I almost hate to admit this because I fear you will all be disappointed in me.
I didn’t make it to Target to look at the Missoni collection. I know. It’s like I don’t even know who I am right now.
The truth is that I had good intentions but we all know the road to owning inexpensive Missoni merchandise is paved with good Target intentions. But then Tuesday morning turned out to be busy for a multitude of reasons and by the time I thought about making the long journey to Target I could tell from all the buzz on Twitter that it might be like walking into sheer insanity or an elementary school cafeteria.
There were rumors of people piling their baskets full of everything Missoni they could get in their red plastic cart, the Target website crashing, and shoppers who bought only with the intention to resell it on Ebay. Which, honestly, raises some unshoppingmanship red flags with me. Whatever happened to just shopping for the love of zig-zag prints?
Anyway, I think all of the hoopla caught Target totally off-guard. I just hope the security assets protection division had this bad boy gassed up and ready to go.
Oh that the Lord would allow me to see it in action one day.
In other news, well, there’s not much other news. I took Caroline to the dentist yesterday morning and that was every bit as fascinating as what you’re imagining. And I did have a mini-celebration when the dentist announced her permanent teeth are coming in really straight and her bite looks good because I don’t know if y’all know this but orthodontia don’t come cheap. I know this because I had to have braces at the tender age of thirty-four years old. I refer to that time period as the two years I walked in extreme humility and lived in fear of shooting a rubberband from my mouth across a cocktail party.
So I treated her to a double-chocolatey chip frappucino to celebrate. It was my little way of saying “Hey Kid, way to have good teeth and potentially save your parents thousands of dollars. Here’s a four dollar drink in honor of the occasion”.
I really am at a loss for anything else to say. I feel a little “we could talk or not talk for hours” leaning heavily on the not talk side. But it’s just been one of those weeks filled with the pest control guy spraying the house and picking up dry-cleaning and thawing out hamburger meat and trying to make a bunch of stuff in my refrigerator magically turn into a good dinner.
(I just read that paragraph and it sounds like the pest control guy picked up my dry-cleaning. That is not the case.)
(Although how awesome would that be? Someone should do that.)
(I could edit that paragraph so that it reads better but that would take a lot of work.)
Speaking of a lot of work, I was driving Caroline to school on Tuesday morning and she was telling about some math test she had taken the day before.
She told me, “It didn’t make sense. The question asked if an armadillo’s head is six inches long and his tail is four inches long and his total length is eighteen inches, then how long is his body?”
(Word problems are of the devil. You’ll never convince me otherwise.)
But I responded, “Well, what didn’t make sense?”
She said, “How am I supposed to know how long an armadillo’s body is? I’ve only seen ONE in my whole life and he was running really fast.”
I think she makes an excellent point.
That’s why I’ve never liked math.
However, I do like Missoni. But not enough to fight a crowd at Target for it.