Snow!
I know all you in the mid west are well over this phenomenon by now, poor guys...
But we have been dying for it here and how pretty it looks.
Keith needed new running shoes but bad so we went out shopping, Keith still in ACUs from his morning at work. It was really nice; there was no one else out, the roads were pretty bad.
In the mall I ducked into Victoria's Secret, knowing their semi annual sale was on. Gosh, it'd been a while; since going to the mall and certainly since going to VS's. I can't help but think that Victoria's Secret are for all those girls in their late teens to early twenties who haven't yet figured out that the lingerie there is over priced and highly unimaginative, and they can get better quality at a much lower price at Target. Still, their bra sales can't be beat and I found one that fit well for just sixteen dollars, not bad at all.
Keith took one look inside the yawning pink maw of the store and did some rapid back tracking, sputtering on something about how he was going to go look for shoes down the way. I was still trying bras on, a process any woman knows to be both timestaking and painful in any venue, when my cell phone rang.
Apparently he had made several brief forays into the store, heart pounding and quickly retreated in panic when he was unable to make contact. From his temporary position off target, he called to be sure I was still there. He said everybody was looking at him and he was going to withdraw completely and establish temporary base at the food court, out of everyone's line of sight.
After lunch, he picked up the bags. I looked over to see my tall, uniformed soldier grasping the tiny little pink bag in one of his hands and looking a little lost. I couldn't help it, I just laughed right out loud.
"Jenny," he said, trying to be stern and not laugh. "Take the bag."
"Jenny.... Jenny Lynn Indiana!"
I took the bag before his head exploded, poor guy. But it made my day.
He felt much better on the way home when we came across two vehicles that had slid off the ice slick road.
"I bet they need help!" he said, with an undertone of excitement.
They did indeed, and he was able to pull the battered sedan back up onto the road with hardly any effort from the HD. ("The RPMs hardly revved over idle as he pulled the heavy Cadillac out of the two foot deep ditch in ice and snow." That sentence courtesy of the man himself. He has now wandered on up to his Man Room after pronouncing himself "Editor.")
While Keith was helping, another soldier, this one in his Class-As, showed up as well. He whipped his green jacket off, put on a wind breaker and plowed in to see if he could pull any one out with his truck too, never mind his spit polished shoes. I was proud to see how the Army showed up.
I love the Barefoot Contessa. She just whipped up a big batch of chicken chili. She always wears black and yet seems to get nothing on her shirt. How is that possible?
