A Scofro, Gravy Shoes and the night at work

Katy and I have been doing some research for the upcoming Geography Fair. We decided to present Scotland this year because we have some heritage there.

‘some’ is what I thought. As it turns out we are completely Scottish, from the butterscotch chips in my pantry to the dreadful state of my hair these days. My hair started getting more and more curly with each subsequent child I birthed. I told Kirk that I was going to keep having babies 'til I had an afro. It was then that I realized that, being Scottish, I wouldn’t have an Afro, I’d have a Scofro.

When I got home from work tonight I told Kirk that, if I were to comb my hair out and take a brush to the unruly mass I’d look like Bozo on a bender. “Hey, boys and girls, wanna assess risk with me?”

Anyhoo, tonight was not without it’s highlights. I got to work with the new girl, who is, get this, named ThatCyndiGirl, too!! Same spelling and everything. I told her that I was going to drag her to tap class so we can work out a Me and My Shadow number. I think she’s game. (And her new nickname shall henceforth be “Cyndi: The Sequel”)

I ran to the place where we get dinner these days and promptly dumped about 4 gallons of mashed potatoes and 17 gallons of brown gravy on my ugly sandals. Yes, the ones that Kirk has despised for twelve years straight. I think he put out a hit on my sandals. He’s been giving them the stink-eye for years. Looking back on the event’s of the evening I now see all this foreshadowing. Kirk’s furtive glace around the room as I donned the horrid footwear, the man who loaded the food into the van at PlaceWhereWeGetDinnerTheseDays who was a little too nice about the whole thing and a little too insistent that HE load the trays.


Hmmm. The more I think about it, the more I think Kirk DID put a hit out on my shoes.

I have a t-shirt he has been trying to get rid of for years. "Don’t go into the laundry, Dear One, I’m comin’ for ya!!"

Carole in the kitchen

As I was working with dear Carole the other day, the subject of juicers came up. She piped up, "Oh, I have one of those! I just LOVE it! Why, I was even able to make powdered sugar with it!"


At that moment I heard it-Jack Lalane had a cow.

What I would like to know is how a person looked at that machine, the contraption that, just down the street from my doughnut-swilling family, creates spinach smoothies which are consumed for breakfast.....and said,"I'll bet I could juice SUGAR!"

What's next? French Fry Frappes? Cheeseburger Shakes?


That Carole's a culinary genius, I tell ya! (Leave it to a diabetic to figure out a way to juice sugar!)

Denzel at the Walgreens

Prior to coming in for a twelve hour shift I took a quick shower with the associated shampooing of the mane. A full fourteen hours later, as I was driving home, I reached up to my head and realized that my hair was still wet.

Fourteen hours later.

Before climbing into bed I wondered what would happen if I ran my fingers through the curls and waves to get the remaining gel out of it. My hair was quickly transformed from semi-normal/borderline Good Hair Day to a cross between Don King and Ronald McDonald. A stacked red afro. And, if you must know, an ANGRY red afro that shook each time I moved my head, like a stacked, layered, orange jello wedge of attitude.

Fast forward to later in the day. I was informed that we were out of feminine hygeine products and they were needed NOW as opposed to later. Off to Walgreens I go, thinking that I will get errands out of the way before jumping in the shower and leaving for work.

As the saying goes, "famous last words".

Off I go to Walgreens in running pants, my power t-shirt (from ThinkGeek, it glows in the dark!) and the aforementioned angry red afro.

I picked up the feminine product, and, since ingesting twelve thousand grams of fibre per day has failed to make my 'earth move' of late, some prune juice. Redbox is running a promo right now with Engangered Species candy bars. If you buy a candy bar you get a free one night movie rental. Who am I to pass up such an offer? Buying that $2 candy bar just saved me one dollar in movie rental fees! So, there I am with the pads, prune juice and candy bar and,.....Glamour magazine.

I approach the counter and only because I have the luck that has followed me throughout my lifetime, Denzel Washington's twin is checking me out at. And, of course, by 'checking me out, I can only mean 'completing my transaction'. No one was 'checking me out' last night, save for the very large sweaty man who looked at me in the snack aisle. The look on Denzel, Jr's face screamed, "oh, honey, there's nothing in that magazine that can help YOU. Those magazines are reserved for the Pretty People. You put that back and grab yourself a bible and a pocket protector!"

Geeze, why didn't I just round out my purchase with some Monistat and a tube of Ben Gay?!