And, now...the much anticipated Weekend Post

First, for the Marc Velazquezes of you out there, the Executive Summary:

Friday: Wal-Mart. Harpy. Angry. Disappointed.

Saturday: Horses. Trotting. Baths. Wal-Mart. Success, finally. Still disappointed. Lawn Mowing. Cool hat. Incredible lightheaded feeling due to living in Hell's own blast furnace. Happy birds.

Sunday: Church. NOT the four-year-olds. I sure sing pretty, except when gagging and coughing. Not Jennifer (#@&* it all.) Aforementioned slobbery horse. Still hot. Typhoon. Church. Eat. Bed.

All in all, just one more in a very similar set of weekends. BUT, with the addition of all sorts of extraneous details and outright lies, I am able to create yet another thrilling and suspenseful journey through suburbia. Hold on tight! Whoa, not like that. That chair is broken and if you keep holding it like that the arm comes off.

Anyway, picked up Oldest from her grandparents Friday and got ourselves back across town with nary a smart comment or sarcastic roll of the eyes. (Gee, I don't know where she gets THAT from. And this could have been because she was asleep by the time we got to the interstate.) 45 minutes later we pulled up at Wal-Mart to get her glasses and walked in.

Fashion Model Girl was there, studiously ignoring us, as was another entire crew of people I had never seen in there before. Including one woman of indeterminate age and the aloof bearing of those who are Wal-Mart department managers. Told her I needed to pick up some glasses--"Do you have the tray number?" Well, gee, NO, I don't but my daughter does happen to have a name. And it's a darned good thing you can't read my mind, ma'am. I promptly and politely gave her name to Ms. Lady, who tapped on a computer and got the tray number then disappeared into the grinding room.

Wait.

Wait.

Wait.

She walked back out. "Sir, it's only been four days since your daughter's exam." Well, yeah. "Yes?" "Well, sir, we usually only are able to do these within 5-7 days. Not including weekends. That's our policy."

I am a patient man. Despite the rambling moronofest that you read here on Possumblog, I really am a nice, polite, quiet, patient man.

"Well, he told my wife they would be ready today." "Who, sir?" HE, you yap! The HE whose name appears on the little receipt in your hand that you are trying so very hard NOT to let me see! "Whoever took her order last Tuesday told her they would be ready to pick up today!' "Hmm. That's odd. We don't usually promise 4 days. Our policy is 5-7 days. Not including weekends. And anyway, it's 6 o'clock, and our technician is getting off now. She works till 6."

I am a patient man. I really am a nice, polite, quiet, patient man. I watch as a nice young girl waves goodbye to her friends in the grinding room as she leaves with her lab coat over her arm.

"But if you want, you can check back first thing in the morning. Let's see, we open at 8, so if you come by at 9, they should be ready."

As you all have no doubt figured out by now, someone screwed up and didn't do what they were supposed to do. And oops, gee, the person who screwed up just left. And wow, we can't get her back, now can we. And golly, the BAZILLION other freeloading dunderheads milling around laughing and talking with each other just don't have the four brain cells required to chuck two pieces of plastic in the dingderned grinding machine, punch in the prescription and sit their butts down in a chair and watch the machine. And we happen to think that just because it only takes about 30 minutes to grind a set of lenses, it's really immaterial, because we decided to tell people that our policy states 5-7 days, and heaven forbid that we should try to maybe deliver a little extra service to our customers and give them their glasses when we said we would.

Fortunately, I am a patient man. I really am a nice, polite, quiet, patient man.

::heavy sigh:: "9, eh?"

Passive Agressive Lady--"Yes. But you might want to call first."

I just looked at her.

"Come on, Ashley."

We got clear of the store and Ashley said "That was disappointing. I thought I was going to be able to get them today. Were you mad at her?"

"Nah, sweetie; just disappointed, too."

Somewhere, I just hope there is a small tally board marked "Points For Not Succumbing to Baser Instincts in Front of Children." If there is, I better have at least one mark.

Saturday was horseytime, so after a bit of cartoon watching I set off with the older two girls. Little Boy had been feeling poorly (and Jackie Chan was on TV) so he stayed home with Mama. I went to sit on the bleachers and the lady from last week who wanted to know my opinion of preteen dating was there with her newspaper. "Would you like the paper?" "No thanks, I've already read it." "Well, looking at that hat of yours, I'm surprised you could read!" "Huh?" "Your cap," pointing to the center of her head. It then occurred to me that she was one of those University of Alabama folks, and I just happened to have on my RealTree cap with the big blue and orange AU on the front. Yes, hah-hah, you're a real funny woman. I am a patient man. Despite my....NO, not again! Lucky for her, I have a great sense of humor about my beloved alma mater, so I reacted as though I was insulted and we both laughed. Next time she won't be so lucky.

The girls did fine once more, and this time they even got to trot. Which scared the bejabbers out of them, but they kind of liked it anyway. And this time, after they dragged all the accouterments off their ponies, they got to give them a bath. (Rebecca likes doing this kind of stuff, but Ashley just hates it.) They got all finished and it was time to head back to...

Wal-Mart.

Walked in--two smelly, dusty, horsey, children and one real big redneck looking dude with dirty jeans, a camo hat, and an attitude. Once again, we were courteously ignored by YET ANOTHER completely different crew of people, until finally I saw Ms. Harpy. "I've come to get her glasses." "Do you have a tray number?" AAAAAAGHHHHHHHHH! I AM NOT PATIENT, I REFUSE! "Why yes, today I do have it, because I brought the receipt with me." She typed, then disappeared.

Wait.

Wait.

Finally, out walks some girl who was not the Fashion Model Girl, and who was not the happy girl who left at 6, but at least she had the glasses and they were ready. She put them on Ashley and sort of halfway adjusted them, and we were set to go. And they do look real cute on her, and she was happy with them, and with the sunglasses that attach with little magnets.

And there was much rejoicing.

Got home and cut grass. By now it was about 12:30, which is when Satan shovels in another load of hard coal into the firebox. No one goes out when it's this hot. Except me, because I got a snappy new straw hat for my birthday so I don't get sunburnt ears and neck parts. Of course, I could wait until the sun goes down some, but then the hat would be sorta extraneous, now wouldn't it.

Took forever, and depressed me to no end to see all the stuff I've let grow up in the past few weeks. Weeds growing up everywhere, including the pernicious mimosa, and the ugly but edible pokesalad. And the poor birdies needed water and food. So after some amount of time (I don't know how long, because after about 15 minutes I was hallucinating) I got through. Filled the feeders, filled the bird bath, and saw my very first hummingbird of the season, here at the very end of July. But, at least we've got some now. You know, I could sit and watch hummers for hours. (Of course, I like sitting and doing anything not involving real work.)

The rest of Saturday was as the rest of all Saturdays are--scrubbing a bunch of mopheaded children and doodling ears and cutting finger and toe nails and reading just one more story and multiple trips to the bathroom to pee, or look at the wall, or whatever else they could think up.

Sunday I got all my stuff together to bribe my new charges with. Two sacks--boy sack and girl sack, full of nice stuff for little kids who were good. Sat down and immediately kids start showing up with quizzical parents. Had to explain situation as delicately as possible, but everyone already knew the reason. Then, out of the blue, the 3rd and 4th grade teacher showed up, who also helps me with the curriculum. "What?" Explained to her the whole situation, without the delicate touches. And lest you think miracles do not happen, she volunteered to switch with me! Carefully shielding my joy, I weakly protested and said "no" while thinking "YES!!!' and finally relinquished the chair to her. And I got to teach Boy and Middle Girl and their classmates in the 3rd and 4th grade.

They were great, and it was an eye opener for these two kids, as this was the first time they had ever had me as their teacher. After the initial silliness, they stopped treating me like Dad and really started paying attention, which was neat. They and the rest were all interested and excited and learned well. This is just about the best age to teach--they can, and do, pay attention and they haven't yet decided how cool it is to be a smart aleck. I was just glad that I didn't have to scream at them, since I was supposed to be leading singing. Which went pretty well--we had a good sized crowd of about 230--but as always, I dislodged a hidden cache of ick and had to cough. Never fails. But everyone was on key for once, and everyone stayed with me, and everyone was loud, so it wasn't so noticeable. No more so than Peter Brady singing "It's Time to Change."

Lunch was without Miss Jennifer, who we've come to find out comes on duty at noon. Reba said we should go to the store and shop and wait on her from now on. Our waitress was nice enough, but took forever and was just a bit neglectful. Miss Jennifer is never like that. If I can figure out a way to go into a store without the kids wanting to get everything they see, we might have to try this.

Got home, got Tiny Girl ready for her pony lesson, and finally got to have actually one. Well, almost. We walked around for about 45 minutes before the thunder started and the horsies had to go bye-bye. Three weeks in a row, three monsoons right around 4 or 5 o'clock. At least she did get a little time. And the slobber I have mentioned? Her pony was Harley, who just prior to entering the paddock had consumed her afternoon repast, and spent the time of our lesson chewing and dripping on my hand. Eww.

After that, back home to towel off and change back into presentable clothes, then on back to church, then back home, then supper, then blessed bedtime. And then?

It was time for work.
posted by Terry at 4:58:00 PM