Fall is almost upon us—one more day if memory serves—and with fall comes the inevitable…high school football games and homecoming dances.
I took the girls shopping today to search for homecoming dresses. Lauren is taking Alexa as her “date” to the dance, and now that the girls have effectively “made up” from their last row, how could I decline them the benefit of another new dress for another homecoming dance?
They promised to stay within the budget, so off to the mall we went.
I can’t remember the last time I had set foot in the mall, and I had completely forgotten why I hate to go there. As I walked down the main concourse from one end of the mall to the other, I was repeatedly accosted by kiosk zombies thirsting for my attention, starving for my presence, and hungering for my business. The first zombie was at a mineral eye shadow kiosk…one that I’ve shopped at many times before, so I already own every shade that I would even remotely wear (and I few that I never will). First there was a woman, thrusting her hand toward me with an informational card that she was determined for me to take from her. When I refused, she skulked off and a man took her place, trying to convince me that I looked a bit peaked today and could use some brightening up. He was more than willing to do the brightening with his expensive mineral eye shadows! I quickly focused my attention on my phone, forcing myself to pull eye contact away from him, and scurried off.
I didn’t get far.
I was still clicking through the screens on my phone when I heard someone go, “Psssstt.”
I looked up to see a man holding a tray of what looked like wrapped homemade candies. This was too cliché for words… “Want some candy little girl?” He didn’t say it, but it was in his eyes. “For you.” Is what he did say, in what sounded like an Italian accent. He tried to hand me one of the wrapped squares. I couldn’t help myself…I put my hand out to take the item before asking, “What is it?”
Mineral soap sample.
He had me. That stupid little soap was like a live worm on a hook, and I had bitten.
He dragged me (hardly kicking and screaming or anything) into the little shop off the concourse and asked me about wrinkles. We agreed that we both hated wrinkles. Who doesn’t? And he proceeded to exfoliate the skin on my hands while I was oblivious to the impending sales pitch. “Doesn’t that feel so much softer? Wouldn’t you feel so much younger? Don’t you deserve something this luxurious?”
They know exactly how to reel you in, don’t they? Of course, my skin felt softer. He had just put cream on it. Of course, I wanted to look as young as possible for as long as possible. I can’t imagine anyone over the age of twenty-one saying they want to look any older. Of course, I deserve it! Yes! I want a bottle of that miracle cream. Wrap it up. How much is it?
Seventy-eight dollars???? Are you serious?
Phone in hand, I scurried out of that shop as quickly as I could without looking back—without collecting my free mineral soap sample. I wasn’t about to go back and get it.
I wasn’t about to get pulled into another kiosk or little shop again.
I plopped down into a comfortable lounge chair in one of the cozy rest areas in the main mall courtyard and pulled out my still fully charged cell phone…excuse me, “cell phone” is an insult to this extraordinary device. Today it was playing the part of a television as I watched a movie while I hid. Talking is one of the lesser used features on my new HTC EVO android smart phone.
And no…Sprint did not pay me to advertise their product. I am doing this for free.
I am in love with my new phone. It does everything. I can surf the internet with the speed and convenience of a tiny laptop. I can take pictures with the quality of an expensive camera. I have GPS navigation that rivals any of the navigation units I’ve seen in action. I can listen to music and watch movies. I can send and receive my email, my Facebook and Twitter, text messages, IMs…and yes I can even talk.
I think it might even load my dishwasher.
I am having an illicit affair with my “cell phone”, and my husband is only jealous that he doesn’t have a phone like mine. But it can’t do everything. It can’t drive the car to pick up the newly recuperated ninja kitty, Henry Chow.
Henry Chow has been spending the past several days as a guest at the spa (the vet) having his wounds tended to. He is mostly healed, and was able to come home today. He was cleaned from head to foot, and shaved like a poodle to reach his injuries. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the constant attention. And like all good ninja kitties, he managed to engage his hosts so entirely that when I went to pick him up, they were all using the same Chinese accent when speaking to him that we use in our house. There is just something about Henry Chow that makes you want to speak his language. He is Himalayan after all!
So as I settle in for the night, I am satisfied with my Monday. I survived a trip to the mall, and found both girls suitable dresses in a single trip! I discovered a multitude of new functions on my new phone whilst I hid out from zombies and other assorted mall creepers, (and I’m sure there are countless others that I have yet to unearth…have I mentioned how much I love my phone?) And I retrieved the ninja kitty from his spa vacation at the vet. Could the day have possibly been any better? Oh did I mention I had really good wings for dinner too?
Nothing like perfection on a Monday…
Until the next time…I’ll have very high hopes for Tuesday…I may even play the lottery!