Sunday, October 25, 2009

If the Shoe Fits

I was shopping for a new outfit to wear to the airport to pick up my husband from his 18 month deployment to Iraq. I needed the perfect outfit and it was not going to be an easy task. I took along my favorite shopping companion Nick for mission, “Make me look HOT because I have not seen my husband in 7 months”, perfect outfit extravaganza.

We spent all day shopping from store to store… Nordstrom then Banana Republic on to Anne Taylor followed by Black House White Market and every store in between. The economy was great and my budget was unlimited. Could I really put a price on my looks for such an occasion? Obviously not! We purchased everything from earrings to jeans, hair accessories to shoes.

I was in the dressing room of one of the stores with one of everything available in my size. I’m trying on clothes and watching the piles of Have To Have, Maybe So and Absolutely Not’s grow taller than me. Clothes are flying in every direction as I plow through the clothes folded and hanging.

Before I know it Nick is knocking on the dressing room door. I NEED you now, he says.

Just two more minutes and I’ll be dressed and I can come out, I reply.

HURRY! You HAVE to see this he says.

I finally open the door and he is standing there with his mouth wide open and his eyes as big as the moon, he is holding up a high heeled shoe.

I look at him with question in my eye wondering why it was so urgent for me to hurry. Is he in love with the shoe and wants me to try it on? Does he think it’s the most hideous thing he’s ever seen? It’s hard to read his face on this one.
“I pity the woman who wears a shoe this size!” he gasps.

I smile and take the shoe… I look at the size… and notice the same size I wear! That is right… this CLOWN sized shoe in Nicks mind is simply a dainty size 10 in my world. Its hard to find a cute shoe in a size 10.. I know because I’ve been looking for years!!!

Without telling Nick this information I take the shoe and proceed to put it on my foot.

Nick’s jaw literally hits the floor. He is completely and utterly speechless, which for him is a rare occasion.

We both started laughing so hard we began to cry.

If the shoe fits, wear it!

Monday, October 12, 2009

An Unfortunate Event

My fiancé was in Iraq. It was 12 months before our wedding day, I was counting down the days until I could officially start writing Mrs. Joseph Moss on every sheet of paper that crossed my desk. Secretly I was practicing writing it on every scratch paper or post it note in site. I decided that it would be a good idea to take a second job, one night a week, to save for the fairytale wedding I envisioned in my head.

My best friend/roommate, Kate, was working as a manager for a residential living program for the elderly disabled. I was a shoe in for the job and was instantly hired after an “Intense” interview. The greatest part of the job was it was one day a week from 5 - 9 pm and I worked my shift with Kate. Four hours a week, hanging out with my best friend, and making a little extra cash seemed like a brilliant idea… and most days it was exactly that!

The women we worked with were incredible! They were two elderly women, Martha was mean as the dickens and would hit you with her cane if she thought you were getting “out of line”, Lucy, was the sweetest, toothless, bug eyed wearing glasses woman you had ever met who walked around with a walker with a horn on it. It was not just a job being able to hang out with these women it was an honor and delight. I was absolutely in love with these ladies.

We shared stories and dinners and would take long car rides. We’d watch movies and paint our nails. Every week we’d make a meal plan and head to the grocery store to stock the fridge and shelves with the ingredients to create meals that were fit for queens.

One particular Wednesday evening we headed down our local grocery store, Harmon’s. I decided to let my friend be chauffer for the evening and left my car safe and sound in the apartment parking lot… that may have been the best decision of my night.
We arrived at the store and Martha decided that she better take an electric wheel chair around the store, after all her knee had been bothering her. The only problem was she had NEVER driven anything with wheels. She was more dangerous sitting in this Jazzy Scooter than I ever thought could have been possible. She was running into end caps with every jerk of the wheel, knocking fruit off the produce tables and sending display racks tumbling to the ground.

As I was about to go and convince her that I thought she should walk instead of drive this new found death on wheels, I noticed her going FULL SPEED about to hit an innocent old man who was bagging his tomatoes with his back turned to us. I kick my feet into full gear and run faster than an Olympic medalist to try to save this innocent produce bagging citizen. By the grace on high I somehow make it in the nick of time to stop the wheel chair with my body and saving that man from being crushed to his death. I’m sure he’s very thankful for my heroic acts. After a good 5 minutes of arguing with Martha and being struck by her cane more than seven times we come to a compromise. She could ride in the chair as long as I was the one who got to operate it. This compromise very well may have saved the life of many that day.
Over the next hour we continued throughout the store filling our carts, moving as fast as Lucy’s walker would allow. Every isle is walked gathering up the finest ingredients that Harmon’s could offer. When we had gathered everything on our list and more we head to the checkout stand.

Lucy heads up to the front, standing up by the bagger batting her eyes being her most charming self. Martha begins digging in her purse pulling out very curious items for me to hold with the only task in mind of finding her check book so she can pay. Kate is chatting with Lucy and the bagger about the feast that we’re heading home to make.

Out of nowhere the most awful, horrendous, smell you’ve ever smelled reached up and slapped me in the face. My hands were loaded full of items from Martha’s purse and I was juggling each items as it was to me. I had no time or sense to find that smell. I was only allowed to take no notice for just a few moments time when Kate says “Oh no, it’s one of ours!” That caught my attention faster than a lightning strike! I looked around and begin to panic. What do you mean its one of ours? What on earth could that smell be? This can’t be happening!!!

Sweet little Lucy is standing looking down at her feet as she is standing in a puddle of yuck. Martha promptly chimes in “Lucy, watch out, move out of the way, a dog must have just come in here and shit on the floor by your feet”. Yep! You guessed it…our poor sweet Lucy is standing in a large mess of diarrhea, but not a dogs diarrhea, it’s her very own!! It is EVERYWHERE! I turned my head to laugh.. I did not know what else to do. It was either laugh or cry at this point. No turning back now. And someone was going to have to clean this mess up. I was praying that it would not be me.

Kate very professionally apologizes to the checker who calls over the manager. The Manager says he will have someone clean it up for up. I am praising almighty when I hear Kate refuse the offer. What?!? Why on earth would she refuse such a sweet gift! ? She orders me to take Lucy to the bathroom so she can attend to the mess that’s been created. She refuses to allow someone from the grocery store clean up. They definitely did not sign up for poop duty. We, on the other hand, knew in our job description that things like this can happen on occasion. It must have been in the small print of my contract because I don’t remember signing on for any situation of the sort! She is a much better person than I could ever imagine being, and after this I’m not sure I ever want to be like her!

I point to the ladies room, which just happens to be at the opposite end of the store; Lucy begins to walk the green mile. I’m right behind her armed with a pair of rubber gloves and a roll of paper towels. With each step forward a trail of liquid follows. I’m wiping up the floor behind her one step at a time. Walk and wipe. My face is red. Walk and wipe. Brighter red. Walk and wipe. Beat red. Will we ever make it to the bathroom? Walk and wipe. No use in crying. Walk and wipe. I can barely hold back my laughter. It looked as if it were forty three miles away.
We finally arrived to the bathroom after what seemed like 3 hours, and that very well may not be a bit of an exaggeration.

I send Lucy in to the stall to finish her business. Sooner than I would have hoped she asks me to come in. I’m praying that Kate will walk in at that very moment to rescue me. No Luck. I pause for a minute longer before she is asking for me again. I brace for impact and go in. I find Lucy’s red stretch pants on the ground full of crap.. Literally full of crap. Besides regretting ever thinking a second job was a good idea and dry heaving, what on earth am I going to do?!? Then visions begin to fill my head and not of sugarplums dancing. How am I ever going to clean this mess up? What is she going to wear to leave the store? How are we ever going to show our faces at this Harmon’s again?

Right then Kate walks in. My prayers have been answered. She is my saving grace. I quickly leave the stall. Kate and I exchange smiles and silent giggles wondering how on earth we got ourselves into this mess. I quickly remind her that as she is the manager she makes $3 more an hour than I do and that I will be at her beacon call to assist with whatever she needs from afar!

Kate is amazingly brilliant and caring. She knows how to handle ever situation without making anyone feel awkward or uncomfortable. She’s already come up with a plan before she had even walked in the door, she is amazing like that. She first sends me and Martha to go purchase some baby wipes to aide in the clean up process. We find them, purchase them and head back to the bathroom. Hand the goods over to Kjirsten and are sent on our next task to go find some underwear.

We are at the grocery store so intimates are in slim supply – not to mention we need to get a plus size pair, 28 women’s. After much searching I find a pair of men’s size 36 briefs. I knew this was too small for sweet Lucy, but it was our only option. We’d have to make do with what was offered. We purchase the briefs and head back into the bathroom. Kate comes out and I quietly show her what we’ve found. She looks at me wide eyed with the look of “how on earth will we ever get these over Lucy’s buns?” Without saying a word she goes back into the stall armed with the briefs knowing that I did all that I could. She literally had to fold Lucy’s rolls into the underwear to make them fit, it must have been force, but they were on, very snugly.

She calls out with her third order of garbage bags. Garbage bags? What on earth do you need garbage bags for? I ask. We’re making a skirt for Lucy so we can get her to the car without utter embarrassment. I leave the bathroom and burst into laughter. I’m not sure if it’s more embarrassing to walk out in tighty whities or a garbage bag. I feel terrible that Lucy has to go through this. I feel terrible for Kate for having to clean up the mess. And I feel terrible for the employees of the grocery store for all we’ve put them through.

I find the Hefty bags, go back through the line to purchase them. This time the manager comes over. He says “Just take them, actually just take anything that you need. You don’t need to buy anything else, if you think of something you need just take it”. I thank him profusely for his help and apologize for the inconvenience of this situation. He tells me if I give him the keys to our car he will get our groceries loaded so we can leave when we are ready. I agree, as we all wanted to be out of there as quickly as possible and not drag this situation out any longer.
I go to the bathroom, hand over the garbage bags and within minutes Lucy walks out in the most lovely black skirt I have ever seen. Kate walks out with a hefty bag of poopie clothes. We load up and head home.

Lucy tells us that it must have been the rice. She told us that day she was allergic to rice but ate it anyway when it was cooked for her to not make anyone feel bad.

We threw out the rice when we got home to assure that would never happen again. Later that night Kate washed those red poopie stretch pants, they were Lucy’s favorite after all. I thanked the maker above that I chose not to drive that day. And I asked myself if a second job was really worth it. But it was. I still love those ladies and I now have a story that will be with me forever.