Sunday, July 1, 2012
How to celebrate 12 years of wedded bliss? At Target, of course.
I'm back. Sort of. I'm not sure if you heard, but we live in middle America, and around these parts, it's been 150 degrees for the past three weeks. Basically my body is doing this thing where it keeps me alive throughout the day, and then when I try to have a thought, or a conversation with my children or my husband, it comes out like this:
"STOP DOING THAT!!!!"
Or, my personal favorite,
"WHY is there a wet swimsuit in the snack bin???????" What energy is not zapped by survival is spent on mysteries of this nature. Including which little drunk person is stuffing their vitamin gummies underneath their mattress every night. This should be pretty OBVIOUS--but I am so damn hot, I don't even remember who sleeps where anymore.
And then when I try to sit down and blog, it comes out like this:
Clearly I am going brain-dead, because Little J has been attempting to try this Target-shopping-cart manuever for the past few months, and today I/ we couldn't think of a single reason as to why it wasn't the BEST IDEA EVER. You see, it's our ANNIVERSARY. Twelve wonderful, child birthing, traumatic, cancer surviving, juice cleansing-filled years. We actually celebrated with dinner last night, and our choices for today's festivities included an ice-bath, a visit to our zoo's climate-controlled penguin habitat, or shopping for something made out of cotton knit at Target. This is when I inadvertently realized that Target makes the BEST triple stroller, and that they are FREE in parking lots across America.
Also, we chose to watch the movie "Radio" (yes, Radio.) and to seek a local venue that sells cupcakes after 6 p.m. on a Sunday. DOESN'T EXIST. Way to go, universe, that's like killing a puppy, or something equally ATROCIOUS. Because I am one accommodating lady, I decided instead on a milk shake--but we had to drive around for a while to find THAT as well, because it's my anniversary, and I wasn't gonna settle for no Steak-n-Shake. Just keeping it classy, like a child pretending he's on an Olympic luge through Target's aisles.
Happy heat wave, friends.