Do you know what I did all day yesterday?
The answer would be LAUNDRY. As in, loads and loads of laundry, until I pretty much just decided that I was going to weed through our closets like a feller buncher on speed pills and pare us all down to four different outfits, and no more. The end.
Of course, that was right before I remembered that my friends, Deb and Jackie, had just gotten back from a major, thriving metropolis with an entire classy-style, paper shopping bag from a Ralph Lauren outlet store, which they had handed over to me at church on Sunday morning. It’s because they were shopping in the big city on Friday, and they kept texting me photos of LOOK WHERE WE ARE NOW! And WHERE WE ARE NOW turned out to be RIGHT IN FRONT OF THIS MAJOR PRICE REDUCTION IN ALL THINGS RALPH LAUREN FOR TODDLER BOYS, and that is how we came to spend the next thirty minutes swapping photos of DO YOU LIKE THIS SHIRT? IT’S JUST $14, MARKED DOWN FROM $49, which I followed with LOVE, LOVE, LOVE, FAINT!
So now both of my boys have new shirts, which were secured for cheap American dollars, hanging in their closets, so I might have to loosen the laundry reigns a bit and give each of us eight different outfits.
I’m telling you… virtual shopping with the use of smart phones and friends in outlet malls is going to be an idea that catches on like fire in a haystack. My only regrets are that Jackie and Deb haven’t tried to do my grocery shopping that way yet, where I sit at home and read a book, and they text me snapshots of canned refried beans and ask, OLD EL PASO BRAND, BUSH’S OR ROSARITAS? And then I would text back, STOP BOTHERING ME WITH ALL THIS NONSENSE! JUST BUY SOME BEANS AND FINISH UP MY GROCERY SHOPPING, WHILE I SIT HERE AND DO NOTHING AT HOME.
In other news, the boy has been working feverishly with two of his buddies on this video presentation project for their advanced history class which involves them tethering every electronic device that we apparently own to the big screen TV, where images from a video game are being captured and recreated to tell the story of a gory battle.
This is a lot different than history class in 1983, when we used a shoebox and some clay to make a crude diorama depicting the Persian Wars.
I have continued to do my job of supplying them with every manner of non-nutritious, after school snacks, as I keep Thing 2 from venturing down the stairs and hollering out, “Hey, Bubbie? I need some popcorn!” right as the big boys start recording their voices in the video to explain why this well-decorated knight is hiding in a bush outside a drawbridge. Apparently, none of these 8th graders think that a toddler’s voice demanding his fair share of the snack bowls is a good thing to have recorded in the middle of their narrative. So, in my efforts to keep the little man very quiet, we have spent umpteen hours in the past two afternoons upstairs, watching You Tube videos together on the iPad. Of course, the only videos that we get to watch are documentaries on cement mixers, impact hammers, monster truck accidents, and train derailments, as Thing 2 wants NOTHING WHATSOEVER to do with home videos filmed by college girls who know how to do good hair, and who can show me the ins and outs of securing the best messy bun of my entire life.
The only other thing worth reporting tonight is that I got a rock in my sneaker while I was outside, doing my time as the recess lady. (Our little private school is small and poor; we don’t have the luxury of teacher’s aides and paraprofessionals who can cover recesses. All of the teachers get to do that, which is fine when it’s 80 degrees outside, like it was today, but which is an entirely different matter altogether when it’s 12 degrees and snowing sideways out.) Anyway, I didn’t stop on the playground to take the rock out, so I kind of kicked my foot back and forth in a dozen different directions, trying to shift that little pebble somewhere else, so that I wouldn’t feel it like the sting of a thousand needles, which is what it had become. And that’s when I started singing a little song from a hundred or more years ago to myself.
“I’ve got a rock in my shoe, my jeans are cutting me in two. My underwear’s too tight; my clothes don’t ever fit right!”
It’s Buck Naked, by Hank Williams, Jr., and I put all the blame on my lifelong BFF, Theresa, for that song being stuck in my head this afternoon. She introduced me to that song one night during our senior year of high school, when we were very busy driving back and forth, up and down, back and forth, and up and down again on Main Street, waving at every other teenager who was out that night doing the exact same thing. I’d never heard the song before, but BUCK NAKED! It was perfectly scandalous, and Theresa had sucked me into a world of questionable lyrics.
“Buck naked, in my birthday suit. Buck naked, and I don’t give a hoot!”
I’m pretty sure that we completely wore the Born to Boogie cassette tape out in the stereo of my 1982 Honda Accord, while we kept ourselves hydrated with giant sodas from the gas station at the far end of Main Street. I’m also fairly certain that we solved the world’s problems that night, as only best friends can do when they’re together in a car, laughing hysterically at some dumb song and talking nonstop. I’m also pretty sure that we drove by the houses of the guys we had crushes on a dozen times that night and that we also ended up at the OPEN ALL NIGHT LONG restaurant in town, for cheese sticks dipped in marinara sauce, as we joined fourteen other friends at a table.
That was the good old days, before anyone could do any shopping with mere snapshots over a cell phone, and no one had any idea that video games could be captured onto a video camera for a history project. That may be because video cameras were the size of Volkswagen bugs and required a strong shoulder to support them on, and because nobody was interested in footage of Pong or Q-Bert.
Y’all have a merry Tuesday night.