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Posts Tagged ‘gifts’

I am mostly upright now and have left the walker in the corner.  When these things strike, it surely gives me more sympathy for mom, who uses a walker all the time.  What a great invention.   However, the pain pills and massive Ibuprophen to bring the swelling down, are not doing nice things to my stomach. 

During my visit with Master’s Daughter, thank goodness pre-hurt the back day, I had a grand old time when invited to shop with grandson and Master’s Daughter for Grandson’s birthday.  He’s a Hollister & Co guy. 

He was once chased down the aisle of the mall, by a Hollister employee.  They caught up with him and told him that the boss had seen him walk by and wanted to offer him a job as he looked like he belonged there.  Thank goodness, I thought that hair just hung in his eyes so he could avoid looking at the world. 

 How to be Cool Over 40 « XUP, with her blog about being cool over 40, reminded me about my day at the mall and looking for cool clothing with Hollister Guy.  He has grown a couple of eight inches since he was offered a job and they no longer carry clothing as long as he wants there.  And, my suggestion to check the tall men’s shop was met with a scathing look, that said, “You are so NOT cool!”

We stopped in for several shirts, all of his shirts say Hollister and I noted to myself “Christmas gift” until I found out that not every Hollister Shirt is equal.  One shade of orange is definitely cooler than the other shade.  The wave on the front is not as cool as just words.  And,one pair of size 32/30 pants (because they do not come any longer) is definitely NOT as good as the identical pair of 32/30 pants that either his mother, or I pulled out.  Once, one whole time out of the afternoon, I got to say, “I knew that.”  I had picked the right one. 

Maybe I am so “Not so much NOT cool” after all.

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I have this bad habit of stashing things. I may be leaving the house and stash something so it is out of sight. I may be temporarily hiding a present to be wrapped later. Whatever the case is, it usually means that I will not find it again without considerable trouble.

This time I hid the presents that JRock had gotten for his two brothers. I have spent hours and hours pulling out every Rubbermaid in storage and searching them, in the hopes of finding these two gifts. This has been going on for a week now.

Today, I went out to the cold, cold porch five times and went through approximately thirty Rubbermaids once and thirteen of them again, in desperation to find those gifts. Gaffer is due in at 11:24 pm tonight and I want to get this out of the way.

I did find a bag of stocking stuffers that I must have purchased last summer. That was a surprise for me even. I am ready to give up. I have also searched a long dresser several times and behind furniture, etc, all to no avail. I am sitting here bemoaning my idiocy when husband reaches down, opens a box next to his chair, that I thought contained umpteen bottles of medicine he had recently received, and says, “Here they are.”

I believe my days of stashing things are at an end. I do not want to go through that again.

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Master’s daughter always gives the greatest gifts. I have received a Japanese tea set, a miniature Stonehenge (we’re still waiting for a Scottish fellow to time travel through), a circular knitting sock kit, complete with a neat bag, and “The Aspiring Writer’s Journal.” 

Too bad she can’t give me a better memory, because I know there are more neat gifts, but I cannot remember them at this moment.  They are always a delight and a complete surprise, and will be again when I find what I have done with them.

 

So, my inspiration for today, (“Ahem! Ahem!” She cleared her throat.) is a page in the Writer’s Journal, she gave me.

 

The assignment is:—  Make up a story beginning with the following quotation-

“When Sleeping Beauty wakes up, she is almost fifty years old.”

 

I have changed the opening line, but the premise is there.

 

(Okay, I cannot believe I am going to embarrass myself this way, but what the heck?  Here it is, complete with errors in punctuation and dangling participles.)

~~~~~~~~~~~

  

Sleeping Beauty woke from her near eternal sleep and gasped for air.  My, how tight my corset doth feel.  Hands above her head, she stretched—and screamed.

 

 “Spots! What are these spots! There are brown spots on my hands and arms?”

 

Blankets flew as she surged to the mirror, her body half bent over. 

 

“Kricky!” she said, being a fan of British blogs.  “Oh my aching back! Heads will roll for not removing the peas under my mattress and, speaking of pees, I do believeth I am damp.  What, in blazes, goeth on?”

 

Lines stared back from the mirror.  These were the final insult as Sleeping Beauty, who was all of eighteen when she fell into her near eternal sleep, ‘twas now fifty.  She  lay sobbing into her pillow, for no handsome Prince would search for a wrinkled Sleeping Beauty, she feared.

 

In a far distant land by the sea, gallant Lord Viggo, some years younger but no longer a youth, lived. He could feel her sorrow and confusion.

 

“Hark!” He called. “I shall scry for the sound of sorrow I hear.”

 

And, scry, he did.

 

“She ‘tis a vision of loveliness to me.” He said as he peered into the water.  “A woman of wisdom and experience. No petulant youth need I put up with. And, her smile sets my heart free.”

 

‘Twas but a journey half way cross the land, to the woods where the beauty lay sleeping and where he dried her tears and they lay on the swing of her porch and watched the stars for a near eternal life.

THE END

 

I shall go and hideth my head under the pillow now.

 

 

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