Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Monday, December 08, 2003

A Christmas Miracle!

Got home Friday evening, absolutely dreading having to get out and go do anything, much less in the form of shopping.

Parked, finished up my big bottle of liquid courage (Diet Coke), took a deep breath and went inside. So far, so good--no one had clobbered anyone with a doll or dared to sit in anyone else's seat--the kids were all in the den playing a game on the computer and were relatively quiet. And Mom, though tired, still had at least three nerves left. So far, so good.

Got everyone ready and their coats back on and out the door and in the van and on the way to the store. Still had to make it through all the mess of cars that I just KNEW was going to be at the Summit.

Drove right up the hill with almost no problem--traffic wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be. Hmm. Drove on down to Parisian--HAH!--I knew it! No parking places ANYWHERE...oooooh, wait...BACKUP LIGHTS! No! Stinkin'! WAY! Right in front of the entrance, right beside the handicapped place, a truck pulling out!! Hooray!

Figuring that this was going to be another one of those marathon shopping trips where I wind up having to herd children into a corner and stand guard, then give up and just take them all back out to the van to listen to the grouchy old man in the front seat harangue about feral children, I asked if Reba just wanted to take Oldest in and let us sit in the van.

"Well, I'm not really going to be gone THAT long..."

::sigh:: I recited the obligatory Instructions on How to Act Like Decent People While in a Place of Public Accomodation--do not touch ANYTHING, do not say ANYTHING, do not lick ANYTHING, &c., &c.

Out and into the store where they all started chattering like spider monkeys and touching everything. At least they didn't lick anything. (That I know of.) We stopped at a couple of displays, and then Mom made the decision she was going to get herself some undergarments with her gift card. Say--maybe this might turn out pretty good after all...

The whole troupe of us barged over to the fancy underpants section and within minutes, Reba found a display of PJs all packed up in adorable little boxes that looked like oversized Chinese food takeout containers. "Oh, how CUTE!" quoth she, and she grabbed one up and went to the cashier, paid, and we were READY TO GO! After only TEN MINUTES! AND NO TRIP TO THE BATHROOM!!

Indeed, it was a Christmas miracle.

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