Tag: shopping

Dizzy Is As Dizzy Does

I’ve been called “ditzy” more than once in my life but never “dizzy.” However, after a random dizzy spell threatened to take me out this afternoon I might have to embrace that nickname as well.

I was minding my own business, walking into a department store in search of my favorite brand and color of blush when objects in my peripheral vision appeared to be off kilter, a bit fuzzy. Hmmm, I thought, that’s weird, but continued to the cosmetics counter. Just a few yards from my destination I truly almost passed out. I quickly sat on a stack of ladies’ blouses and placed my head between my knees.

After a moment my equilibrium returned and I continued on my errand—with no luck, by the way. It seems my favorite blush, the one I’ve used for at least a decade is in danger of being discontinued. $&#%?!

Since the episode I’ve felt a bit on edge, worried that it might happen again. I drove home to Doright Manor on backroads just in case I needed to pull over, but there were no further dizzy spells—just the hint of a headache.

Of course being the hypochondriac that I am I now have decided I have either a brain tumor or something equally nefarious. Most likely it’s a sinus issue. Or maybe it’s the ghost of my latent talent rising to the surface and I’m going to be the next superstar on Broadway. Hello, Dolly, er Dizzy.

Peace, people!

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:

https://youtu.be/kw7PjickeFc

Peace, people!

How I Spent Black Friday

While thousands of my fellow Americans were engaged in combat with each other, vying for a bargain price on an 85-inch big screen TV or shoving to the front of a long line of like minded people in order to have the best shot at this year’s most asked for toy, I was tucked cozily beneath two layers of blankets on a massage table, enjoying an oh, so soothing facial.

I know it wasn’t a competition, but I’m pretty sure I won the day.

Half-assed Weekly Recap

I don’t lead an interesting life. In fact, if I weren’t such a klutz I’d be as boring as oatmeal. And not that fancy steel cut stuff with raisins, honey, and brown sugar. No sir. Plain old Quaker oatmeal sans butter. That’s how boring I’d be.

Some of my blogging friends provide interesting recaps of their weekly activities, though, and I thought I’d give it a go. Prepare to be underwhelmed.

  • Finished reading the sci-fi/fantasy series, Shadows of the Apt by Adrian Tchaikovsky. Tomorrow’s post will provide a review for any geeks out there.
  • Began reading The Expanse series by James S. A. Corey. So far, so good! I hear it’s been made into a television series.
  • Studly and I finished watching “Hell on Wheels.” I cried because it ended perfectly and because I’m sad that it’s over.
  • Watched the U.S. team lose to the Europeans in the Ryder Cup. Damn.
  • Studly bought a new sport jacket and I helped pick it out. Actually I just stood there and did my best to discourage any bad choices. He did well.
  • Bought a new pair of jeans. That must mean fall is here.
  • Shopped the amazing sidewalk sale in downtown Thomasville, Georgia, but only bought myself lunch–a beautifully made grown up grilled cheese sandwich at Sweetgrass Dairy. Yum!
  • Fished my favorite necklace out of the dumpster.
  • Spent one day watching the testimonies of Dr. Ford and Brett Kavanaugh. Some of those senators need to be sent to bed without supper. Lindsey Graham should be grounded for a year. Kavanaugh doesn’t have what it takes to be a Supreme Court Justice.

I’m sure I did other similarly non-fascinating stuff, but I didn’t sleep much last night, and a nap seems like a good idea at this time.

Peace, people.

Pumpkin Jumpsuit vs. Risqué Shirtwaist: There are no Winners

Yesterday I shared my tale of shopping angst. I’ve been in search of a cocktail or after 5 dress for an upcoming soirée, and so far I have found nothing. The dresses that fit my 5’8″, size 12, slightly past middle-aged frame, are few and far between. And ugly. I might be nearing the age of 62, but I refuse to dress like my obituary is going into tomorrow’s newspaper.

At one point yesterday I decided to think outside the box in my pursuit of the elusive not-so-matronly dress, so I went to a local store in Tallahassee that always has a mix of new and vintage clothing displayed in their windows. It’s a nice shop, with friendly staff, and a variety of casual and dressier items in stock.

After walking around the store with me and asking about my style and color preferences one of the sales ladies opened a dressing room and began bringing different pieces for me to try on. I was seriously stoked to see just what she might find!

The first outfit was a light green floral jumpsuit. It didn’t scream “COCKTAILS” at me, but I was keeping an open mind. This isn’t it, but it was similar:

On me, the pants ended around mid-calf and the waist hit about two inches north of where my actual waist resides. And the floral pattern just made me look like I needed a good weeding.

Next she brought me another jumpsuit. I wish with all my heart that I’d had the presence of mind to take a photo of me wearing it. First off, it was orange. Not a pretty orange, but a washed out, 70’s shag carpet orange. In fact, I’d swear Studly and I lived in a rental that had the exact same color carpet during our poverty period.

The jumpsuit was crafted from chenille, so I looked like a pumpkin, freshly picked. And again, the waist was too high and the legs too short. Stifling a bout of giggles, I politely asked the sales lady to refrain from bringing any more jumpsuits to the dressing room.

So she brought me an adorable dress. It was simple and sweet on the hanger, but on me? Fugedaboutit. My bosom could not be contained by this little slip of a dress. Indeed, parts of me better left hidden made mad attempts to escape if I even dared to breathe in the gown. It was a Jekyll and Hyde affair, to be sure. All meek and mild on display, while determined to ruin my reputation whilst being worn. Be very glad that I didn’t take photos of this dress. That’s not it below, but you get the picture, right!

My little experiment in thinking outside the box was unproductive; however, I left the store with a badly damaged self-image, and that’s what really counts.

Peace, people.

Snapshot #209

When Texas grandson, Jackson, comes to visit we always spend some time “thrifting” at antique and junk stores. Neither Studly Doright nor Jack’s sister, Dominique enjoy the activity, but yesterday afternoon they, along with our guest, Sophia, accompanied us to Havana to check out the local goods.

I didn’t have time to go through all the photos I took on our quest for the perfect thrift store find, but this piece caused each one of us to make a face and/or an exclamation of revulsion:

I’m calling it, “Ew! What’s Wrong with that Giant Creepy Doll’s Arms?”

I’m not sure what today will bring. Rain hampered outdoor activities yesterday, so we’re hoping for clearer skies on this Thursday.

Peace, people!

Lunch with my Cousin and a Night in LaGrange

Drive, drive, drive! That’s about all I did on Friday the 13th. I left my friend Nicky’s home in Kingsport, Tennessee, around 9:45 yesterday morning and drove to Knoxville to meet my cousin, Peggy, for lunch. Peggy is my second cousin. Her father and my grandfather were brothers. Both were handsome men married to attractive women.

Peggy and her two older sisters were the young women I looked up to as a child. All three were beautiful and well-mannered; whereas, I was a plain little girl with a tendency to rebel. Nevertheless, Peggy, who is three years my senior, was a sometimes playmate, and I have great memories of times we spent together in our younger days.

I’d lost track of Peggy for at least a couple of decades, maybe more, until a few months ago when she friended me on Facebook. After I’d accepted my friend Nicky’s invitation to visit Kingsport I began making plans to have lunch with Peggy in Knoxville on the way home.

Now I’m kicking myself because I forgot to get a picture of the two of us together. Damn. You’ll have to take my word for it, but Peggy is still beautiful and well-mannered. We did our best to catch up in the limited time we had to visit, but I need at least another week with her.

Once we parted ways I set my GPS to avoid major highways and the city of Atlanta on my trip home to Doright Manor. The resulting route took me on a scenic, yet curvy, roller coaster ride through Tennessee and into Georgia. I figured that once I’d gotten far enough south of the aforementioned Atlanta I’d reconfigure my settings to find the fastest route.

Back roads are fun, yet exhausting, and around 7:00 p.m. I decided to stop for the night in the town of LaGrange, Georgia. Now, I might’ve found the most perfect town in the world quite by accident. After checking into the brand new Courtyard by Marriott, I had a nice dinner in their bistro before setting out to explore the downtown area.

Directly across the street from my hotel was a park with a statue in the midst of a fountain.

Curious as to the identity of the statue, I crossed the street for a better look. I’d expected to see some Confederate war era general, but to my surprise and delight I discovered it to be a statue of General Lafayette.

According to GeorgiaInfo, an online Georgia almanac,

“Born at the Chateau de Chavaniac, Auvergne, France, on September 6, 1757, Gilbert Motier de Lafayette became at age 19 a major general on George Washington’s staff. He played a vital role in the defeat of General Charles Cornwallis at Yorktown, October 19, 1781, ending the American Revolution.

Later in France Lafayette was commanding general of the National Guard. Leader in the movement that gave France a republican form of government, author of the Declaration of the Rights of Man, and designer of the “Cocarde of Liberty” which he holds in his hand.

LaGrange, Georgia, was named for Lafayette’s home, the Chateau de LaGrange, on motion of Julius C. Alford, when this city was chartered on December 16, 1828…”

The statue and the surrounding park are a fitting centerpiece for this lovely town.

The First Baptist Church on the Square:

This is a museum of some kind. I’d have visited it if it had been open. Maybe on my next trip through the area I’ll have better timing.

Lots of interesting shops called to me, but again, I arrived too late:

I don’t think I’d ever seen a “Keep Off the Trees” sign before. It kind of made me want to climb them, rebel that I am.

I MUST visit this shop:

What a day, am I right? Lunch with a long lost cousin followed by a trip on scenic back roads, culminating in a stopover in LaGrange. I’m ready to be back home with Studly Doright and the cats, though.

Peace, people!

How I Spent Saturday Morning

Studly Doright has successfully slept more than four hours at one time for the past three nights. Hopefully this indicates that his nerve endings might finally be settling down after his back surgery. He woke up practically jumping for joy this morning, and hurried me through my shower and breakfast so I could accompany him on his errands.

His first stop was at a golf shop. Studly hasn’t been released by his surgeon to swing a club yet, but he likes to look. Then we went to a motorcycle shop to buy new grips for a bike he’s working on for the grandkids to ride. Motorcycles are much more fun to look at than golf clubs.

Afterwards I mentioned that I could really use a new pair of sandals. When Studly is in a shopping mood it’s good to put in a request.

The cats like them. They might slightly resemble their scratching post.

Peace, people.

A Metaphor?

Monday is laundry day. Now that there are just two of us in the Doright household the chore isn’t nearly as tedious as it once was. I still don’t love doing laundry, but I don’t mind it nearly as much.

Once the final load was in the dryer I drove into Tallahassee for a few necessities. Normally I avoid the big retailer (aka Walmart), but it was the nearest store that was sure to have everything I needed.

When I entered the store I was looking for just three items, so I didn’t grab a shopping cart. Can you believe how naive I still am at the ripe old age of 61.5? One doesn’t simply shop at Walmart without a cart.

As my arms became overburdened with just discovered “must haves” I began looking for an abandoned cart. As luck would have it, I found one just around the corner from the Preparation H aisle. Don’t ask, but yes, that was one of my necessities. Damned diverticulitis.

It didn’t take me long to realize why the cart had been abandoned:

That annoying intermittent sound (much louder in real life than in the above video) was my cart. The darned thing handled like a two ton tank that every few feet emitted an awful buzz causing fellow shoppers to wince and/or laugh out loud. A small child began crying as I approached.

I guess I could have abandoned the cart as its previous operator had done, but I decided to embrace it instead, quirky sound effects and all. As I wrestled my noisy cart around the store, adding milk and cat treats and plain yogurt and bananas and yes, Preparation H, among other things, I began to think of the cart as a metaphor for life:

“The road we travel isn’t always peaceful or smooth, but if you keep pushing, eventually you’ll get to lay down your load.”

Okay, that’s a crummy metaphor, but what are you going to do? Sue me?

Peace, people.

Rivertown Mercantile

On Thursday afternoon I drove the 45 minutes to the small town of Blountstown to get my hair cut and colored. My stylist, Genia Burke at Head 2 Toe, worked her magic and I look human again.

My trips to Blountstown are never complete, though, without a stop at Rivertown Mercantile. I’m in search of a bedside table for one of our guest bedrooms, and thought I might find one here. I didn’t find one that met my needs, but I enjoyed looking all the same.

I got a kick out of their sidewalk advertisement:

I love the displays of antiques and vintage items for sale.

On past visits I’ve bought some vintage botanical prints as well as some fun knick knacks and old books. Alas, I am still a bit puny and didn’t have the stamina to shop until I dropped. Actually I was a little worried that dropping might’ve been an unintended outcome, and I still had to drive home. I’ll be back in a month or so, and indulge myself further then.

By the way, I don’t receive any type of compensation for mentioning these businesses. I just like spreading the word.

Peace, people.

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