See ya, November

As I sip my coffee and look out at my front yard, I am reminded that one holiday month ends today and another begins tomorrow.  In the Black Friday and Cyber Monday chaos and craziness, I am so thrilled not to participate.  Today I know I have choices.  Lots of them.

Many years ago, I thought I didn't have any choices and in some cases I didn't.  Those days are gone.  Long gone.  This holiday season I plan to do more service, go in love, be kind, help others where I can, and take care of myself first--not last.  Like they tell you on a plane, if the cabin loses pressure, put on your own oxygen mask first.  Then you can really be of help to others.

Lots of us growing up learned that backwards.  We were told that to take care of ourselves first was somehow wrong, selfish, self centered.  Nothing could be more untrue.  If I take care of myself first, I have something left over to share.  If I don't .....well, you get the picture. 

Resting, avoiding the insanity where it lurks, honoring myself and my feelings, honoring yours, getting outside in nature, being with little kids, and loving you from a distance-- if that's what's required-- is still LOVE.  LOVE is not a one size fits all emotion.  It looks different at everyone's house and in everyone's lives.  For some people, love has to look a certain way for it to truly be categorized as love, or it doesn't count.  It has to fit in a certain predetermined mold and we all have to act a certain way, whether that's how we feel or not.   Yikes.  That's not love.  That's control.  That's dysfunctional. 

This holiday season I'm concentrating on recognizing and knowing my own limits.  I'm going to endeavor to really feel all my feelings--even the uncomfortable ones.  I'm going to laugh more and angst less.

Today that's where my true joy and peace reside.

*** Please remind me of this if I take a pre-Christmas nose dive.  Repetition strengthens and confirms.***

Hahahaha....

Funniest line on FB yesterday.  As last minute grocery shoppers were complaining about the crowds, one gal from LA commented "I just went to Whole Foods.  It's easier to get into Syria".

Probably true.  :)

Ohhhh, Flounder....

While I snuggled with Sis this morning, Bruce showed me this photo of a friend's dog.  I could sooo relate.  It seems Flounder was left alone for awhile, didn't appreciate it in the least, so he did what all hounds do to retaliate--he drug out the trash.  All I can say is, at least he had fun.

I've come home to a few works of art like that and while it royally pisses me off, it also makes me laugh.  Look at that face.  Omg. Sooo busted.

Gobble, Gobble.  Flounder sure did.

I love my block!

Yesterday was a total hoot.  The seated lunch for Baby John next door was warm, fuzzy, and like family without all the drama.  Claire was beyond the cutest gal ever and seated at tiny kids tables, all of the kids were remarkably well behaved.  Score for their parents!  Well behaved children are always a credit to the time and effort their parents spend with them setting limits.  This bunch was phenomenal and their parents were so fun--at least the ones we were seated with--and even though we were the "oldsters" at the table, we felt like we fit right in, minus the wrinkles.

I was informed by one of the older little girls present that Claire and John's dog, Buddy, had "passed away".  (I had asked where he was thinking he was hidden in a back bedroom somewhere.  Oops.)  It seems old Buddy was old, not well, and just grumpy.  He had snapped at both kids recently and actually nipped Baby John's cheek a few weeks back, so when they went on a weekend trip last weekend, so did he.  Permanently. 

On arriving back home after that l-o-n-g walk across the driveway, we were remarking at how much we love our neighbors and our block.  Bruce remarked that we are sort of the " in town adopted grandparents next door" and we decided we LOVE that designation.

It was at lunch that we also found out about a single mom (and good friend of one of our lunch mates) who had moved in yesterday across the street from us, with her four kids, post a very recent divorce.  Ouch.  When we got home, out came the brownies I had made, onto a paper plate they went, and across the street I went to meet them all.  The mom was unpacking her car from a grocery run and looked exhausted, so I gave her the brownies, told her all my info was on the card on top, and to holler if she needed anything--our house was the one with the red front door.  I told her I was a retired nurse, adored kids, to let us help her if we could, and gave her a big hug.  Cue the tears.  We ended up laughing.  I know...it was the hug. 

The Invisible String

In a little bit we'll be heading over next door for Baby John's Christening lunch.  (Bruce had to sing both services at church or we'd have gone to the actual Christening.)  As I wrapped Baby John's gift, I was thinking about the importance of honoring other people's religious and spiritual beliefs.  Since I was raised an Episcopalian at the very church where today's service is taking place, I realized while I know what that particular Church's belief is, I really don't know what his parent's spiritual path and beliefs might be.  No matter what I believe, it's hugely important for me to be mindful and respectful of the beliefs or spiritual practice of others.

With that in mind, I bought Baby John a children's book called The Invisible String.  It's a short story about two little twins--boy and a girl--who become afraid of being separated from their mom during a noisy thunder storm so their mom explains the idea of the Invisible String--the one that ties us all together, always and forever, even when we can't see each other or when someone is already in Heaven.  

It's the sweetest story and is such a comforting way to explain an otherwise abstract concept that no matter what, no matter what we believe or how we practice our religion or spiritual lives, or even where we are, we are all connected.  We are all one.

I thought it was a wonderful concept to remember, as we enter this holiday season.

We are just back from a Petco run and are now loaded with dog food and a few dog cookies from the cookie bar.  I couldn't find Sis's favorite from last time, the peanut butter ones so I branched out to the Strawberry Peanut butter ones.  They look just like an Oreo, only pink, and it took me clutching the bag to keep the driver from tasting them as he drove home.  Seriously....that guy will eat anything if he thinks it has sugar in it.

Sis also scored a few animal crackers but I thought that was a little odd...cookies of animals for dogs to eat.  I also got her the heart healthy ones that are also for her joints.  Knowing her, she'll hate those.  Too healthy so fagedaboudit.

I just finished making the cornbread for my dressing.  It's cool and in a ziplock and I'll do the other prep in a day or two so throwing it all together is fast and easy.  Brian came by last night on a wood run and wanted to know what we are having on Thanksgiving.  I almost said liver but he knows I won't touch the stuff.  What he was really checking out was had I ditched the old favorites and replaced them with some other kind of nonsense or was I doing the usual.  I told him the usual, minus the queso green bean casserole.  I say queso because you add Velvetta to it and by then well, hell.....you might as well have made queso.  He didn't throw too big a rod over me nixing it, considering I'm trying to protect all of our arteries and it's one less tonnage element to deal with.

In closing, let me just say I did show Sis's dad a little girl's dog dress- up Christmas dress (black velvet and plaid taffeta swirly skirt) for Sis, while he attempted to pay at the check out.  But I saved the worst for last.  A Mrs. Claus dog dress with sparkles......oh, Sis....you could so own that dress.

Enuf already

With all due respect, I don't want to hear another word about the JFK assassination.  It was horrendous, it has not improved any with time, so let's be done with it.  Dredging back up all of that pain and terror benefits no one except school kids learning history, so take them to the Museum downtown on a field trip and let the rest of us move on.  Sometimes life is hard enough without reliving traumatic events. 

'Nuf said and that's just how I see it.

Siblings

OK...I admit it.  I'm one of those women.  The kind that laugh and have a best friend relationship with my hair dresser.  Kevin is the funniest person alive and we both truly believe were brother and sister in another life.  We tell family stories back and forth and it's a competition to see if we can shock each other.  Sadly, it never happens. 

 When he told me he calls one of his sisters "Jan Brady", is when I realized that is me-- in my family.  Even though she's bratty and pesky, Kevin says she's the only sibling he can deal with.  His younger brother is developmentally disabled and his older sister is....well, let's just say.... a piece of work.

Kevin was describing the latest skirmish between his sisters over a butt ugly piece of crystal, his parents bought in Germany a hundred years ago.  Kevin told "Jan" to just take the damn thing home next time she's  at their mom's, and that's when she admitted she didn't really even want it--she just didn't want the older sister to have it.  I almost fell out of his chair laughing  Isn't that the most "sibling" thing you've ever heard?  Don't all sibs do that?

I see you shaking you head like "No, I never did that" and I also see your nose growing, Pinocchio. You know you did.  I did, too.

Just call me Jan.

          "Marsha, Marsha, Marsha !!!"                                                       

   


 

Wood Thief

I'm slowly ticking the things off my Thanksgiving list.  Got my fresh turkey ordered at Whole Foods this morning, pie choices have been made by the chief, and he just told me to"make a cherry gallette with canned cherry filling" instead of with the frozen peaches I lovingly stashed in the freezer from this summer.  What is he smoking?  Does he really think there's even a glimmer of hope that's ever gonna happen?  Nuh, huh.  I told him I'd buy him a can of cherry pie filling at Tom Thumb and he can just eat it straight from the can.  Sometimes he can be so trailer park.

I have been fiddling with what I want to use for a TG center piece and table design.  I love doing stuff like this and so far I've got antlers, pine cones, colored fall leaves, and heaven only knows what else will make the cut for my table.  Dragging it all out is half the fun. 

Last but not least, when Brian was by for dinner last week, it was still frosty and he wanted some fire wood for his place.  We said "sure" so out he went to toss some logs into the bed of his truck.  The next thing he knows, a neighbor is stopping in his car telling him "to quit stealing fire wood!"  Brian told the man "My parents live here and I have their OK".  The neighbor knew that in the past another person had helped themselves to our wood without our OK, so he was just being neighborly.  Brian loaded up and called me to tell me what had just gone down and we both howled.

Cut to right now.  The same neighbor just came down the alley in his car with two of his kids, rolls down his window, and we both start laughing.  By now he knows I know what happened, and that Brian is who he said he was.  Between bursts of laughter, he told me he'd even taken down Brian's plate number and checked him out, to be sure he was who he said he was. 

I luvvvvv my neighbors.   They are always good for a laugh! 




   

Wow

I greeted.  I seated.  I'm pooped, and Feast of Sharing is in the can.  I don't know how many people I greeted/seated or how many miles I walked but suffice it to say I am done.  In fact, after 3 hours of non-stop standing, walking, shouting to be heard over the music and being "ON" with no break, I finally went over to the drinks station and got a water for myself and a Sprite for one of my gal pals from the Potter's House.  Those ladies were a complete hoot and let me be a pretend "Potter" for the day.  I got to be a real "sista girl" and loved it.

Once the gates opened, our greeter job was to step forward into the flow of humanity, welcome them and ask a guest how many in their party, immediately start walking them towards the tables and seat them, while pointing out all of the freebies, and hoof it back for the next one.  Think of a rushing river of hungry people and you've pretty much got it.  Guests in wheel chairs went to the ends of tables so a chair could easily be removed for them.  The first several hundred guests were easy until all the tables in the Centennial building started filling up.  Guests were allowed to enjoy the music and stay and eat as much as they wanted for as long as they wanted.  Many were with family and/or friends.  As some folks vacated the table, you had to find a spot for the ones just coming in.  Volunteers with signs were to help you spot empty places, but walking, talking, and looking to find a clean spot, and being friendly and welcoming as you did it, is a lot going at warp speed.  For me anyway.

Did I mention these guests wanted to eat?  Well, they DID.  I schlepped extra plates of food and beverages when necessary and when one elderly man asked me "Can I eat again?", it thrilled me down to my tennis shoes to personally hand him another loaded plate.  After the pumpkin pie, there was a Bluebell truck inside the building with dixie cups for anyone who wanted it and, honey, they did.  Shazam.  Food disappeared right before your eyes.

There were Medical tables where your blood pressure could be checked and I couldn't see what was happening at the Dental table...maybe free toothbrushes.  There were jumping houses for the kids, face painting, pictures with Santa, free new socks for anyone needing them, and most did.  Some people spent the night last night outside the building, in order to get a free meal, and come inside to be treated like people. 

I'm so glad I did it and I'm so glad it doesn't happen again for another year.  I'm whupped. 

Jeepers

I found out earlier today (the hard way) that I am not the only one around here that likes banana bread.  I had pulled a loaf from the freezer earlier this morning and decided I needed to quality test it a little while ago.  Sis positioned herself so I would be sure not to "forget" about her.  Like that would eeeeeven be possible.  To torture her a little, I turned around, with my back to her.  To the other side of me she went, giving me the "I am helpless, homeless, and starving" look.  She had everything but a little sign to hold up.

I have zero tolerance for that look so I gave her a bite just like I always do.  She snarfed it and then began the campaign for more.  I knew she loved pecans but was unclear about bananas.  I guess combined with butter and sugar, anything is a go.  Bananas?  Why not.

Yesterday was a wild day for one Benji Harris.  As many of you know, Scarletta was involved in a bad wreck that totaled their van and trailer and tossed instruments, drums cases, and cymbals into the ditch they rolled over into.  About a half mile or less from their hotel for the night, they hit black ice and if you've ever experienced it, you know that helpless feeling as you watch yourself careen into what ever is in your path.  In their case, it was the median.  It's a miracle no one was seriously hurt though Emilee got a nice goose egg and small cut on her head.  Bumps, bruises, and cuts, and the good news is, they are all OK.  Benji was not with them, as he'd flown to Miami for Andrea's birthday.  He was to have flown someplace to meet the band for their next show but the wreck changed all that.  Instead yesterday he was desperately trying to get back to Nashville to help them unload when they arrived home, and do whatever he could to give them all a chance to rest and process what had just happened and meet with the insurance adjuster.  

His wonderful MIL drove him thirty minutes to Fort Lauderdale to catch an earlier flight, and with a two hour layover at DFW, we had planned to go see him.  Then he called saying that that his flight out was delayed.  No layover.  He'd be lucky to catch his connection on to Nashville.  Next call I get is, he's on the ground taxiing to the gate, has to change terminals, and has 15 minutes to make it to his connecting flight or we'll need to go get him, and let him spend the night with us.

Cue the Mission Impossible music.  He's already asked the flight crew to alert the other flight he's on his way and not to shut the door, pleeeeze.  Polite smile.  They don't hold flights anymore.  Tick...tick...tick.  I'm about to put my clothes back on to head for DFW when the phone rings.  I answered and said "I'm on my way" when he says "I ran like Forrest Gump and made the plane".   At this point, I can't stop laughing.  I have a bad visual in my head of him hauling a** through DFW, dragging his carry on, probably wearing cowboy boots.  OMG.  Such is the life of a musician or at least this one anyway. Onward to a new safe van and thank you to all for your prayers for Scarletta.  I know they felt every single one.

Tomorrow is my FOS (Feast of Sharing) volunteer day at Fair Park and my job is Host/Greeter.  I figure that may be one of the better jobs, if you don't want to wear gravy for 4.5 hours.  I'll know more tomorrow after my shift so stay tuned.  This ought to be a hoot!   

Today's lesson

After this afternoon, I am a little stunned.  Today was my afternoon to be of service a la Jury Duty at the Municipal Court building downtown.  I packed my little bag with all of the things I knew would pass security and would keep me occupied during my allotted 1-4:30 (?) shift.  You know what I'm saying...I had a bag full of design and clothes magazines, a bottle of water, and my phone charger just in case.

This was a much smaller jury pool than I'd ever encountered before but it was basically the same drill.  Sign in, turn in your summons, put your phone on silent, watch the video, meet the judge and get sworn in.  And then a miracle happened.  Our Bailiff started talking to us, made us all laugh, and then went person by person and had us state our name and our occupation.  Not only did he entertain us and make funnies as he went around to each person, but he personally thanked people for what they did for a living.  By the time we were finished, we all felt like we knew each other.  We were "connected" for that afternoon.  We "related" to each other and lots of us ended up yick-yacking together during the breaks. 

Some of us walked out the back door together to go get coffee at the 7-Eleven behind the building.  The Bailiff had told us right where it was and called it his "Starbucks".  As you might imagine, that downtown 7-Eleven had some interesting looking customers.  One man handed me a cardboard ring for my coffee to protect my fingers.  When I dropped a dollar on the ground, another man who looked like he sure could use it, pointed it out to me.  When I got to the counter, the clerk could not have been kinder.  I'm not talking about that blow off kind of kindness.  I'm talking the kind you can feel across the counter.  Real.  Legitimate.  Holy cow...where am I?

By this point, my brain is trying like crazy to figure out what's going on here.  What is this?  It feels so good...and that's when I realized this is just how it feels when people are kind and caring to each other.  We don't have to have ever met, for us to be w-a-y on down in the kindness thing.  I'm talking that deep, soft, gentle feeling that wraps around you and is impossible to refuse because it simply feels so good.  You see it in people's eyes and hear it in their voice.  People are laughing, patiently waiting in line, just beeeeeeing.

Holy moly.  The jury duty I dreaded and got let out of early, turned out to be my gift for the day.  Just goes to show me gifts come from all kinds of places.  Even Municipal Court.  

Monday...Monday...Monday

If you haven't had the cranberry bread from Eatzi's I'm suggesting it as a Thanksgiving must.  Breakfast, lunch, dinner, at night before bed (Snack Man Harris) it is by far and away one of my favorites and with the cranberries, well, it just fits the season.  I am having mine now, lightly toasted, with my coffee and it is just rocking my clock.  It has a little bit of candied ginger in it, too, or as Bruce refers to it, " that funky taste."   He ate it and went back for more--just wanted to know what it was.

Tonight I was planning to fire up my Big Green Egg and smoke some chicken but now I am leaning toward BBQ chick-chick on the grill.  I haven't done either in quite awhile so before it get's cold tomorrow, I thought I'd get outside and get my cook on.

Over the weekend, Sis finally made it to the Vet thanks to her dad.  I had made the appointment but lay down for a little while--wasn't feeling great--and woke up at 5:30 PM.  Since Sis was beginning to look like Edward Scissordog, it was high time for nails to get clipped and a spot on her tail to be looked at.  Turns out she has a cyst on her tail and we can just leave it alone.  Since she wouldn't let me see it, I figured we might better check it out.  Just one more bump on an otherwise lumpy old girl.

She also got another bath as she was all stinky again.  I have no research to support my theory but I am suggesting that older dogs get stinky faster than younger pups.  Why?  Because they just do.  Maybe because their parts are running on old.  I don't know.  I just know a fresh dog is a goooood dog and gets lots more kisses.                                  

     Happy Veteran's Day to all our service men and women, those living and dead, and thank you for your service.  I am deeply grateful to you all.                                                        

Nic and Hardie, Frank and Sam

Yesterday after lunch and a quick stop at Eatzi's for bread, we pulled in for a Nicholsen-Hardie scope out.  It's one of my most favorite places to visit and even if I don't buy a single thing, I still walk out happy.  Specifically, I have enjoyed all the garden beauty and visited my cat friends.

Now way back when, there used to be two litter mates that were the in house live- in cat-greeters.  They were Nic and Hardie and were quite a pair.  According to the owner, they fought, they played, they chased each other and tore the place up after hours.  It was a daily occurrence to unlock in the morning and have to clean up plants they'd chewed, plants and gifts they'd knocked off and broken playing chase, and that was in the days before they had as many gift items as they do now.   During the day, they were mostly nice guys but no one cried much when they went to the big Cat Colony in the sky.  (One actually got run over in the alley out back.) 

Enter Frank (gray) and Sam (orange marmalade).  Frank is the more laid back of the two and his main job is lounging.  If lounging was ever an Olympic event, he'd bring home the Gold for sure.  Fat and friendly, rarely is he spotted vertical and if he is, it's for one of two reasons.  When it's cold, on some Sunday afternoons you used to find find him lying up front at the check out counter sprawled out by the printer.  It was the epic spot for napping due to the warm air blowing on him from the printer, proximity to the staff, and all the attention he scored from customers.  (He was also a welcome relief after seeing your purchase total and handing over your credit card.)  His presence helped the sting, as you signed your life away. 

Sam is, however, a different story.  While he is just as fat, laid back, and lovable, he is a bit of a roamer and once loose, he is one bad hombre'.  In other words, he is a c-a-t.  They both have the run of the store after hours but because of the busy alley out back, cars, and delivery trucks, they go on lock down in the store office around noon.  If Sam is not in the office by noon, the cat wrangling begins and can be ugly.  He will not come when called, can't be tempted by food, takes off for parts known only to him, and arrives back whenever he damn well pleases and that can be anywhere from 10 pm to midnight, depending on his mood.  Apparently the staff has learned this the hard way and if you let him out, you are that night's Cat Wrangler.  If customers ask, they are welcome to go visit him or Frank in the office--just don't let them out--especially Sam.  You will not be popular if you do.

Even with Sam's penchant for roaming, and Frank's narcoleptic napping, these two are a definite improvement over the previous pair.  They don't fight, tear up, or even chew all that much except maybe the fresh catnip  You gotta love any store that has resident animals.  Meow.

Happy Birthday, Andrea!!

Today is the thirtieth birthday of Andrea Gonzalez Harris.  As my D-I-L, she is one of the greatest gifts I have EVER received.  She is fun, funny, loving, kind, smart as a whip, uber talented, creative, a killer cook, stunningly BEAUTIFUL, and loves my youngest son to pieces (and he, her).  I am so grateful to her for all the gifts she brings to our family by just being who she is.

I know...I know...I brag on her a lot but I just can't help myself.  I feel like she is my friend, my peer, and I would lie down in heavy traffic for her.  (To say that when I love, I love HARD, is an understatement.)  Andrea is just the best of the best.

Happy Birthday, Andrea aka Princess Jasmine!!!
                                                                 

***This is one of my most favorite pic's of her.


 

Today

Here's what I know today :
1.  Some years the pecan crop is great and other years it totally sucks.
2.  I don't have acrylic nails right now so I can't pick pecans anyway.
3.  Old dogs get really needy and so do old people.
4.  Mom's laughter is still contagious to me.
5.  Sometimes things have to get worse before they get better.
6.   If it's not the end, it's not over and if it's not over, it's not the end.
7.  Sometimes you just have to do what you have to do. 
8.  No means no.
9.  No is a complete sentence.
10. Friends are God's gift to me.

Someone I adore turns 30 tomorrow.  Find out who, then. 

Happy Birthday Brian !!

Thirty two years ago today, I was down at Baylor Hospital being induced with Brian Felix Harris.  I was pre-eclamptic, my blood pressure was too high, and Brian needed to come on down and join the world.  He was giving it his best shot--my body was just not quite ready.  As a result of a cervix that simply wasn't ready to do it's job and before all the new drugs that can help one get ready, Brian arrived via c-section at 6:59 pm and boy, was I glad to see him!

As I held him on my chest, I tried to shield the overhead OR lights out of his eyes, so he could see us.  I remember saying to him "Heddooo" and thinking he was the coolest thing I'd ever seen.  Such began the love affair that continues to this day.

He was over here yesterday to pick up a birthday gift that was delivered here.  He's been under the weather a bit with a stomach bug so he didn't hang around super long.  It seems this "bug" started this past weekend, improved such that he decided to dump a little Chipotle down the shoot, and was in shock and awe that it roared right back.  Guys.  Gotta love 'um.

Happy Birthday to the neatest 32 year old man I know. 

Boundaries

Bang.  First thing this morning I set two important boundaries that I had known were coming and both were done by 8:15AM.  Now that's what I call efficiency.  Especially on a Monday.  Nothing feels better to me than setting a limit with someone (no it was not Bruce) on what's acceptable to me and what's not, when I have reached that point.  There is such personal freedom and relief in setting limits for people who simply do not get it or don't want to get it. 

 I was nice-- just firm and direct-- and what others choose to do with my boundary is their choice.  They don't have to like it and they probably won't.  That's OK.  I still have the right to take care of myself and not be railroaded by someone elses agenda.  Everybody violates a boundary once in awhile, unintentionally, and then has to clean up their mess.  That's called personal accountability.  That does not mean it's OK to keep mowing over someone else and then just say " oh, sorry".   People that do that are sending you a very clear message.

Today I know if I want to know what's really going on with someone, I watch their actions.  All the words in the world are just that.  Words.  Words are cheap.  Easy.  Flow right off the tongue.  Watch and see if their words and actions match.  If they don't, pay attention to the actions--not the words.  Their actions will tell you everything you need to know. If their actions have a repeating pattern, well....now you know.
                                                                        

On another note, I went by to check on mom the other day and showed her Halloween pic's of the Smalls and told her what's been happening.  When I got ready to leave, I told her I had to go home and figure out dinner.  I had no clue what I was cooking.  That's when she told me she "was going out to dinner".  I liketa d-i-e-d.  I said "You sure are" and thought to myself..."all the way down the hall to the dining room."  I chuckled the whole way home. 

Mopping

I swear I'm not making this up.  I got home a little bit ago to find Maria holding half a mop.  It seems she mopped so hard today, the mop's body snapped in half.  Remember now...she's the same gal that mopped so hard in the boys bathroom, she fell down.  Damn.  I don't even know what to think about this.  Armed with a mop, she is a menace.  A danger to herself and others.  Mopping with a deadly weapon.  Orange cones: Caution/ Cuidado:  Senora mopping.

If you could see her, you'd swear I was lying.  She is skinny and medium height but give her a mop, and she becomes a deadly weapon, a cleaning hazard waiting to happen.  She can tear up brooms, too, but then today's brooms are worthless anyway, but a mop?  That's a skill set I'm not sure what to do with exactly.

Sidebar.  Back to brooms for a second....Where are the blind guys that used to come door to door selling light bulbs and brooms....and the Fuller Brush man?  Remember him?  I loved those guys and they always had great cleaning utensils.  I guess Walmart put those guys out of bidness' and not for the better I might add. 

On my run to Tom Thumb to get a replacement mop, I ran into a old friend from my Belclaire days.  He lived in the block before ours and is still a good friend of my brothers to this day.  When he rounded the check out line, I stuck my mop between my legs (a la broom) and started riding, pretending like the wind was blowing. 

When you've known someone since childhood, I figure you can get away with anything. After I paid, I did the majorette deal with it, as I marched out of the store and I still had a "jumpin' the mop", a " mop dance partner", and a limbo left in my arsenal.

                                                                    

No wonder no one will go to the store with me anymore.  They are just no fun.