Ewwww Factor

Ewww. We were all fascinated when we found these bags of baby shad in the bait section at the store. The red ones have a red dye added and are sold as "wounded" baby shad. Isn't that sad?

Sam requested I post his photo holding said shad. His commentary follows: "Fish. In bags."

And there you have it, folks. Very much like his daddy, he is a man of few words.

*I have a vicious summer cold. It is eating my brain cells and this is about the best I can do. There is nothing quite like 95 degree weather and a head full of snot*

The Pinnacle Of My Very Own Brilliance

Let me start by telling you that I have a very good memory. The kind of memory that strikes envy in the hearts of many. More times than not, folks will ask me to consult what we refer to as The Permanent Record when they need vital information. I tell you, I'm like an Elephant...

Last night, around 9:30, I decided to run errands. The children were otherwise occupied and I just wanted a couple of hours to shop in peace rather than pieces. I shopped and shopped and shopped. My buggy was full of very important items such as vitamins, night firming cream, diapers, beer...all the necessities. I took my time. It was great. They started to announce one of the doors would be locked at 11pm but I didn't care. I'd managed to park outside the open door this time. I was ever so proud of myself for having such a perfect experience at Wal-mart. I placed all of my items on the belt. The lady was fast. She made my things fly across the scanner and into the bags at lightening speed. Then she came to the booze. She needed to see my ID. I reach into my little wallet on my key chain. I pull out my license and then it all goes to Hell; I remember my bank card is in the van.

"Excuse me! Ahhhhh....I, um, left my debit card in the car..."
"Well, go git it while I finish up here."

So I rush out into the parking lot and to the van. I fumble and scratch and dig around in the console...no card. I remember it's still in my purse. And my purse is AT HOME!!!!!

"F@#kitty, f@#k, f@#ck, f@#k!!!!!!!"

My brain screams, "RUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNN!"
But I can't run. I live here. I shop here. I can't be paranoid they will "know" me when I inevitably return next week. Plus, I really, really need that beer and those diapers. I hang my head in shame and go inside to face the music. I admit I have no card. The people behind me go into cardiac arrest. I can see the Coors peeking out of the bag. I whimper a little, deep inside.

"Well, you wanna go home an git it?"
"Yes ma'am. I will be back as soon as I can."

I made deep and meaningful eye contact with her. Then I really did turn and run...I sped off towards home until I saw the cops lying in wait on the Bypass. That's when I decided to do a couple of deep-breathing exercises and jut settle in for a drive within the speed limit. No need to turn my severe embarrassment into a full blown crisis and/or tragedy. When I pulled into the garage, Joe greeted me at the door.

"I have nothing. No groceries and no debit card. Where's my purse? I've got to go back."

Joe begins to howl. I had to leave him rolling on the floor. I knew he'd love it. As I jumped back into the van, I thought I could hear him call out, "Don't forget the beer!"

And that's that. I made it back thirty minutes after I initially went through the checkout. They had just voided the transaction so I had to remove everything from the bags and it had to be rescanned. She saved the booze for last then said, "It's 11:40 and if you'd been five more minutes, it'd be too late to sell ya this beer. Ain't that lucky?"

Yeah, ain't it though?