... Typically I can hide my flaw behind closed doors and in bins, so no one would ever guess. But if you open up the drawer underneath the kitchen telephone -- the "junk drawer" -- you will get a great visual of my true lack of organization. It's the drawer where we throw all the little things that don't quite have a place.
So this is kind of a "junk drawer" excerpt -- all the things that don't really have their own place but are worth sharing.
Last Sunday, ChellBell went to cheer practice and attempted her first cartwheel since the horrid broken arm incident. I suggested it, and she looked at me with that are-you-out-of-your-mind look. But then her best friend, Anne, did a beautiful cartwheel, and ChellBell just had to keep up (love that healthy peer pressure). Her cartwheel isn't quite what it used to be, but at least she's back in the proverbially saddle... The coach was sweet and gave her the VIP cowbell for practice that day to reward her bravery.
My birthday was Tuesday, and Chris suggested we spend the night cleaning the house. We ended up going to the mall and bought 12 pair of socks for ChellBell because she's always losing socks.
Last night Chris and I were scheduled to have date-night (sadly the definition has changed significantly over the years...). The accompanist for my singing group was having his senior recital down in Dallas, and afterwards the girls in the group were hosting a small reception for him at one of the member's (absolutely stunning) home. Chris got ChellBell squared away with the sitter and met me after work so we could ride down to the recital together. Now don't get the idea that Chris was in any way excited about going. I requested that he join me for the evening so he could hear this gentleman's talent -- an absolutely gifted pianist.
Unfortunately, we got a bit of a late start to the recital but thought we would quietly sneak into the Hall. We got down to the University about 15 minutes after the start time. My blood didn't start to boil until we had circled the campus three times -- now 45 minutes late -- trying to find a parking spot. The recital was only supposed to last an hour, so we decided to give up and head over to the reception site. At this point I really, really needed to pee.
We reached the reception home, but no one came to the door (I guessed they were still at the performance). The bigger problem was that I desperately needed to find a restroom. PANIC. I jumped in the car and told Chris to haul it to the closest restaurant or public bathroom. We drove and drove -- I'm starting to get stretch marks at this point -- and found ourselves at the Popeye's Chicken in the not-so-nice area that surrounds the incredibly-nice area where the party was to be held. Popeye's or not, Nice area or not, I had to go, and nothing was going to stop me. Except that someone was in the Ladies bathroom and the door was locked.
So I used the men's restroom.
There is no way that I am going to describe that restroom to you because you would lose your appetite for the next three days. Suffice it to say that it was the worst restroom experience ever. (Except that I actually got to pee, and that was quite a relief)
Meanwhile, Chris decided that he needed to order a "snack" in exchange for restroom usage. So we waited in the line at Popeye's for 20 minutes. Of course we had to wait in a scary Popeye's Chicken with a nasty bathroom for 20 minutes instead of enjoying a nice evening of music and champagne. That just makes sense.
Finally, we made it back to the reception, and a few friends were there. We waited around for nearly an hour, and still no guests (I guess the supposedly 1 hour recital turned into a 2+ hour show), so Chris and I finally headed home. And picked up Number 1 combos from Wendy's for dinner.
And that was date night.
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