...for a different kind of girl

silent surburban girl releasing her voice, not yet knowing what all she wants to say about her life and the things that make it spin. do you have to be 18 to be here? you'll know when i know.

Sunday, July 08, 2007

'back here at home there's nothin' to do...'

The word "vacation" is rather foreign to me. When I hear other people say it, I notice a gleam in their eye. An excitement that's on par with that of a child on Christmas when they look under their gluttonous holiday tree at every present they could ever have wanted.

My family didn't take vacations when I was growing up. Ever! I know! You're all saying "Aww!" and wishing you could adopt me and give me the childhood I so desperately needed, like I'm one of those poor kids they show on television in the middle of the night. The irony of my stagnant childhood lies in the fact that for a large portion of it, my mother worked for a travel company! So close, and yet so far! Going away to college a mere two hours away was like entering a foreign land where no one would speak my language and swindlers would take me for everything I had.

And because it was Missouri, that's partially true.
However, because Missouri holds a soft spot in my heart (which is more akin to a bruise on a rotting banana than an actual bosom clutching love), it's there that I return for a week every summer to spend time with my sister and her family. Because basically, my sister hounds me every June about when we're all coming and we just give in because she has the ability to track us down and will do so if provoked.
(OK, that part, along with any perceived annoyance I have with the state of Missouri as a whole, is probably a bit exaggerated. But only a bit)

So, because I've built up this little adventure I just enjoyed for the last couple of posts, I figured I'd share a glimpse of what I enjoyed last week with you all. Consider it my "wish you would've been there" postcard, broken down for you in small chunks, because you don't really get a lot of room to write on the back of one of those postcards. According to the map above (notice, btw, that keen ability to match fingernail polish with surroundings also never takes a vacation!), the new Super Walmart is approximately two blocks from "here." Trust me. I know this because I was there six of the eight times visits to the place were made by members of my family. SIX! I live ten minutes from a Walmart and I maybe go there once every three months. Because in all honesty, I'm a dirty Target whore, and if Target had the knock off version of Goldfish crackers I've pawned off on my kids, I'd never set foot in Walmart. Sometimes you just have to take it from someone else to realize how good you got it.

Because you can get almost anything at a Super Walmart, including a beat down in the parking lot by the looks of the security guards foisting their muscle on a shoplifter which we witnessed on visit number one on hour two of the official visit, my sister and I scurried over for the third visit in one day (Day 2, for those of you keeping score) and got manicures and pedicures. Because we're classy. Aside from feeling like my kidneys were being kneaded in preparation for harvesting while seated in the massage chair (honestly, for a time, I thought the staff at the nail place intended to chloroform us and drag our bodies to the back of the shop for some makeshift surgery - because soon, I think you'll be able to have that done at Walmart, too), it was money well spent. Actually, I'd pay to have someone follow me around and rub my feet with lotions every time I sat down. But I'm broke most of the time, so therein lies the real rub.

Come sundown, my sister's lovely home took on the air of a senior citizen's center, and with it came lights out at 10:30 p.m. I'm usually still at work at that time of night, so my body doesn't even begin to shut down until close to 1 a.m. Forced to wind down and stricken from a DSL connection to the outside world, I was compelled to turn my reading away from a computer screen to books. These wacky paper things I used to have more time for. I kicked out three while I was gone, and dove into two more. I'd have probably finished those, too, but as soon as we were loaded in the car to return home, my mom telling me the same stories I heard on the way down. By the second hour, I slipped out one of the remaining books in my cache and started flipping through it to cut her off. If I'm not careful, I'll soon be able to make actual book recommendations to customers when they corner me at the customer service kiosk rather than fumble my way through some half truth before dashing away to the reference section to hide out.

There was so much more to this visit, of course, including fireworks and trips to parks, screaming children, cold beers, and quiet desperation, but in all honesty, I'm of the opinion this is turning into the most boring post I've ever put up here. I'll blame it on the fact that, in spite of my prayers of thanks and gratitude about how truly well behaved they were while at their aunt's, my children reverted back into the rabid animals they are when in their own cave within an hour of our return. I'll also blame some of it on the lingering astonishment of discovering my husband hadn't turned the house into a crack den and allowed squatters to roost while enjoying his four day family reprieve. I was kind of hoping for a ticker tape parade in celebration of my return, but to be frank, I'd barely have noticed if there had been, because I fell out of the car in a dash to the bathroom to relieve the pressure that had been building up in my bladder about the time my mom crossed the bridge leading out of my sister's town and then didn't stop the car again for six hours (and only after sighing loudly, rolling her eyes and asking if I really had to go. Unable to speak, I grunted at the empty 44 ounce cup of Diet Mountain Dew I'd foolishly consumed over the previous five hours and I would've probably cried, but I was afraid releasing tears would have been like some signal to my brain that I should then release all fluids within my body). In case I've not mentioned it before, my mom is bionic and has the technology to remove her actual bladder and insert a titanium holding device she keeps stored in the trunk of her car for these kinds of occasions.
It goes without mention, of course, that despite my little respite, I still have a keen ability to concoct what appears to be the longest and most senseless sentences in the world of blogging. With that record intact, I will now allow you to argue amongst yourselves as to whether this was indeed my most boring post or whether you think I simply need a little hug. While you hash it out, I'll just wait over in the corner, giving myself a refresher on how to say "pop" instead of "soda" when I go to Kum & Go for my giant Diet Mountain Dew I.V.s, dreaming up ways to make this a little more thrilling from here on out now that I've settled in back at home, and assuming you're just going to agree that a hug is what I need because what you really want, even more than a post that says something, is a means to cop a feel of the kick ass rack.
And that right there? That just makes me feel at home.

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Blogger Nanette said...

Ha! Get it? I crack myself up!

I can't believe that the kids can go that long without stopping--did your mother provide pull ups? Next time, you should spring for some depends. :)


Monday, July 09, 2007 4:34:00 AM  
Blogger Nature Girl said...

I'll give you a hug, and I promise not to cop a feel if you don't Unless you really want me to....
I still have a hard time remembering to say soda instead of pop, and everytime I let it slip out, people immediately have to start guessing where I'm from. They always start with Missouri. It cracks me up.

Monday, July 09, 2007 8:35:00 AM  
Blogger Confused Husband said...

Target? You prefer Target over Walmart? UGHHHH!!!! I used to work at Target. I refuse to step foot in another one for the rest of my life. Their sporting goods section sucks! It's all about the hunting and fishing supplies which Wally's has a good selection.

I most definately vots that you need hugs. Just so that I can cop a feel. Not that I've fantasized about your kick ass rack or any thing like that. (shuffling feet)

My family was the opposite of your mom. When we would go on trips we would stop at every rest stop on I5. They are spaced about every 30 miles. Used to drive my dad nuts.

Welcome back!

Monday, July 09, 2007 2:02:00 PM  
Blogger The Savage said...

I'll be nice and not cop a feel....
I will however look you in the eye while talking.. wait....... I have trained my periferal vision to go up and down so I can at least stare at said most magnificent of racks whilst talking to you looking at your eyes...

Monday, July 09, 2007 4:42:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I kind of like Missouri. It's pretty.

Monday, July 09, 2007 5:44:00 PM  
Blogger for a different kind of girl said...

Nanette - I believe that on the rare Friday nights when my mom has kept my boys overnight, she has inserted, Nip/Tuck style, metal bladders into them, as well. They are masters of control. Except during inopportune times. Like dining out. Then we have to go touch the nasty toilets. Apparently, this test is to boost their immune systems.

Stacie - I'll always be a pop girl. My sister was a pop girl her entire life, too, until she crossed the border and then I think the locals ambushed her and brainwashed her and she emerged as a "soda" girl. Sadly, this fact makes me a little crazy.

Confused - I, too, used to work at Target back in the day. I was a "touch key professional" on the register back when nothing was automated and you had to ring up one-handed, sack with the other and make pleasant conversation with the customer. I could rock that 10 percent employee discount like no other, baby! My loyalty will always be to Target.

Now, one summer in college I worked at Menard's and I will mark that moment in history as the worst experience of my life. Don't send a girl with no hardware experience in to do that job. It was painful.

Savage - Training like that could make you a spy or super agent, you know...

Finished - Oh, in all honesty, I've no beef with Missouri as a whole. Though I do question Branson's tactics...

Tuesday, July 10, 2007 8:48:00 AM  
Blogger Confused Husband said...

What is Menards?

I was a stocker at Taget. Had to start at 4:00 in the bloody AM! Then unload a truck and stock the shelves. The good thing about the job was that I was done and out of there before the store opened. Therefore I didn't have to deal with customers.

Non automated checkstands. Make me think of the old days at Costco. That was when each checkstand had two people there. One to type in the item numbers and one to call the item numbers out as they took the stuff out of your buggy.

frhxomo WTH?!

Tuesday, July 10, 2007 9:47:00 AM  
Blogger FTN said...

As a manly man, I don't do hugs.

I will say, however, that your pea-green nail polish is making me a bit queasy.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007 11:13:00 AM  
Blogger for a different kind of girl said...

Confused - Menards is a large scale hardware/home improvement store, akin to Lowe's or Home Depot.

No job, however, tops the summer in college when I worked at a cinnamon roll shop. That place rocked!

FTN - Manly men say they don't do hugs, but then I sometimes catch them high fiving and slapping other men on the ass, so what's up with that?!

And that green? It's "apple sherbet"

Tuesday, July 10, 2007 3:27:00 PM  
Blogger Therese in Heaven said...

Its really impossible to bore me with a post that mentions manicures, pedicures, and has a photo.

Oh, and the very first time I painted my nails back when I was sixteen (yeah, I started late), the color I chose was a bright green.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007 3:57:00 PM  
Blogger for a different kind of girl said...

Therese - Would I add to your nice words even more if I mentioned that I picked up a few hair care produts as well!?

Or that I think it wasn't all that long ago that I tossed my hot pinks and other assorted neon nail colors...

Tuesday, July 10, 2007 11:55:00 PM  
Blogger Therese in Heaven said...

Toss out your hot pinks?!! Why ever for?

I'm all for bold eye makeup too...

Wednesday, July 11, 2007 2:05:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Look at those fancy feetsies, well done. Menards too is a new one as well.

Thursday, July 12, 2007 12:16:00 AM  
Blogger for a different kind of girl said...

Therese - It was purely an issue of putting down the polishes that were well past their prime. As for the bold eye makeup thing...I can't seem to accomplish it. I tend to shift toward something smokey, and even that's not so easy for me!

Nocturnal - The fancy toes wave at you. Not from Menard's though, which I didn't realize must be a rather regional thing. I just cringed a bit typing it again. I truly hated working there.

Thursday, July 12, 2007 8:23:00 AM  

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