Charles: Mall Stalker

You probably know him.

If you are young, Brown, female,live in the Raleigh area and have been anywhere near a mall within the last year, you know him. Let's call him "Charles", because, well...because that's his name!!!

Soooo...about a year ago, just when Jordann began her "I'm going to introduce myself to everyone in the solar system" phase, we stop at the light at the intersection of Brier Creek Pkwy and Hwy 70. It's a particularly long light. We are the first car in the far left of the two left turn lanes. In the turn lane next to us, to the right, up pulls "Charles"...the most handsome young fellow I had seen in a very long time. I love his white Land Rover with the obviously upgraded wheel package. I am impressed. Although it was frigid outside, I was delighted to roll down my passenger window at his request.

We chat. It IS, after all, the longest light in the western hemisphere. Jordann rolls down her back window, and after introducing herself, asks, "Do you like my Mom?"

Apparently, he did. And just before the light turned green, I shouted my number through the passenger window. He put it in his phone.

About 30 minutes later, he calls me. Jordann and I are, where else?? The mall! Just so happens that "Charles" is in the same mall. (Curious, no? That's what I thought too.) We are eating in California Pizza Kitchen and he asks if he can join us. Well, the world is a free place, I thought...and he is cute...and his Land Rover does have the upgraded wheel package...so sure, why not.

We are about 7 minutes into our go-nowhere conversation when his phone rings. He excuses himself to take the call...and comes back 30 seconds later with this: "I HAVE TO GO, MY WIFE AND SON ARE IN THIS SAME MALL."

YOUR WHAT??? I was so disgusted.

"Look...go take care of your business." Instantly he became less good looking...not because he was married, but because he is an obviously deceitful-lying-jackass of a cheater.

He goes. We eat. We shop. Then...my phone rings.

"Heeeeyyyyy, sorry about that earlier. When can we get back together? You still in the mall?"

I throw up in my throat a little. He can't be serious!

"Uhm, are you kidding me? You have a wife? And a child? And you want to know when we can get 'together'?"

"It's not like that..."

Well, it didn't matter what it was "like", because he is abviously an anus. I am dreadfully opposed to being offensive in any situation, so I said nicely, "Really, you don't need to call me any more. Good luck with your situation."

And the next day he sens me this test message: "I don't know where you get off judging me. You didn't have to be such a bitch. Can I call you?"

Mmmmmm...well, Mr. Charming, as if you didn't have me at 'hello', that text sure makes me wanna commit adultery with you! Nothing like a cheating jackass to put me in a talkin' on the phone kinda mood!

As you would imagine, I didn't respond.

A few months later, I run into him in the mall again. He approaches me as if we were old friends, reunited just outside The Gap. I realize that he recognizes me, but can't remember the interaction. I am in a good mood, I'll play along...

"Remind me where we have met," he says.

"Remember. We were in CPK, when your WIFE called, and you had to run??? Then you sent me a delightful text apology the next day?"

"Oh yeah!! How've you been?"

Again...you are kidding right. You can't be serious. You are not embarrassed? WOW! "I'm good, but I have GOT to run."

"I think I lost your number. Can you give it to me again?"

SERIOUSLY, DUDE??? I start walking. "No. C'mon. You are a jackass. Why would I want you to have my number...again???"

He is talking as I walk away...obviously attempting to convince me that I have misinterpreted the situation. I am in awe of his boldness.

I have seen him several times in the mall since. At all times of day and night. Sometimes he sees me, sometimes he doesn't. He is always trying to pick up some unsuspecting young thang. When he sees me, he smiles like he has run into an old school chum, explaining that he works in the mall and is on his lunch break...or he is with his "cousin". (But it's ALWAYS a different mall, and he is ALWAYS on a lunch break, ALWAYS with a different "cousin".) Despite my otherwise plesant and respectful demeanor, I take pride in being rude to him. And apparently he has some disorder that prevents him from having a conscience.

I wonder how he supports himself. Maybe he works for Candid Camera...or maybe I was just involved in the down South version of 'Punked'. Wonder when my episode airs...

"911...can you hold, please??"

OMG!!

So, Jordann and I are in Wendy's. I'm enjoying a delightful double stack with fries and a frosty. (Counterproductive to the plan, I know...but it was close and I couldn't make it another centimeter without something to eat, so I gave in.)

In rushes this woman. She is young and panicked. She is in tears...so upset that I can't understand a word she is saying. Though she is sobbing uncontrollably, the manager apparently understands her, because he yells "Call 911" and dashes out the door behind her. I look around, and since Jordann and I are the only diners this evening, I assume he is talking to me.

Now, because I am from Brooklyn, I am sensing a scam. She runs in, gets the manager to run out to the right, and in from the left rush armed, masked gunmen poised to rip off the joint. OR...She runs in, the manager runs out, then gets jumped in the parking lot by a group of rival gang members. I am a New Yorker, I know how this works.

"What did she say?", I ask the woman on fries.

"She say her son is having a seizure." I turn around, look out the window, and sure enough, there is a young boy half in/half out of the car. Because I have been scammed before, I am still a little suspicious, but in the event that this is real...or not...I figure a call to 911 is really in order.

I dial.

"911, what is your location?"

"I am at the Wendy's in Brier Creek and someone in the parking lot is having a seizure."

"What is your location?"

"Wendy's in Brier Creek. Someone is having a seizure."

"Do you have the address?"

"Wendy's...in Brier Creek. I am a patron, I don't know the address. A little boy is haaving a seizure."

"Wait a minute. Wait a minute. I have to look up the address." (OK, for those of you who don't live here, there is only 1 Wendy's within a 10 mile radius of Brier Creek, EVERYONE knows where Brier Creek is, and I am fairly certain the paramedics are familiar.)

I can see the boy out the window. This is not a scam and this is not looking good.

"The boy is having a SEIZURE! Brier Creek Wendy's!", I say emphadically as if my tone will substitute for the address.

Jordann hands me the receipt. It has the address on it. She IS a rocket scientist. I feel stupid for not thinking of that myself.

"It's 8000 Pooler Rd."

"OK. Dispatching. Is the boy breathing."

"I don't know. I am inside." I didn't want to take Jordann out there, I thought the hullabaloo may have upset her, but I figured we needed to be helpful. We go out. By this time, there are several Wendy's employees, the manager, a few onlookers and two crazed-crying women...one the mother, and the other, I imagine, a teenaged sister. Chaos! I must give mad props to the Wendy's employees, who jumped in to do what they could. Someone laid the boy on the back seat, one woman was doing chest compressions. Another employee was attempting to calm the mother while someone else diverted the drive-thru traffic. Jordann and I walked quickly to the back seat. Only about 30 seconds had passed, and I could hear the sirens nearing already. "I am here. He is breathing, but not steadily, more like gasps. He's gasping." Then about 10 seconds later, "OK, the paramedics are here."

I ended my call with the dispatcher, left the professionals to do what they do, and headed back inside. Of course, Jordann had about 7,000 questions, all of which I was too flustered to answer. The experience was nerve rattling.

I think I would have experienced this whole thing differently if I weren't a mother. I kept thinking about how helpless that mother must feel, and wondering if something like this could ever happen to my child.

I hugged Jordann extra tight inside that Wendy's...I couldn't even eat. I left my double stack and fries (but not the Frosty, I brought that home with me) and watched tearfully through the window as they loaded the boy into the ambulance, so glad that my own child is safe and healthy.

I wonder...how long would it have taken for the paramedics to arrive if Jordann hadn't handed me the address?? And how many calories would I have consumed if I had eaten that double stack and fries??

Please don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I am angry.

I was hungry.

And that is a terrible time to make me angry.

And you know how sometimes the hungrier you are, the harder it is to decide what to eat??? Yeah! Sooo...after driving circles around Brier Creek, pulling into several parking spots, and having numerous loud and heated debates with myself, I decide on New Asia.

So I speed down Glenwood Avenue with roast pork lo mein on the brain. I am fantasizing about dipping my crispy noodles in the duck sauce, and stirring the green tea in my 2 oz. teacup with the fork handle. Mmmmmm...good times!

I get to New Asia...and the parking lot is packed. This CANNOT be good, but I am here, and I need to live out my crispy noodle fantasy, so I will wait. When I come here, I am usually the ONLY person at New Asia...oh I get it...they added sushi to the menu and are now Chinese/Japanese. OK...whatever...I need a table, STAT! I walk in, and...CRAP...there is a wait. The couple who arrived seconds before me announced that there were two in their party and received a number...4. (More like a coat check than a restaurant wait if you ask me, but perhaps this was designed to avoid the otherwise inevitable name/pronounciation confusion. I'm OK with that. S-M-I-T-H is sometimes tricky.)

"NUMBA FREE!" Why is she yelling?? No worries though, from this I am able to surmise that there is truly only one table ahead of me...all these other people are waiting for takeout...SCORE!!!!!

"MAY I HEP YEW?"

"Uhm, yes, dining in, please."

"HOW MANY IN YOA PAHTY?"

"Just me, thanks." (It's always just me. Sad, I know.)

I get my number 5 and take a seat amongst the take-outers. I wait. And wait. And wait. The couple with number 4 gets a table. SWEET...only one seating away from roast pork bliss! I wait. A group of four comes in, Lei yells at them (with a forced, contorted smile), picks up four menus, and starts walking to the dining room. My lips purse involuntarily and my arms automatically fold themselves across my chest. Am I not sitting here, waiting? OK...maybe they called ahead, maybe they were waiting outside. I really couldn't hear the initial pre-seating conversation with Lei over the rumble of my stomach. I wait! And wait some more.

Another couple comes in, receives the customary "HOW MANY IN YOA PAHTY??" shout from Lei, who proceeds to pick up two menus and lead them to the dining room. I cannot stand the injustice.

"How is THAT possible?", I yell at Lei almost as loudly as she greets the restaurant patrons. Remember, I am hungry, and this is the worst possible time to piss me off!

"AAAHHH, KEW ME?"

"I HAVE BEEN HERE WAITING FOR A TABLE, AND THIS IS THE SECOND SET OF POPELE WHO HAVE WALKED THROUGH THE DOOR AND BEEN SEATED SINCE I HAVE BEEN HERE. I AM HUNGRY, AND IF YOU HAD ANY MEAT AT ALL ON YOUR BONES, I WOULD EAT YOU. SO WHEN DO I GET A TABLE???"

Lei is taken aback. I don't suppose anyone had ever proposed to eat her before. "YOA HO PAHTY HAVE TO BE HEAH BEFOA I SEAT YOU AT TABLE, MA'AM."

"WHAT PARTY?"

"YOU COME IN, YOU SAY PAHTY OF FREE."

"WHAT??!!"

"WHEN YOA PAHTY COME, I SEAT YOU, OK MA'AM?"

"WHAT PARTY OF THREE? I SAID 'JUST ME'!" Poor innocent couple, caught in the middle of all this. But hell, I am about to get their table!

"YOU TELL ME PAHTY OF FREE. YOU WAIT FO DEM."

"NO, YOU KNOW WHAT?? IT'S JUST ME, AND I NEED THAT TABLE." I hop up and gather my coat, scarf, and bag...because if I don't get this table, I'm grabbing a handful of eel from behind the sushi bar, Lei is going to the ER, and I may just have to go to jail...hungry.

All of the remaining take-outers are amused at my expense, and likley deafened by the rumbling of my stomach. I am not backing down. I am getting that table...or... OR ELSE!!!!! The cashier and Lei yell at each other in a language I don't understand, then Lei, obviously exasperated and defeated, puts one menu back in the menu holder and says "FAW-OW ME, MA'AM." I apologize to the couple. Maybe they were hungry, but not as hungry as me, and I am sure they understand.

The lo mein was excellent and the crispy noodles were as delicious as I imagined in my fantasy. I wonder if Lei sneezed on my lo mein....hmmmmm...flavorful!!!

All I really wanted was the socks...

OK…soooooo…here are the facts…

1. I really wanted…no, NEEDED, the shea butter infused socks! (Please refer to New Year’s mini commitment #1.)

2. There are TWO Bath and Body Works in Crabtree Valley Mall.

3. I believe that (in my mind, but probably not in reality) that Brandon misses his little brother.

4. I am completely serious about this getting fit thing. (Please refer to New Year’s mini commitment #3.)

5. It’s not my fault that the Lip-licious lip tints were 75% off. (Please refer to New Year’s mini commitment #2.)

6. Of all days I could pick to wear my white coat…sheesh!!!!

Lemme tie up the laces…

So Brandon and I go to the Bath and Body Works at Brier Creek. (I take Brandon everywhere I can now because I hate to leave him home alone. In my head, he misses Bailey.) I had been contemplating getting the soft, fuzzy shea butter infused socks for some time now, and I am proud of making it this long without spending the unnecessary $7.50. Kudos for me. Anyway, I went to the store with a mission…socks…ONLY socks. Well…they didn’t have any, so the lovely associate was kind enough to call around for me to see which store had them. Crabtree, you say?? Perfect! “Tons” I believe is the word she uses to describe the quantity awaiting me just 15 minutes down the road. I will run over there in a sec. But wait…what is this????? Lip-licious lip tints for 75% off?? And you know “Brown Sugar” is my favorite…

Well, I am no mathematician (just ask Mrs. Turzo, my 12th grade math teacher. She gave me the only “D” I have ever received in my life...I digress), but I know that at 75% off, I can get 4 for the price of one. So, I leave with 4 Brown Sugar lip tints…on my way to Crabtree Valley Mall (yep, a mall) for my creamy-on-the-inside socks!!

I park at the mall entrance closest to Bath and Body for obvious reasons. I am ready to grab the socks (also 75% off, did I mention?) and make a beelline back to the car. BUT…did you know there are TWO Bath and Body Works stores in Crabtree?? What foolishness is this??? And the other one…the one with the socks…is WAAAAYYYYY at the other end of the mall.

Well, I’ve come this far, and I am strong…I can do this. I will walk briskly (in my round bottom shoes) to the Macy’s corridor, secure aforementioned socks, and walk briskly back to the car. Bada bing, bada boom! Right?

I am walking briskly, feeling the burn, thinking of what a wise choice it was to invest in the round bottom shoes. Brookstone’s new display is all about fitness. The jumpy thing. The slidy thing. The stick. The stick??? I am intrigued. The fit people in the looping video seem to be enjoying this…this…‘stick‘… It’s only $15 and the stick figure of a clerk gave a raving testimonial about his arms being more toned since they got this thing in the store. I like the stick. And it IS inkeeping with my fitness goals. New stick for me…YAY!!

Anyway…can you believe that the other Bath and Body didn’t have the socks either?? Well, someone needs a busted jaw because I drove AAAALLLL the way over here for some socks that don’t exist and now I have this damn stick and STILL no fluffy, shea butter infused socks.

So now I am mad! I walk briskly back to the car, not because I am thinking about fitness, or determined to focus on not spending, but because I am HOT about the fluffy socks!!!

I get to the car, toss my stick in the back, and throw myself into the driver’s seat. I look at Brandon. Sweet mother of pearl!! He is bleeding from the mouth!!! Or…wait…for corn sake…no…HE IS WEARING MY BROWN SUGAR LIP TINT!!! And it’s on the console…and the steering wheel, and…uh-oh…is it on the seat?? This seat?? The one I am sitting on in my white coat?? Of course it is. He chewed up all four tubes of Lip-licious Brown Sugar lip tint…(in his defense, it is sugary and delicious, but still)…as if I wasn’t mad enough about the socks….

So now I have a $15 stick, no socks, and no lip tint….a dirty coat, a sticky dog, and a whole lotta upholstery cleaning to do. And on top of it all, I missed American Idol.

Dear God, what did I do to deserve this??? Love, Donna

Uhm...I'll take the combo...with a side of nasty attitude, please...

The plan was to have a healthy meal.

But there is nothing to eat, healthy or otherwise along highway 98 in Durham, and I only had 37 minutes.

OK…KFC…they’re making that grilled chicken now, right (which, incidentally, defeats the whole purpose of the name KFC…wonder what they’re going to do about that now…anyway…not my problem). Yes. That…and a salad and I should be good to go.

No line! JACKPOT!!

I go in and walk up to the counter.

--Blank stare.--

“Hello”, I say.

“Can I take yo orda?” So much for pleasantries. If I wanted to make friends, I would have gone to Panera.

“Uhm, do you have any salads?”

--Blank stare.--

“Uhm, I mean…salad…you know…like, lettuce, tomato…croutons?”

“We have co slaugh.”

“But no salad, huh? OK…I’d like two grilled thighs with cole slaw and a diet Pepsi, please.”

Toya - that’s what her chicken spattered name tag says - does her register magic.

“$7.74”

“Uh…$7.74??? I thought the combo was $5.”

Toya was clearly irritated. “You want a combo?”

“Yes. A combo.” I point to the picture, hoping that the visual will make this less complicated and stressful for Toya. “Two pieces, one side, and a drink.”

Toya looks at the picture. Then the register. Then me. “I need a supavisa.”
It must have been very busy in the back, because it took Shaneeka, Shift Supervisor (according to her name tag), next to forever to arrive to resolve the dilemma.

“She want a combo, but she had ordered this.” She points at the register screen. I am temporarily distracted by the diamond stud in her nose. Clearly, this enormous chicken miscalculation is entirely MY fault.

Shaneeka looks at me with what I sense is disgust, inserts her supervisor key, punches a few buttons, and voila… She walks away with no words.

Toya informs me that my new, correct total is $5.34. She is so pleasant. I understand why she is at the register and not in the kitchen. What a sweetheart! And so bright, too.

I hand her a $20.

Clearly the stress of my chicken ordering faux-pas is taking it’s toll on Toya. I hope it is close to break time for her. She looks like she needs a cigarette. She punches in $10.00 and hands me $4.66.

I stand there with my hand outstretched, hoping that Toya will realize, of her own volition, the error of her ways. She looks at me. I look at her with my classic Kevin Spacey impression--a little ignorance, a little compassion, and a whole lotta “I‘m about to go postal“. I wait. The rocket scientist says nothing. Nilda at the end of the counter is ON IT, because my tray - the combo…not to be confused with two thighs, a side, and a drink…is ready and waiting.

Toya wins, because I speak first. “I gave you a $20 and this is what you gave me back.”

She looks at my still outstretched palm.

“I need a supavisa!”

Shaneeka is even more displeased with me this time than the last. Toya explains MY error, and eventually I get my full $14.66. But what an ordeal.

The damn chicken wasn’t even that good. I thought they said that they “do chicken right“. Good thing the ad doesn’t reference the customer service.

Hello...my name is Donna, and I am a Shoppaholic...

OK…seriously??? I have problems.

Remember my little note about unnecessary spending??? Uh…yeah…

I had the best intentions, really I did!!

It’s cold outside. Freezing! Too cold for a neighborhood walk.

I was hungry. I’m thinking…two birds, one stone…I can go grab a lite bite and mall walk. Yes!!

I have a little cash. It’s in my wallet, carefully sandwiched between my driver’s license and my debit card for safe keeping.

I have no pockets, so clearly it makes sense to bring the whole wallet into the mall.

And that’s when keeping it real went wrong!!!


I ate. Yes, I did. It was lite, yes, it was. I walked, indeed I did…about 200 yards before I came to the Disney store. Jordann is into Princess stuff. As long as I keep my feet moving, I should be OK…right?? I mean, I AM just looking, after all. That’s what mall walking is all about.

Ann Taylor has this HUGE sale sign in the window. And since Ann and I are such close personal friends (no seriously, we go waaaay back) it would be discourteous to ignore her invitation, wouldn’t it? Clearly she took the time to make that sign just for me.

And who put that new kiosk in the middle of the mall with all those cute charms? And I TOTALLY believe the little Romanian sales girl when she says “These sale, today only. No tomorrow. Tomorrow back to regular prize.” She wouldn’t lie to me, would she?

The dainty little guy at the MAC store looked bored (and he admired my new walking sneakers…the ones with the rounded bottom guaranteed to tone my buttocks and reduce the appearance of cellulite, yes, those…), so how could I resist his invitation for a makeover??

I like the beach. The beach requires swimwear. Swim and Sport has a lovely new window display. That one-piece looked really good on the size 2 mannequin. Surely it will look as fabulous on me.

Bath and Body is having their monthly semi-annual clearance sale (of course it’s in January, silly…they are still clearing from last month’s semi-annual clearance sale), and I remember that I need a new Wallflower to fragrance the foyer. You realize, of course, that they are $12.50 for two, but just $20 for four, sooooo…YOU do the math…what a bargain!

So, uhm…I am really gonna enjoy my new gold charm. It will look fab-u with my new Ann Taylor sweater and sparkly new eyeshadow. Jordann is gonna love the limited platinum edition of Sleeping Beauty. Our foyer will be delightfully fragranced with Japanese Cherry Blossoms. And by the time it is warm enough for swimwear, I will fit into that bathing suit.

And in the future, maybe I should just walk in the cold.

Resolutions, schmezolutions...

1-1-10

Happy New Year!!!

For those who are keeping up…Batgirl has still not been able so come up with any clues, and we continue to live in fear. But we did make it through the night, so I guess that’s a start.

Anyway, it’’s almost 3:00 and I haven’t broken any of my resolutions yet. Yay me!!!!

OK…really though…they’re not resolutions, per se (I really hate it when people say that…“per se”…so why did I just do that?? Whatever…) They’re not resolutions…they are mini commitments to attempt to maybe do a little better for a short time…if I can…no pressure…

Sooooo…OK, look…there is SUCH huge potential for TMI here, so if you are faint of heart or weak of stomach, I suggest that you NOT read on!

“Commitment” number one is to be nicer to my skin. It ain’t as purdy as it used to be, and I did go a little nuts at the Bath and Body holiday sale, so……yeah! So, I am applying some shea butter oil to my cuticles (toes, not fingers…see the potential for TMI yet?? I warned you…), and Jordann asks me what I am doing. I say, “I’m putting oil on my toes so my feet can be pretty.”

And she says, “Mommy, your feet are already pretty.” (She is SO great for my ego.) Then after a little pause, she continues, “I really like your black nail polish.”

Uhm…problem is…I am not wearing any nail polish. (In my own defense though, she was referring to my ONE toenail which has a SLIGHT color imperfection, ONLY in a certain light, and ONLY on one side. So “sub-commitment“ 1a is to keep my toenails…all ten of ‘em…polished.)

“Commitment” number two…curb all unnecessary spending…which is why I had to go out yesterday and buy ALL of the unnecessary items I could think of. I like to think of them as post-Christmas/early-birthday presents (because justification of the addictive behavior is evidence of the addiction…that‘s my Carolina graduate education in action, Baby). I was evidently on Santa’s naughty list…and the birthday fairy probably won’t come thru either, so who’s gonna take care of me if I don’t? Huh?? That’s right! Nobody! So, here we are…two rings and a bracelet, a Wii Active, and a nifty new pair of Sketchers later…and I don’t feel guilty at all…cause that was yesterday…and that was still 2009.

“Commitment” number three is to get fit for my April/May trip to Barbados. A few nights ago, I bought a gorgeous turquoise bikini. It was smokin‘, I was HOT! Unfortunately, it was part of my “nocturnal cinema” (my Academy Award quality dream sequences). In reality, I am doing SERIOUS injustice even to the ‘more mature swimwear’ with the built in “shelf” and attached skirt. I used to have a waist….now…nothin’! I will have one, soon…and that which has gone SOUTH SHALL RISE AGAIN! Hold me accountable and I will keep you posted! I have 118 days to get it together (please refer to “commitment” number two under Wii Active…and keep me in your prayers).

Holy Crap, Batman!

12-31-09

OK…seriously??? As if I don’t have enough problems??

Soooo…I paid a dude $750 to replace a water heater that wasn’t broken…then had to pay someone else $680 to uninstall his crappy work and install it correctly…THEN I paid an HVAC person $890 to fix the problem that was actually the problem when the moron replaced the water heater that wasn’t the problem. UGH!!

No worries though…because I immediately left to vacation in one of my favorite places…but unfortunately, that vacation ended in the absolute saddest day of my life. I am still crying bucketfuls. I digress…

Then I flew US Air. Need I say more about that????? US Air SUX!!!

Soooo glad to be home…I put the key in the lock, push open the door…and out from the otherwise lovely holiday wreath on the door fly about 7,000 bats who had decided that said decoration would make a delightful new home. (Well, OK…there probably weren’t’ reeeaaally 7,000 bats...maybe more like two…but a freakish experience nevertheless.) About 6,999 of them fly out into the night…AND ONE FLIES STRAIGHT UP INTO THE HOUSE!!!!!

It’s times like these when a husband would really come in handy, but since I don’t have one, I crossed the grass to summon my flying pest-slash-deadly insect hero…my neighbor Justin! (Did I ever tell you about the sparrow incident of ‘08...or how he rescued Jordann from a giant killer spider?? OK…maybe it wasn‘t giant…or killler…but it was definitely a spider…) Soooo, Justin dons his animal control gear…leather gloves, sweats, skully…and secures his equipment (a towel), and heads next door. I, too, am armed…with a plastic coat hanger. Yes, we are ready for serious bat business.

So we search every square centimeter of the house ( and by “we” I mean Justin, because I pretty much stood behind him and threw flip-flops at the curtains), and we come up empty. After the thorough bat search, I’m pretty sure that we are safe, and sit on the couch to watch the Michael Jackson special with Jordan…when we hear two flaps, a squeal and a thump from the bedroom directly above us!!

OMG!!! It’s alive!!! So we call animal control and sit absolutely motionless and in silence for 47 minutes until Officer Staten arrives. She was perfectly delightful…and as she searched the house with a net and a Tupperware container, Jordann ties a “cape” around her shoulders, gets her own Tupperware container, announces that she is Bat-girl, and goes upstairs to help Officer Staten “look for clues” (yeah…waaaay too much Scooby Doo). The child has no fear, meanwhile, I am plastered to the front door poised for quick flight. Well, jinkies…neither Bat-girl nor Officer Staten found anything….which leads me to believe that either the vision of the vertical flying, grotesque creature was an apparition and I am a candidate for early onset dimentia (hmmm…not completely unlikely)…or as I sit typing this…I am being watched…by a rabid, winged rodent who is snickering to itself and waiting for the lights to go out!

2010 has GOT to be a better year…if we make it thru the night…

My blog...

12-30-09

So…writing is cathartic and enjoyable for me. I planned to start blogging because, one…my life is a series of tragically funny events and who am I to keep them to myself, two…I thought that my friends, some of whom find me to be mildly amusing on occasion, would enjoy laughing at aforementioned tragically funny events, and three…I wanted to see if I could gather a following of readers. The plan was to be witty and entertaining, and perhaps I still can be…eventually. But today, I have discovered that my head can actually hold about 38 gallons of warm salty water...maybe more...I am still leaking a steady stream of tears.

I have never cried more than I have today. I thought deep, gutteral, take-your-breath-away-to-the -point-where -you-can’t-even-form-a-sentence sobs only happened on soap operas right after Priscilla found out that Drew ran off with Carla. I don’t remember being this sad…ever. Today…my lil Bailey died.

I am a trained counselor, you know. I have coached people (begrudgingly) through their own losses. It has been my contention that, OK, people die, plants die, pets die…it’s part of the circle of life…get over it! But I have never experienced a loss this close and this painful. I have felt pain for my friends who have experienced loss…and for now, I am talking about loss of a pet. Katie. Nairobi. Ginger. Banjo. Jackson. I thought I felt the pain their families felt at losing them, but I now know that you can’t truly know until you experience it. I understand that pain in a different way now.

I tried to remember the “standard” steps in the grieving process as presented in that Death and Dying seminar I took at Carolina. (What a stupid name for a seminar, by the way.) Denial? I think I skipped that step. I am pretty clear on the fact that he’s not coming back. Blame? Yes, I should have been there with Bailey. Did I give the babysitter the wrong dosage info for the phenobarb? I shouldn’t have left him to go on vacation while he wasn’t feeling well. Blame? Check….yup…got that one covered. What’s next, anger?? Hell, I can’t remember what I am clinically expected to feel next. I’ll have to refer to my textbook so that I don‘t miss an important emotional step.

It’s only been about 8 hours, and people have already said some tragically stupid things to me.

“Maybe you should go out and get a new puppy.” Yes, as if I just ran out of deodorant and need a new Lady Speed Stick. Let me run out and do that now…NOT!
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“At least it wasn’t your mother or your daughter”. Oh yeah, good point.

“Don’t be sad.” You are so right. Let’s play Twister instead then.

“It was only a dog.” You are SO lucky that I am not holding a sharp object or a firearm right now.


My greatest comfort has been Jordann, who is wiser than her years.

“Mommy, why are you crying?”

“Because Bailey went to puppy heaven and we’re not gonna see him anymore.”

“That’s why you’re sad?”

I could only manage to shake my head…yes.

“Because now he flew up in the sky?”

Another nod.

“Are you gonna be sad forever.”

“No Baby. Just for a little while.”

“Until thirty o’clock?”

I managed to crack a smile.

“Well, what can I do to make you feel better?”

“Is there something you would like to say to Bailey?”

“Bailey, I will miss you. Have fun flying in the sky. Tell Mommy not to be sad any more. And when you’re finished being dead, you can come back. OK. Bye.”

She’s been so sweet today. She understands.

I’m still crying. Typing…and crying. Crying and typing...and flying. The flight attendant has passed by and given me the ‘you are such a freak’ stare about 12 times now. The little girl in 4D keeps looking at me and whispering to her mother. The gigantic Amazon woman (I am not kidding, she has to be about 6’4” 275 and her forearm is about the size of my thigh…and trust me, my thighs are NOT small) in 5F periodically looks over the top of her seat with an empathetic pout in between bouts of sneezing into her airline blanket and talking to herself. And the family in 7 A, B, C, D and E playing horizontal Uno is really starting to piss me off (but that’s beside the point).

Anyway, this…my first official blog ever…is dedicated to my lil Bailey. May he rest in puppy peace, and know that I loved him more than any person is really supposed to love a dog. Nite-nite pup. Mommy loves you still!!