Shoe Shopping

She went in to town to pick him up. They were going to the store to buy him new shoes, then they were going for pizza. They went first to the department store. The highway was crowded as usual and it took them ages to get to the store.

Once at the store they visited the shoe aisle, but as they expected there were no sandals available. (Would you believe they sell winter boots in Hawaii? The locals actually think it gets cold when the temperature hits the low 70’s F.) She mentioned that they also needed (insert list of common household supplies here.) Despite the fact that they bought less than $50.00 worth of stuff, the place was packed and shopping took forever.

They discussed which shoe store to visit, but first she insisted on going to the pharmacy to get her allergy meds. As they returned to the car she was complaining about her sinuses throbbing. She said the first thing she was going to do at the pizza place was order a beverage and take her pill. They got in the car. He drove to the pizza place and she took her pill. They ate yummy pizza and talked and laughed and enjoyed each other’s company.

When they returned home from their shopping trip — the one they undertook to buy him shoes still in one piece — guess what they didn’t have?


Ya’ll aren’t gonna believe this … but it seems I was short a blog.  I absolutely needed — had to have — a journal to keep track of my reading.  Since I have to keep the journal, I thought I might as well put it online (where it can’t slide under the bed and get lost) and make it public.

I probably won’t post on my reading blog everyday — unless all the books I read are as good as the one I am reading now!  If you are interested in what I am reading, or what I have read so far in 2008, stop by the site and look around.  Feel free to comment or not.  Also feel free to pick up a copy of the book I’m reading and read along with me.  You can learn more about it at Read & Reflect, yet another Quilldancer blog!  (Help!  I’m blogging and I can’t quit typing!)


Ms. Jewls hit the print button on the computer. The printer did not respond. She checked all the connections and tried again. Nothing. I walked over to the printer and spied a little red flashing light. “Jewls, this says to check the print cartridge.”

She said, “Okay, check it.”

I looked. And looked. And looked. And looked.

“Well?” She said.

“Where is the print cartridge?” I queried.

She said, “Open the machine. It’s right in front.”

“Uhm, no,” I answered, “It’s not.”

She looked at the clock. In less than half an hour she and those papers had to be in a meeting. She sighed. It was a disgusted, what-are-you-an-idiot?, type of sigh, but she refrained from saying anything of the kind. She got out of her chair, came over to the printer, opened the front panel and looked. And looked. And looked.

Then she turned the machine around to the light and looked again. “I don’t believe it!” She exclaimed, and looked at me. “Someone took the print cartridges out!”

“Along with the entire print carriage,” I agreed.

Ms. Alyce came in the room. We asked her to look at the printer. She was just as stymied as we. Ms. Angel had a similar reaction. None of us — the people who work in that room and have keys to the door — took the print carriage and ink cartridges out of the printer, yet they are gone.

Even more baffling, a cabinet sporting several packages of full ink cartridges is nearby and unlocked. Within that cabinet are several thousand dollars worth of other supplies — completely unmolested. Not only that, computers (2 desk & 1 laptop), 2 boom boxes, a room full of expensive children’s toys and an entire 3′ x 3′ x 2′ box of almost new children’s clothes remain untouched. All that is gone is the ink cartridges and their carriage.

Who? When? Why?

Excuuuuuuze Me!

Ms. Angel and I were talking about some scheduling difficulties.  The children were organizing themselves for Sesame Street  (aka nap time, they doze off about half way through).  I could hear Chaz talking.  I’d been hearing him talking all day — pretty much nonsense — so I had him tuned out.

It slowly penetrated my consciousness that Chaz was saying, “Excuse me,” over and over and over, and sounding more and more impatient with each repetition.  I turned to look at him.  He was sitting up on his mat.  His pillow awaited his head and his blanket covered his legs.  Nobody appeared to be too close to him.  In fact, nobody appeared to be paying him any mind at all.

“Chaz,” I said in my best no nonsense voice, “What is your problem?”

Chaz, still seated, plunked his hands on his hips, jutted out his chin and said, “You is in frond of da T.B.!”

Light dawns.  “Oh! Excuse me!” I say, and move.

Chaz lays back, heaves a heavy sigh and pulls his blanket to his chin. “All bedda now,” he says.

Speaking of Names ….

This post was inspired by Snuppy of Central Snark. My post doesn’t quite align with hers, but if you visit her site I think you will see how one topic lead to the other.


I once worked at an outreach office with a name that had to be enunciated slowly and clearly — Center for New Directions — because if one said it too quickly, especially when answering the phone, one would be greeted with a gasp and a click followed by the dial tone.

On the day I was hired I spoke to my brother on the phone and told him where I was to be working, “Center For NewD irections.” He immediately demanded, “What the hell do you do there?!” I was a bit startled by the vehemence of his response, but having no idea what his ears had heard, I responded truthfully, “Primarily I will teach single mothers how to market their basic skills.”

Needless to say, that didn’t calm him any.