I have a sweater. Actually, I have several sweaters, but we only need to discuss one today. The red one.
The red one's nice- I bought it to wear at AJ's graduation weekend in November. It's got this deep v-neck- ridiculously deep. As much as AJ would LOVE to see me wear it without something underneath, it needs a camisole or something. I HAD a camisole- it went missing when we moved. It's just not anywhere.
I was looking at them (camisoles) at the mall the other day- same chain as where I got the sweater, in fact. I found some- nice enough, plain, spagheiit straps, lace at the top. Twenty bucks.
I'm too used to buying my clothes at Value Village, I guess. Twenty bucks just seemed like a lot for a scrap of thin fabric and some lace. My theory is that it's the lace. It's probably hand-made out of unicorn hair, high in the Himalayas by two blind nuns whose home is only accessable by helicopter and then dogsled. They support an orphanage using only the proceeds from their lace-making. God bless them! *sniffle!*
You thought that story was going somewhere, didn't you? Sorry 'bout that.
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Is was standing in the grocery store last night, perusing the "feminine hygeine" section, and was completely baffled by the selection available- and this was a small store. It's no wonder guys hate being asked to buy this stuff- not only is it embarrassing for them, it's hard to remember whether she wanted the "36-pack regular unscented long pantiliner with wings decaf non-fat" or the "28-pack regular unscented long mini light pad without wings thong-shaped with an extra shot of espresso."
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Congratulations are in order. Simon followed Andre to the bathroom a few nights ago, watched him pee, patted him on the leg and said, "Yay, Daddy! You a BIG boy!"
He later claimed that "Simon a big boy, too!" but refuses to prove it by using the potty.
The good news is that he walked in on me in the bathroom yesterday, and apparently I'm a big boy, too. At last!