We’ve been working on our kitchen for some time, and by “we,” I mean “Sean.” The inevitable reality of a 5-7 month project that is started when one person is 3 months pregnant is that what should be handled by many is handled by one.
I have tried to be patient, but often end up being frustrated that he is in the garage toiling and even more frustrated that I am stuck, sore, exhausted and useless. So last Sunday when he sent me to
to get some
to touch up the
I jumped. A purpose, yes! The girls were napping, so I dashed out promising to be back before they woke up. Of course, and you probably saw this coming, there was the inevitable imbecile blocking my way. Hand to god this woman moved back and forth blocking the entire selection of spray paint. I tried sighing, clearing my throat and even an excuse me. She moved at one point, but of course she moved the wrong way and I was rendered mute from my nauseating state of fury and defeat. I stood a few steps away gaping as time ticked away.
I actually toyed with the idea of buying paint meant for plastic just so I wouldn’t show up empty handed. I played the scenario out in my head and thought the odds were I’d end up back here with both girls or alone and kind of in the dog house, but not really because someone in my condition can really only be expected to be slow, both mentally and as they try to accomplish even the simplest task. So, I stayed, acknowledging with a deep, ragged breath that I’d probably end up behind this woman in line or on the road.
Grabbing a can of black spray paint, checking three times that it was:
2) for metal
3) not busted
dashed lumbered to the check out. There were four self-check out aisle, but I was wise to that, knowing that something would go wrong, so I turned to the others. All losers, not the people, but my options. I knew I was running out of time.
the nap was going to be over long before I returned. Blessedly I made it through the check out in about ten minutes and was attempting to get to the car without running. Outside the doors I came face to face with
And I found myself feeling torn. I wanted to help, but I was in a hurry and had no cash. So, I squeaked a quick, “I don’t have any cash, so sorry. I’ll come back.” It was a lie and I knew it, but I figured I’d make up for it another time. I headed out the door as the moms sang, “Ok, that’s ok. Thanks.” It was what came next, “Oooh, mom, did you hear her? She said she’d be back! She’s going to buy some cookies,” followed by squealing, that made me feel like this
My face flamed as I walked to the car. I didn’t have a checkbook, I’d been gone an hour and I don’t eat cookies.
I opened my wallet and checked the various pockets. Nothin’. Checked my pockets. More nothin’. Then I checked the change compartment of my wallet. A fiver. Score. I drove the car around, double parked next to the display of BBQ’s and snowblowers and darted inside, breathless and smug. “I told you I’d be back!”
“See, mom, she came back just like she said she would.” The mom gave me a look that said, “Bless you,” it was hard to tell if she meant for not letting her kids down or for going home so late. “Which kind?”
I hadn’t even considered it. I looked at the table and realized I didn’t really recognize any of them. All I knew was I shouldn’t get chocolate, any chance of redemption lay in returning with cookies that Sean and the girls would devour.
The Lemon Chalet Cremes are a decadent treat combining the distinct flavors of a rich, buttery cookies, the sweet tartness of lemon and a hint of ginger. A recent Consumer Research Report states that Americans want Girl Scout Cookie® as an “indulgent treat” and that the lemon flavor is among their favorites.
Good enough for me. After handing over the fiver and telling them to keep the change for the campaign I headed home to these treasures
bearing a box of these puppies
I spent Sunday night basking in the glory of Butter Cream and Blue Willow kitchen walls with my girls and my guy and a sense of having done the right thing.