Another day

Good news!

The friendly Sears repairman showed up at exactly 8:10 a.m. yesterday morning. Clearly, I am living right.

Bad news!

The dryer is dead. There was talk of a resurrection but, considering the majority of parts needed are no longer in existence for our particular model, as far as resurrections go it would have ranked up there with raising Lazarus from the dead.

Except it wouldn’t have been free, but rather $350.00 with parts and labor.

On the bright side, Sears applies the repairman’s diagnostic fee towards the purchase of a new dryer so I headed to our brand new Sears Outlet store to purchase a dryer.

I walked in, looked around and decided on some sort of Kenmore with limited bells and whistles. It was the dryer of choice for two reasons.

1. It was big on the inside.

2. It didn’t have a complicated control panel. I get stressed out with too many drying options. Life is hard enough without adding in PERMANENT PRESS/COTTON vs. LOW HEAT/DRY SENSOR.

Several of you were concerned about my washing machine situation, so I feel the need to let you know that we purchased a brand new front loader washing machine about a year ago.

I put a lot more thought into the washing machine purchase because a good washing machine is crucial whereas a dryer is just something I use to dry socks, sheets, pajamas and towels. Everything else gets hung to dry.

Also, thank you for all the helpful suggestions. According to the comments, I should never buy a Maytag and only buy a Maytag. Whirlpools are terrible, but some of them last for twenty years. GE is horrific, but some people swear by them. Ugly washers and dryers last longer than pretty washers and dryers.

The only real consensus was that those of you with LG washers and dryers adore them and, apparently, they sing a little song and make the universe a happier place. But here’s the thing, for me personally, spending money to buy an appliance is like spending money to rent a shovel or a paddleboat.

If I’m going to shell out big money, it’s going to be for something meaningful, like shoes or a great pair of jeans. Things that can truly change your life.

Anyway, while I was perusing the store for a dryer, I spent a lot of time opening and closing the doors of various dryers as if that would give me some insight into their drying capabilities. It seemed to give the illusion of KNOWLEDGEABLE CONSUMER.

Everything was going really well until I shut my middle finger in one of the dryers.

That was when I just picked one (not the one I slammed my finger in because clearly that dryer was a bad seed), made the purchase, scheduled delivery and walked out of the store with my dignity, if not my middle fingernail, in tact.

Since I was right next door to Target, I decided it might soothe the pain of my ailing finger. But as I walked through the women’s clothing I realized I must be delirious from the pain because I thought I saw floral print leggings on display.

And then I came to the horrifying realization that Target is, in fact, offering floral print leggings for purchase.

I haven’t thought about floral print leggings since the days I thought it would be awesome if everything I owned was by Adrienne Vittadini.

In other words, EIGHTEEN YEARS.

I smell a comeback.

In which case I won’t need that dryer because everyone knows you have to hang those bright, floral knits to dry.

Fashion Friday will return next week. I accidentally deleted my entire fashion email file, so if you’ve submitted a question it is floating around somewhere in internet space. However, next week I’ll discuss the top trends for fall.

Only time will tell if floral leggings make the cut, but I’ll go ahead and say DOUBTFUL.

Yesterday morning I woke up and still had the itch o’ death. Then I began to read comments that discussed things like flesh-eating bacteria and wool pea coat allergies and decided I should go to the doctor to rule out my imminent demise.

The official verdict is I had an allergic reaction to my sunscreen.

Oh Coppertone. You betrayed me in my quest to practice safe sun.

However, I will take the sunscreen allergy over the possibility that I am allergic to my new pea coat. That would be tragic.

The nice doctor offered to give me a shot, but I think the look on my face was the only answer he needed. Umm yeah, I’ll just be taking that prescription and anything you have in the way of a topical ointment.

Anyway, let’s revisit the trip to Port Aransas where I contracted my horrendous skin disease.

We arrived at the beach last Tuesday afternoon, unloaded all our supplies and headed for the ocean. I’ll be honest, the water was dirty even by Texas beach standards which aren’t high.

But our little surfer girl was ready to go.

She and her daddy even managed to catch some fish in their throw net.

And the fish were the perfect addition to the ecosystem I had been feverishly constructing while the Coppertone ate away the top layer of my skin.

The next morning, P and I knew we needed a game plan to ensure we weren’t back in the ocean before 9 a.m. because beach vacations are all about pacing yourself. So we went out to eat breakfast at the Island Cafe because what makes a girl feel bathing suit ready like a short stack of pancakes covered in syrup?

I may have also had a breakfast taco.

After that, we drove over to the docks to see all the fish that the fishermen had caught that morning. I’m telling you there is nothing like the smell of fish and fish guts to make you want to tie some cement blocks to your feet and throw yourself off the dock just to make the smell go away.

But Caroline is her father’s daughter and is not deterred by all the gross.

Here she is checking out the live bait. She really wanted to buy one of the shrimp to keep as a pet.

And here she is with her daddy, watching a man with questionable dental hygiene clean some fish.

Our last stop before we hit the beach was a souvenir shop with a large shark out front. Caroline wasn’t going to rest until she went inside the shark.

Then, it was back to the beach.

And because I am careful about limiting my sun exposure, I continually sprayed myself down with torture in a can.

On Thursday we packed up the truck and began the arduous journey home.

This is Caroline after we’d been on the road for 2.5 seconds.

I wanted to join her but felt like P needed moral support as he drove home. I also thought he might need someone to share the pre-packaged Bluebird Cherry Pie he bought at the Quikmart, but he didn’t even offer me a bite.

I can’t believe I am married to someone who eats pre-packaged cherry pies from a convenience store. They are just not up to the culinary standards of, say, a Grandma’s Chocolate-Chocolate Chip Cookie.

The rest of the way home, I spent my time commenting on the absurdity of all the Hurricane Evacuation Route signs along the way. It makes me proud to see our tax dollars hard at work pointing out common sense. In case of a hurricane you can either drive north or head straight into the ocean.

Thank you, TXDoT for that valuable information.

Too bad they don’t post warnings about potential sunscreen allergies. It would have saved me a tube of hydrocortisone, four bottles of Zyrtec, the shame of wearing jeans and a long-sleeve shirt to church in the middle of August, and a $35.00 co-pay at the emergency clinic.

Thank you so much for all the birthday wishes, emails and sweet comments! I have to say, other than the fact that it’s just three years away from forty, thirty-seven is awesome.

We’ve been at the beach in Port Aransas since Tuesday morning, so this is how I spent my birthday.

I’ll have y’all know that I became so obsessed with building that moat that I continued to dig long after Caroline lost interest and headed back into the surf.

In fact, look what I did to my finger in my quest to make the BEST MOAT EVER.

The picture does not do my injury justice. It is a massive blister.

I blame the quality of the plastic shovel that I bought at Dollar Tree.

And the fact that my OCD was alive and well on my 37th birthday.

We got home late yesterday and decided to finish the birthday celebration by picking up Mexican food from one of my favorite restaurants.

Oh, and then I spent the rest of the night watching The Olympics and getting P to take pictures of the blister on my finger from various angles so that I can show it to Caroline some day as proof of her mama’s dedication to sand-crafting excellence.

Which just goes to show, while I may be a year older, some things never change.

And on another note, I promise I will get back to Fashion Friday at some point, but it clearly didn’t happen today and I guarantee it won’t happen next week. Let’s just call it a summer hiatus.

Y’all have a great Friday.