Say What?

I bought a new bra today at a shop in our local mall. As I paid for it, the sales clerk asked me if I wanted it in a bag. Really? It wasn’t as if I was carrying any bags from other stores. I only had my purse. Was I supposed to cram my bra inside my handbag?

Maybe I should’ve said “no bag necessary,” and just strolled around Governor’s Square Mall carrying my new bra. I could’ve draped it around my neck and used it as a scarf, I suppose. Or maybe I could’ve worn it as a belt. How about as a hat? I could call it a branet–like a bonnet, only with cups and straps.

Hey, here’s a purse made out of a bra!

Instead I told her that I did indeed need a bag for my purchase. I guess I’m no trendsetter.

This all made me think of a specific Seinfeld episode:

Peace, people!

Flute Flavored

Yesterday I drove all the way across Tallahassee to Governor’s Square Mall solely for the purpose of getting a foot massage. You see, the middle metatarsal on my right foot has fallen, and it can’t get up. Consequently, I’m dealing with considerable pain when I walk.

There’s a Chinese man, Hong, at the mall who knows just how to manipulate my foot to provide relief from the pain for several hours. While he works on me I lean back in a recliner and drift away. I can never quite go to sleep, though, because my mind starts playing “Name That Tune” as Muzak with an Asian influence wafts through the spa area.

First up today was Greensleeves. If you’ve never heard this song played on a pipa, also known as a Chinese lute, you don’t know what you’re missing. Anyway, I identified the tune immediately. Here’s a video featuring the pipa:

Next up was It Never Rains in Southern California, but it took me half the song to figure that one out. The Asian influenced instrumental version lacked the pathos of the original song by Albert Hammond, turning it into just so many notes.

During my treatment, song after recognizable song drifted through the spa: Für Elise, Rhinestone Cowboy, Everybody’s Talking at Me, to name a few. Then some melody was introduced that I’d never heard before. It was lovely, but for the life of me I couldn’t place it.

I asked Hong what the song was, and he shrugged, but told me the instrument I was hearing was a dizi, or Chinese flute. So I dubbed the song, “Flute Flavored.” If there’s not already a song by this title, there certainly should be.

Peace, people.

A Good Day

Yesterday Studly Doright was working out of town. I knew he wouldn’t be home until late, so with a long expanse of time to fill I decided to get out of the house and find stuff to do.

My initial thought was to drive to St. George Island for a beach day, but a quick glance at the weather forecast showed rain showers for much of the afternoon. I’ll wait for a sunshiny day to head to the gulf.

Instead I went to see The Book Club, starring the fabulous four: Jane Fonda, Candice Bergen, Mary Steenburgen, and Diane Keaton. Even on a Tuesday morning the theater was almost full, and all but two of the seats were occupied by women. The movie is a treat, especially for women my age and older. I laughed harder than I have in ages.

Afterwards I had lunch at Zöe’s, and then strolled around Whole Foods. Exciting stuff, right? But I hadn’t felt as good as I did yesterday since the beginning of May, so for me it was exciting stuff indeed.

A rumble of thunder and a darkening sky hastened me on my way to my car, but I wasn’t ready to return to Doright Manor quite yet. I drove to Governor’s Square Mall, parked in the parking garage, and then wandered aimlessly for awhile. Then the Great American Cookie Company in the food court started calling my name. For awhile I was able to tune it out, but then it got really obnoxious and I had to have a chewy pecan supreme cookie to quiet the voices. I hate it when that happens.

Of course then I had to walk more to work off the cookie calories. I decided I needed an ottoman for our patio. Even knowing that none of the stores in the mall was likely to have such an item, I looked anyway. That’s how I tricked myself into walking for another hour. I’m easy like that.

Now that I was on a mission to find an ottoman, I left the mall and drove to the shopping center where Marshall’s and Bed, Bath, & Beyond are located. Surely I could find something to suit me at one of those two stores. Bed, Bath, and Beyond had ottomans more suited for inside use. Marshall’s had a couple that were indoor/outdoor, but they were gaudy. We can’t have gaudy at Doright Manor.

I want one like this:

Just for grins I walked through Michael’s arts and crafts emporium extraordinaire. There I found a crate that I thought I might could turn into a cute ottoman with a coat of paint and a bright pillow. But I got a splinter in my finger when I picked up the crate, putting a damper on that idea. I’m opposed to furniture that physically attacks me.

As I left Michael’s, a glance at my Fitbit told me I was within 1,000 steps of reaching my goal for the day, a goal I haven’t even come close to realizing for over a month. My feet were getting tired, but I buckled down and did a quick walk through of the Old Navy and Ulta stores in the same shopping center before driving home.

I fixed myself a light dinner and drank a tall glass of water. My Fitbit was at 9,900 steps, and I practically had to crawl to bed to finish out the day, but by golly, I reached my goal, and today should be easier. Or I might just have to hibernate and recover. Regardless, yesterday was a good day.

Peace, people.

Fox Pass

I overheard this while sitting at a table in the mall food court today.

Kid: I can’t believe I made that fox pass.

Mom: Huh? 

Kid: I just feel so dumb for doing that.

Mom: What did you do?

Kid: I asked my science teacher if she was pregnant and she said no. It was a fox pass.

(At this time I started giggling.)

Mom: What does a fox have to do with anything?

Kid: You know, when you make a mistake it’s called a fox pass.

Mom: (laughing) Oh honey, it’s not pronounced “fox pass,” it’s French and pronounced “fo paw.”

Kid: Oh, no wonder Mrs. Kinder looked at me funny when I apologized for my fox pass. I won’t make that fox pass again.

One thing I know, the kid is a reader. I did the same thing with “facade” for years until someone told me it was pronounced “fussod.” 


Now THAT’S a faux pas!
Peace, people!