This afternoon/evening, Aunty Katy and I went on a little shopping trip. Because the shopping in our fair town is pretty much limited to Wal-Mart, we drove 45 miles south to St. George, our plan being to spend my Pier One gift certificate, find a b-day present for mom, and check out the Petco for some Jimmy toys.
The shopping was fine--uneventful even. Of course, I had a rough time at the pet store--because I'm a novice at shopping for dog stuff, and after wasting 30 minutes of Katy's life looking at squeaky toys, rolly toys, and bouncy toys, I purchased exactly zero toys. (I ended up with a greeny dog toothbrush-thing, and a gum massaging corn starch bone. Also, that dog buffet thing with all the dog treats and cookies and stuff kind of weirded me out. Am I alone in this?)
The true excitement happened when we went to grab a bite to eat before heading home. We went to Fazoli's (Italian food...fast!). I've been there a few times, and when the surly kid at the counter handed me this gigantic hokey puck thing with a number on it, I assumed it was so that whoever was bringing me my linguini could find my table. So there I am, casually contemplating the soda choices while filling my cup with ice, and the weird puck thing goes off like a freakin' roman candle! It's flashing--buzzing, vibrating, and I figure either the sky is falling, or I'm having some weird seizure that's localized in my left hand.
I didn't know whether to shit or go blind! My first impulse was that I needed to put it down--and fast. I took a couple steps toward our table, looking at Katy for some clue as to what the fuck was going on. Of course, I then realized that what I had in my hand was a truly obnoxious device designed to let customers, even catatonic ones, know that their food was ready to pick up. I franticly looked for a button to stop the flashing, buzzing, and beeping, but there was none. So I hurried to the counter, hucked the puck to surly kid 2, and grabbed my food.
This device, in my opinion, is a dire sign about the state of our culture. Surely it wouldn't be TOO much trouble for someone, say surly kid number 3 to bring my food to me? Or perhaps they could give me a number to listen for? Also, are people really so wittless and vacant that they need 3 of their five senses shocked in order to know that their five dollar pasta is ready?
Apparently I was the only one in the "restaurant" who was new to the scary buzzing hokey puck. No one else seemed to be surprised or mind it at all when jolted into action by said device.
I guess I need to get out more.
Today's best thing about being a mom:
Watching "Snow White and the Seven Dwarves"
Today's worst thing about being a mom:
While we were shopping, Sophie stayed with my mom. After spending quite a bit of time in the sand box, she complained, as usual about the "sand in crack!" My mom tried to clean up the crack in question with a wipe. However, when we got home, there were still sand issues. Maybe she's trying to make a pearl.