(aka Why Cousins Shouldnt Marry)
This morning, though starting a bit more slowly than most mornings (sometimes that pillow is just too persuasive!)- was a fairly ordinary morning. Nothing earth shattering to note. I got up, got dressed, did the "I have to pee dance" in the doorway of the bathroom while CJ finished up his morning get-ready-rituals... made coffee, got lunches together and walked out the door.
We climbed into the car, I drove around through the small apartment complex parking lot to the exit gate which borders a gas station. On the far end of the gas station (closest to me, furthest from the little convenience store), there is a big boxy metal air compressor thing for those pesky air-leaking tires... (or inflatable mattresses, pools and the like, I'd assume, if one were prepared enough to drag one to the gas station.)....At what I call "The Air Machine", there is a car parked.
Anyone who has ever had to use those noise boxes knows that its to your best advantage to position the car in such a way as to allow the tire that needs air to be in a somewhat close proximity to the Air Machine. This, however, works only in situations where only one tire, or one side of tires is needing air. Were you to need air in the right front tire and left rear tire, you are at a slight disadvantage, but its doable, nonetheless.
...unless you are Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum- of which, both were standing at the Air Machine this morning.
Now, despite my desire to refer to the female at the Machine as Tweedle Dee (as it has a bit more of a feminine sound to it and is less degrading), I find that I would be lying to you (and subsequently to myself) if I did not acknowledge her far inferior brain capacity by calling her Tweedle Dum.
A young female and young male stood beside the car. Tweedle Dee (the male), was crouched beside Tire Number One- passenger side, front tire. I assume he was unscrewing the stupid, oddly placed, inexplicably difficult to maneauver little cap on the "Air Insert Place" on said tire.
Tweedle Dum (or, in this case, Tweedle Stupid), was pulling on the Air Machine Hose, slowly unraveling it in order to reach tire number One.
With feet firmly placed on the ground, as if she were stuck in dried cement- roughly 2 feet away from the Air machine box- Dum bent at the waist, reached as high and far as her tiny arms could and yanked. A few feet of hose stretched. Perhaps envisioning that the tire was much further away than it was, she again bent at the waist, reeeached out, grabbed the hose and yanked. To watch her, you'd think she was trying to pull a man on a slippery rope up over the side of a ship he'd just abandoned. There was far too much effort in those pulls than should have been necessary.
But that still wasnt enough.
Tweedle Dee, is working on airing up the tire.
Tweedle Dum is still yanking on the hose.
I pull out of the complex into traffic on the street that runs alongside the gas station, meaning I can still watch the show in progress.
Suddenly, its time to air up Tire Number Two: driver's side rear tire.
You cant get any further away on a car from Tire Number One- passenger front tire, to Tire Number Two- driver's rear tire. They are placed that way for a reason.
But its okay. Tweedle Dum has it under control.
Now, the Air Machine is really quite unhappy at this point. Dum is trying to rip its arm outta the socket and Dee isnt paying any attention. He just wants air in his tires.
Dum has it under control.
Left rear tire? I'm on it!
She marches, with a purpose, AROUND the front of the car, with her sights set on that rear tire. Nevermind the fact that the back end of the car is nearly completely lined up with the Air Machine and would have cut a 3 day, 2 night stay off her trip around the front...
Dum is walking at an angle as if fighting a strong wind, with the hose wrapped over her shoulder. Determination is set on her face. She is frustrated and cold and just wants to get in the dang car and go.
...that is when Air Machine says no.
Had that hose been made of a bungy cord, I am certain Dum would have ended up somewhere near the Texas/Oklahoma border... instead it merely stopped in its trek around the car, and paying in kind by giving a nice solid yank on Dum.
I mentioned the tug o' war game going on to CJ who replied with a hearty laugh and a "You saw that too?"
"Of course I did," I say. "I think it deserves a blog."
Last glance I shot their way as I turned the corner, Dee had taken the hose from Dum, walked back around the other side, and was busy filling up the driver side rear tire... with the hose comfortable resting on the ground, just beneath the rear bumper.
Friday
What I learned today:
1. The stupid person who decided to make tall corporate buildings out of shiny, light-reflective materials clearly designed them at night when the sun wasnt out. (number one cause of corneal flash burns in the U.S... for those of us that dont live near oceans or large quantities of snow... Look it up. Its a real thing!)
2. You can tell what the weather is like in Texas merely by counting the window-down-arm-hanging-out-floating-on-the-wind gestures going on. If there is more than one- the weather is nicer than it has been. If there are 12 in the immediate vicinity, the weather is phenomenal and you should join in on the fun.
(If in the event that while your window is down, a truck full of tattooed guys pulls up next to you in traffic and yells "hey!", the following steps should be taken: a.) Do not respond to the first "hey" as you wont realize they are talking to you. b.) Once you do notice that you are the one being "hey"ed at, then turn with a confused look on your face and say "...What?" back- or for the really daring, try barking. This generally stops all unnecessary conversation.)
3. If you nearly get run over by a man on foot who is racing out of a convenience store with his arms full of beer, not only a.) is he most likely stealing, but b.) saying "heeyyy..." out loud and pointing upon realization that he's stealing isnt a good idea, and c.) it takes longer than you'd think for your brain to finally understand whats going on- so anyone who says they know exactly what they'd do in a given situation is most likely lying.
(an additional note to women... How to Tell if the Guy Behind You In Line is Young and Stupid:He will, to his buddy, start remarking loudly about his friday night plans and attempt to sound responsible by saying "Yeah, but I cant get TOO trashed...I gotta get up in the morning." Do not justify his attempt to sound cool by even turning around. Pay for your whatevers, thank the cashier then wrinkle your nose at the boy as you say "Uh, excuse me." and squeeze past. You will nearly be able to hear his hopes and dreams crumble.)
1. The stupid person who decided to make tall corporate buildings out of shiny, light-reflective materials clearly designed them at night when the sun wasnt out. (number one cause of corneal flash burns in the U.S... for those of us that dont live near oceans or large quantities of snow... Look it up. Its a real thing!)
2. You can tell what the weather is like in Texas merely by counting the window-down-arm-hanging-out-floating-on-the-wind gestures going on. If there is more than one- the weather is nicer than it has been. If there are 12 in the immediate vicinity, the weather is phenomenal and you should join in on the fun.
(If in the event that while your window is down, a truck full of tattooed guys pulls up next to you in traffic and yells "hey!", the following steps should be taken: a.) Do not respond to the first "hey" as you wont realize they are talking to you. b.) Once you do notice that you are the one being "hey"ed at, then turn with a confused look on your face and say "...What?" back- or for the really daring, try barking. This generally stops all unnecessary conversation.)
3. If you nearly get run over by a man on foot who is racing out of a convenience store with his arms full of beer, not only a.) is he most likely stealing, but b.) saying "heeyyy..." out loud and pointing upon realization that he's stealing isnt a good idea, and c.) it takes longer than you'd think for your brain to finally understand whats going on- so anyone who says they know exactly what they'd do in a given situation is most likely lying.
(an additional note to women... How to Tell if the Guy Behind You In Line is Young and Stupid:He will, to his buddy, start remarking loudly about his friday night plans and attempt to sound responsible by saying "Yeah, but I cant get TOO trashed...I gotta get up in the morning." Do not justify his attempt to sound cool by even turning around. Pay for your whatevers, thank the cashier then wrinkle your nose at the boy as you say "Uh, excuse me." and squeeze past. You will nearly be able to hear his hopes and dreams crumble.)
Saturday
A Typical Morning...
Ipod alarm goes off, playing a random song from my list.
One morning, I hit the snooze and mumbled "Thanks ladies." to a SheDaisy song that started playing. I dont know why. It was a one time thing. I woke up in a good mood. Most mornings I cant wait to shut up whoever is playing...
Today went like this:
Alarm goes off.
"Thanks Fiona!" CJ says. I hit the snooze. "Its not Fiona." "Oh."
Alarm goes off.
"Thanks Katy!" CJ says. I hit the snooze and laugh. "Its not Katy." "Oh." "Its Missy." "Oh."
The kitten is purring and meowing and laying on my face.The coffee has started on its automatic timer. I can smell it. I try to move. Too sleepy.
Alarm goes off.
"Thanks Melissa!" CJ says. I cant reach the snooze. Too sleepy. "No. Its not Melissa." "Oh." "Its Missy."
"Thanks Missy!" CJ starts dancing.I try to dance, but the groggy is just not letting go. I end up doing some sort of seizure lookin' butt wiggle.
"Are you dancing?"
"I think so."
Hit the snooze. Its quiet. Its dark.
"Thanks ladies!" CJ says.
...dang it.
One morning, I hit the snooze and mumbled "Thanks ladies." to a SheDaisy song that started playing. I dont know why. It was a one time thing. I woke up in a good mood. Most mornings I cant wait to shut up whoever is playing...
Today went like this:
Alarm goes off.
"Thanks Fiona!" CJ says. I hit the snooze. "Its not Fiona." "Oh."
Alarm goes off.
"Thanks Katy!" CJ says. I hit the snooze and laugh. "Its not Katy." "Oh." "Its Missy." "Oh."
The kitten is purring and meowing and laying on my face.The coffee has started on its automatic timer. I can smell it. I try to move. Too sleepy.
Alarm goes off.
"Thanks Melissa!" CJ says. I cant reach the snooze. Too sleepy. "No. Its not Melissa." "Oh." "Its Missy."
"Thanks Missy!" CJ starts dancing.I try to dance, but the groggy is just not letting go. I end up doing some sort of seizure lookin' butt wiggle.
"Are you dancing?"
"I think so."
Hit the snooze. Its quiet. Its dark.
"Thanks ladies!" CJ says.
...dang it.
Friday
Who let Retard drive?
...I was explaining to the fiance last night that this new "schedule" with me getting up at 6 in the morning and working till 5 then spending 2 hours getting him from work and taking him home, then working again till 9:30pm has me living in a perpetual state of crazy. I quite literally feel as though I have lost my mind every second of the day.
Its kind of exciting!
So, this morning... I'm hitting the snooze and groaning... knowing I have to get up, get dressed and leave the house quickly since we have to stop and get gas on the way. We manage to get out the door a few minutes after 7:00 and get to the gas station right away.
I pull up to a pump. It has a plastic bag over it- which generally indicates "dont use this"... its not like gas pumps wear rain gear, so, I say a bad word and stick the car in reverse- pulling back to another pump. I backed ridiculously close to it.
Its raining. Still.
I park next to the pump. Now, mind you- I pulled into one of the outside pumps because clearly I dont like pumping gas under the conveniently placed roof on the other side. I open the door and watch a mini-waterfall pour into my car.
Oh, good.
So what do I do? Look at it in confusion for a minute, jump out, STAND in it for a minute- perplexed- then slam the door and run to the pump. Gas gets pumped without any excitement to note, until I realize I have to get back in the car. I walk around to my door and watch the water cascading down the driver's side window. I have to get in the car. I know this much. CJ is in the passenger seat and I cant very well climb over him. I know that much as well.
So I look at the waterfall.
Somewhere in the asylum that I call a brain, something is telling me that if I stand there looking at it long enough it'll stop, or atleast move to a different window.
It doesnt.
I sigh.
Then I open the door to get in.
Have you ever noticed that the harder you try to move quickly- the more retarded you get?
I get my butt-end into the seat, pull my head in, and cant get the door closed.
Why?
Because my leg is refusing to join the rest of us and wants to splash in the puddle instead. It's having a jolly ol' time playing in the rain while I'm silently cursing my limbs for disobeying the direct order of "GET IN THE CAR QUICKLY! I DONT WANT TO GET WET!"
Finally, the stupid left leg has had enough fun and hops in. The right leg kicks it.
I shut the door.
On my hip.
Apparently the left side of my body is controlled by stupid.
I'm in the car. My coat is bunched up underneath me and behind me and I cant lean back in the seat thanks to the mass of fabric which is clearly in on the game and wants to be as difficult as possible. My head is nearly through the steering wheel as I try to maneuver the coat around me. Elbows are flailing, the left leg wants to control the gas pedal as well... *sigh*
CJ made it to work on time, miraculously.
And I made it to work all in one piece.
Buckets of fun.
Its kind of exciting!
So, this morning... I'm hitting the snooze and groaning... knowing I have to get up, get dressed and leave the house quickly since we have to stop and get gas on the way. We manage to get out the door a few minutes after 7:00 and get to the gas station right away.
I pull up to a pump. It has a plastic bag over it- which generally indicates "dont use this"... its not like gas pumps wear rain gear, so, I say a bad word and stick the car in reverse- pulling back to another pump. I backed ridiculously close to it.
Its raining. Still.
I park next to the pump. Now, mind you- I pulled into one of the outside pumps because clearly I dont like pumping gas under the conveniently placed roof on the other side. I open the door and watch a mini-waterfall pour into my car.
Oh, good.
So what do I do? Look at it in confusion for a minute, jump out, STAND in it for a minute- perplexed- then slam the door and run to the pump. Gas gets pumped without any excitement to note, until I realize I have to get back in the car. I walk around to my door and watch the water cascading down the driver's side window. I have to get in the car. I know this much. CJ is in the passenger seat and I cant very well climb over him. I know that much as well.
So I look at the waterfall.
Somewhere in the asylum that I call a brain, something is telling me that if I stand there looking at it long enough it'll stop, or atleast move to a different window.
It doesnt.
I sigh.
Then I open the door to get in.
Have you ever noticed that the harder you try to move quickly- the more retarded you get?
I get my butt-end into the seat, pull my head in, and cant get the door closed.
Why?
Because my leg is refusing to join the rest of us and wants to splash in the puddle instead. It's having a jolly ol' time playing in the rain while I'm silently cursing my limbs for disobeying the direct order of "GET IN THE CAR QUICKLY! I DONT WANT TO GET WET!"
Finally, the stupid left leg has had enough fun and hops in. The right leg kicks it.
I shut the door.
On my hip.
Apparently the left side of my body is controlled by stupid.
I'm in the car. My coat is bunched up underneath me and behind me and I cant lean back in the seat thanks to the mass of fabric which is clearly in on the game and wants to be as difficult as possible. My head is nearly through the steering wheel as I try to maneuver the coat around me. Elbows are flailing, the left leg wants to control the gas pedal as well... *sigh*
CJ made it to work on time, miraculously.
And I made it to work all in one piece.
Buckets of fun.
Tips for Applying for a Loan:
1. Know your social security number.
2. Know your address.
3. Know how to input your address into the proper fields. (for example:)
address: 123 MAIN ST
address 2: APT 23B
city, state, zip: BLAH, TX, 12345
If you dont live in an apt, then DONT USE the ADDRESS 2 line. Please.
Your credit will not pull properly if you put 123 in the first line, and MAIN ST in the 2nd line.
4. If you’re applying for an unsecured loan (personal loan, signature loan, etc)- and you’re applying for $25000- the interest rate IS going to kill you.
5. Do not... and I repeat... DO NOT... waste my time by applying for a $100 loan.
6. If you hand write your application... please write legibly. A social that looks like, 552-49-Banana is not appreciated. Nor can I properly input the application.
7... have I mentioned how much I HATE the $100 applications? It takes more time for me to process the damn thing than it would for me to just hand you $100. So... stop it. Just learn how to budget and you wont have that problem. (Not to mention, with the interest, you’re gonna end up paying MUCH more than $100... and thats just retarded)
8. Credit bureaus use fraud alert systems. If the social you’re using belongs to a DEAD PERSON- I’m gonna know. And its not gonna get approved... cause I’m not retarded.
9. If the application asks for your monthly income, please dont tell me you make $45000. Because I KNOW thats not how much you make monthly working as a cashier at Walmart.
10. Dont be stupid. Thats all I ask. Is that too much?
2. Know your address.
3. Know how to input your address into the proper fields. (for example:)
address: 123 MAIN ST
address 2: APT 23B
city, state, zip: BLAH, TX, 12345
If you dont live in an apt, then DONT USE the ADDRESS 2 line. Please.
Your credit will not pull properly if you put 123 in the first line, and MAIN ST in the 2nd line.
4. If you’re applying for an unsecured loan (personal loan, signature loan, etc)- and you’re applying for $25000- the interest rate IS going to kill you.
5. Do not... and I repeat... DO NOT... waste my time by applying for a $100 loan.
6. If you hand write your application... please write legibly. A social that looks like, 552-49-Banana is not appreciated. Nor can I properly input the application.
7... have I mentioned how much I HATE the $100 applications? It takes more time for me to process the damn thing than it would for me to just hand you $100. So... stop it. Just learn how to budget and you wont have that problem. (Not to mention, with the interest, you’re gonna end up paying MUCH more than $100... and thats just retarded)
8. Credit bureaus use fraud alert systems. If the social you’re using belongs to a DEAD PERSON- I’m gonna know. And its not gonna get approved... cause I’m not retarded.
9. If the application asks for your monthly income, please dont tell me you make $45000. Because I KNOW thats not how much you make monthly working as a cashier at Walmart.
10. Dont be stupid. Thats all I ask. Is that too much?
Saturday
Marijuana Cafe?
A "cafe" in Oregon, specifically designed for prescription marijuana users has opened...
Included in diseases for which mj is prescribed are alzheimers, tourettes, multiple sclerosis and diabetes.
Forget the normal stuff- I wanna see a party full of high old people forgetting where they are, and people full of twitches and obscenities!
I mean, I've known people with these afflictions, and they are sad and sometimes absolutely debilitating, so I am in no way making fun of them. BUT...
Can you think of a stranger or more amusing scenario than sticking them all in a room together and loading them up with free weed??
Included in diseases for which mj is prescribed are alzheimers, tourettes, multiple sclerosis and diabetes.
Forget the normal stuff- I wanna see a party full of high old people forgetting where they are, and people full of twitches and obscenities!
I mean, I've known people with these afflictions, and they are sad and sometimes absolutely debilitating, so I am in no way making fun of them. BUT...
Can you think of a stranger or more amusing scenario than sticking them all in a room together and loading them up with free weed??
Friday
So as I wrote the last blog, I was thinking about other examples of when my brain let me down.... smaller things that I couldnt devote a single story to, so I figured I'd do a compilation...
The first time I became fully aware of my brain playing tricks on me was on my way home one night. I'm not entirely sure where I was driving home from, but thats unimportant. I was stopped at a red light- multiple cars stopped beside me. Just sitting...tapping on the steering wheel, not thinking about anything inparticular... just sitting.
Then, out of nowhere, my brain ganged up on me. They plotted and decided before saying "Pssst. Just go. Go now."
So, in obedience to the brain stem, my foot stepped on the gas and I went. The light was still red, and I'm fairly certain I was looking around at the other drivers in complete bewilderment...could my hands have obeyed the other part of my brain, I'd have scribbled a "Please help! I'm being held hostage!" note on a piece of paper and plastered it to the window.
I STILL dont know what posessed me to do that...
************
3 years ago, around this time, I was christmas shopping at JC Penny with my mom and dad. Its always fun hanging out with them so I was in a good mood- looking around at the christmas decor, being completely overwhelmed with the happy, warm fuzzies that come that time of year. I've learned now that my brain is at its worst when I'm overwhelmed with stimulation of the visual sort.
I remember looking at a glass case of rings. Lots of rings... and with a case big enough to where merely pointing at one does no good. Your finger is still nearly a foot away from the dang thing and depending on the angle of the person you are telling about the ring, they could think you're pointing at a million different ones.
"I like that one." I said to my mother.
"Which one?" she replied, as I had known she would.
So i dug into my vocabulary and said "the one with the swirls on it." - carefully describing half the rings beneath my finger.
"Which one?" she asked again.
"The one with the swirls on it." I repeated. Perhaps I thought she hadnt heard me.
"Which one with the swirls on it?" she asked, acknowledging she had infact heard it.
"The ONE with the swirls on it." I said... she just sighed at me.
"The one with the SWIRLS on it." again... I wasnt making any sense. My brain continued to reiterate that if I just emphasized a different word in the sentence, eventually she'd understand. "The one WITH the swirls on it." At this point, my dad is wheezing, which is making me laugh, but increasing my frustration. I'm sure I continued until I had adequately covered each word in that sentence.
I dont remember if she ever figured out what ring I meant...
********************
A few moments later, perusing a nicely stacked pyramid of watches, oohing and aahing over the cute charms attached to some, and discussing my ability to describe swirls (to which my dad was STILL laughing)... I found a watch.
It was the coolest looking thing ever and had skulls and crossbones on it. My excitement grew and the necessity to show it to my parents became unbearable.
"Look at this one!" I said to my dad. "Its so cute! It has charms you can change on it." (so far so good.) Dad turned to look. I specifically wanted to point out the skulls. But again, in my excitement, my ability to speak proper english began to fail.
"It has..." (pause) ...I began waiting for the right word to come. If dad saw me struggling, he didnt betray his knowledge, probably hoping for another Sari Special Word Vomit moment... my brain began to feed me words. Most of which were completely wrong... I tried to make associations... where does one see skull and crossbones? Pirate ships!
"It has... pirate..." (pause) ... why the word "skull" hadnt come to me, I dont know... but I was still on the right track with pirates... I just had to describe the part I needed! "pirate stuff" would have worked at that point. Dad would have nodded in agreement. But no. My brain was being far too helpful. Skull... skull... whats the word? I know its part of the general make up of a human. Its like a head without skin. Ah ha!
"It has... pirate heads on it!" I finally announced. Dad lost it.
I'm sure part of that was due to the immediate 'wait-thats-not-the-right-word' face I made, and most likely an immediate narration of my inner thoughts that followed similiar to "thats not what I meant to say..."
I think dad was crying before we left the store.
I'd probably cry too... if I hadnt felt so proud of myself in that fleeting moment of arriving at what I thought was an accurate description.
The first time I became fully aware of my brain playing tricks on me was on my way home one night. I'm not entirely sure where I was driving home from, but thats unimportant. I was stopped at a red light- multiple cars stopped beside me. Just sitting...tapping on the steering wheel, not thinking about anything inparticular... just sitting.
Then, out of nowhere, my brain ganged up on me. They plotted and decided before saying "Pssst. Just go. Go now."
So, in obedience to the brain stem, my foot stepped on the gas and I went. The light was still red, and I'm fairly certain I was looking around at the other drivers in complete bewilderment...could my hands have obeyed the other part of my brain, I'd have scribbled a "Please help! I'm being held hostage!" note on a piece of paper and plastered it to the window.
I STILL dont know what posessed me to do that...
************
3 years ago, around this time, I was christmas shopping at JC Penny with my mom and dad. Its always fun hanging out with them so I was in a good mood- looking around at the christmas decor, being completely overwhelmed with the happy, warm fuzzies that come that time of year. I've learned now that my brain is at its worst when I'm overwhelmed with stimulation of the visual sort.
I remember looking at a glass case of rings. Lots of rings... and with a case big enough to where merely pointing at one does no good. Your finger is still nearly a foot away from the dang thing and depending on the angle of the person you are telling about the ring, they could think you're pointing at a million different ones.
"I like that one." I said to my mother.
"Which one?" she replied, as I had known she would.
So i dug into my vocabulary and said "the one with the swirls on it." - carefully describing half the rings beneath my finger.
"Which one?" she asked again.
"The one with the swirls on it." I repeated. Perhaps I thought she hadnt heard me.
"Which one with the swirls on it?" she asked, acknowledging she had infact heard it.
"The ONE with the swirls on it." I said... she just sighed at me.
"The one with the SWIRLS on it." again... I wasnt making any sense. My brain continued to reiterate that if I just emphasized a different word in the sentence, eventually she'd understand. "The one WITH the swirls on it." At this point, my dad is wheezing, which is making me laugh, but increasing my frustration. I'm sure I continued until I had adequately covered each word in that sentence.
I dont remember if she ever figured out what ring I meant...
********************
A few moments later, perusing a nicely stacked pyramid of watches, oohing and aahing over the cute charms attached to some, and discussing my ability to describe swirls (to which my dad was STILL laughing)... I found a watch.
It was the coolest looking thing ever and had skulls and crossbones on it. My excitement grew and the necessity to show it to my parents became unbearable.
"Look at this one!" I said to my dad. "Its so cute! It has charms you can change on it." (so far so good.) Dad turned to look. I specifically wanted to point out the skulls. But again, in my excitement, my ability to speak proper english began to fail.
"It has..." (pause) ...I began waiting for the right word to come. If dad saw me struggling, he didnt betray his knowledge, probably hoping for another Sari Special Word Vomit moment... my brain began to feed me words. Most of which were completely wrong... I tried to make associations... where does one see skull and crossbones? Pirate ships!
"It has... pirate..." (pause) ... why the word "skull" hadnt come to me, I dont know... but I was still on the right track with pirates... I just had to describe the part I needed! "pirate stuff" would have worked at that point. Dad would have nodded in agreement. But no. My brain was being far too helpful. Skull... skull... whats the word? I know its part of the general make up of a human. Its like a head without skin. Ah ha!
"It has... pirate heads on it!" I finally announced. Dad lost it.
I'm sure part of that was due to the immediate 'wait-thats-not-the-right-word' face I made, and most likely an immediate narration of my inner thoughts that followed similiar to "thats not what I meant to say..."
I think dad was crying before we left the store.
I'd probably cry too... if I hadnt felt so proud of myself in that fleeting moment of arriving at what I thought was an accurate description.
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