The Subway Stripper

I have sat down at this computer, to write about life over the last several weeks, many, many times... obviously to no avail. Life, it would seem, has chosen me for the busy buzzy bee role. The biggest highlight of which was the temporary adoption of one more toddler in the household.

Since I believe in the total immersion program ("Hello child, I'm going to pretend that you've been in our house for the last three years so that I can potentially trick myself into believing that I can do this and have been doing this all along.") I have rearranged our house to accommodate another toddler bed, stocked enough groceries to feed seven very hungry two-year-olds, and supplied my coffee addiction until my pupils are dilated to unnatural orbs. While this method seems to be working-- my house is actually still clean, the laundry is done, and I'm cooking dinner-- it has left me dizzy with tired. Bedtime: 1 a.m.

In addition to that I have work, my daughter's quickly approaching birthday, a remodel of our bedroom, and an assortment of personal things I want to get done-- including the final edits on THREE stories.

Life is crazy.

But, not without humor.

Last Friday seems to have been the pinnacle of what could happen when one just lets life hand them the unexpected.

It started with my getting both girls ready to go to a different babysitter than normal. The person that usually watched the short person had another commitment and I felt it would be easier if she didn't have them. So, that morning, I set out to get them dressed and fed and to TJ's house.

Now, I should start by explaining that I don't normally do this as you may expect that I would. My husband usually drives them to the babysitter's very early in the morning where they go back to bed for a couple hours making dressing in play clothes and breakfast unnecessary.

Not this day. No, this day it was my responsibility and... somewhere between dressing and breakfast all hell broke loose. A chore that probably should have taken a half hour took two-- and the pancakes turned out more like Frisbees, not helping the situation. But finally, I managed to get them out the door, stuffed animals, lunch, and all. Late, but in one piece.

I dropped the girls off, talked for too long, and then hopped in my car to go driving all over the western part of the state looking for Mickey Mouse paraphernalia, planning to grab my coffee on the way through town. I forgot, which turned out to be only one of my beginning troubles.

The first store I planned to try was the Disney Store at the mall 45 minutes away. Since there was also a KB Toy store there, I figured I'd kill two birds with one stone. I arrived at the mall, parked the car relatively close to a door, and wandered in.

The first thing I discovered is that the KB Toy store has apparently gone out of business because they are no longer there, which is not good because now I need to add one more stop to the long list of stops so that I can pick up my daughter's birthday presents. Resigned, I found the map listing the location of the stores and ventured down the corridor to Disney.

Now, you'd expect that they would have Mickey Mouse everything, yes? Mickey Mouse shirts, stuffed animals, plates... you name it, Mickey should be a large presence. After all, Disney was formed on the very little mouse that I sought. I needed party invitations and Mickey Mouse ears, and I hoped a t-shirt for my daughter to wear at her Mickey Mouse party.

Okay folks, there must be a Mickey Mouse boycott that I don't know about because there was NOTHING!

I take that back. I found some little Mickey ear shaped containers and a cup and a t-shirt that I didn't like. But that... was... it.

I circled the store in disbelief for about 30 minutes unable to accept what my eyes were not seeing before deciding to leave, adding a few more stores to the list I had going of where I needed to stop.

On my way back to my car, I decided to go upstairs in Sears and look for clothes for our newly, temporarily, adopted daughter. Most of the shirts that had been packed for her were getting a little small and I wanted to check out the clearance racks. Nothing. I found nothing for her, but a ton for my daughter-- who has more clothes than... jeez, Jennifer Lopez maybe. I talk myself out of all but one thing (and for the life of me, I can't remember what that was).

Finally, I'm back to the car, but I've recently had a conversation with a friend of mine that would like to go with me to the scrapbooking convention in town. I have 45 minutes to make the next stop-- the Current outlet, which is 15 minutes away-- and get to the lightrail station to meet her.
I get to where the outlet store is only to find out that they too have gone out of business. 30 minutes to go.

Now that I've discovered that this store is also no longer, I look around to see what stores there are and discover a JoAnn's fabrics and a Dollar Tree. Since I thought that I might be able to MAKE a Mickey t-shirt for my daughter, it was JoAnn's fabrics first where I did actually find ONE Mickey Mouse applique. Okay, if all else fails, I at least have something. I purchase it and make my way to Dollar Tree. Luckily, they too had Mickey Mouse items. Coloring books to be exact, and crayons. Not much, but a start in the whole party favor idea thing. I've spent the entire time looking through all the coloring books (roughly 1000 of them) and now only have two minutes left.

I met my friend and we made our way to the Convention Center. It is now nearly 1 p.m. and I'm beginning to feel the effects of no coffee or food since lunch the day before. But, there's no time to ponder that since we only had an hour and a half to cruise through 100 vendors all selling scrapbookware.

But not before I witness my first drug deal on the train.

Anyway, at the Convention Center we went through what was the fastest hour and a half of my life and by the time we got done I was dizzy. DIZZY dizzy. Bought some cute stuff though and am looking forward to using it :)

It should be mentioned that while I have a ton of experience riding the MAX, the choice of whom we sit next to is usually a decision that my youngest sister makes. She will board the train, find the absolutely scariest person in the car, and sit next to them.

And there have been some doozies.

The one I remember best was missing half his teeth, black, and about the size of Shaq.

My sister will strike up conversations with these odd people and talk the whole ride. Her theory is that by choosing the person who looks most likely to kill you, you are possibly saving yourself by attempting to ingrain them as a friend. Me, I just try to ignore... all of it. Yes, you could say the words "Chicken Shit" apply.

On this particular ride I tried to stay with that motto-- eyes down, don't look at them, they won't notice you. I tried, but I failed.

We got back on the lightrail and found ourselves standing in the middle of a group of gals in town for a bachelorette party. But it is about 5 minutes before we find this out, and we only find this out because 5 minutes into the ride a 20-something black man boarded the train and sat down smack in the middle of us and the girls.

***To be continued***