This happens here.
There is a vintage bridal shop located a little ways down from our place. Its a little store front filled with many beautiful and elegant vintage bridal gowns. This boutique is every girls' dream. These dresses are transformed by a seamstress named Miranda, who owns the shop, and turns out to be one of the sweetest and most darling friends I have made in this new place.
That being said, I think someone is out to get her.
Just the other night, already past dark, she closed up shop and went to her car. A brief moment before she turned the door key, she saw a bright light getting closer. Some could say she was saved by a thread. It collided head-on into her car, and then drove off.
It was a fancy new car, driven by a fancy young woman. Upon deliberation, I have concluded that this is no accident. Someone is out to get Miranda.
A bridezilla.
A maid-of-honor from hell.
A threatened competitor.
A psychotic maniac.
Regardless, it has now become a dangerous world for this sweet sweet shopkeeper. In due time, justice will be served, and the perp wont look so good in lace satin doilies.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Friday, July 13, 2012
On the Loose Again
You already know little Johnny. He is a "redheaded boy of 4, shirtless, too skinny to keep his pants up." A broken chain with each new day, and incredibly unsupervised. I saw him again just the other day, on a walk with my husband; he was on the loose. This time he was free riding on a scooter.
Goodbye freckle-faced smile. Hello angry mother who is stuck at the other side of the red light, screaming from the passenger's seat.
When she realized a crowd had gathered, her demeanor changed. "Hi little Johnny, where have you been?" she comes near and crouches at eye level.
"I-I-I-" Little Johnny has a stutter.
The story comes out. He has escaped from day camp, all are looking for him. How can you blame him?
Goodbye freckle-faced smile. Hello angry mother who is stuck at the other side of the red light, screaming from the passenger's seat.
When she realized a crowd had gathered, her demeanor changed. "Hi little Johnny, where have you been?" she comes near and crouches at eye level.
"I-I-I-" Little Johnny has a stutter.
The story comes out. He has escaped from day camp, all are looking for him. How can you blame him?
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Schwinn/ Lose Situation
Last weekend I joined a bicycle gang. I rolled with the toughest thugs around: my husband, my sister, and her husband. On our old school schwinns.... we ran this town.
Hassling those who owe us money and have done us wrong [namely Mitch]
Stealing from innocent shopkeepers [a local shop was giving away free ice cream]
Buying gangster attire [went vintage thrift shopping]
Sharing strategy on thug-like behavior [stayed up late talking, laughing, looking at wedding pictures].
Then fate caused us to disperse. Half of us are here all alone. The other half of our gang is currently driving to the other end of the country, ready to tear apart bears with their own hands, ready to find a new town to run. I cant say I'm pleased, but there are two schwinns here eagerly awaiting another visit.
Hassling those who owe us money and have done us wrong [namely Mitch]
Stealing from innocent shopkeepers [a local shop was giving away free ice cream]
Buying gangster attire [went vintage thrift shopping]
Sharing strategy on thug-like behavior [stayed up late talking, laughing, looking at wedding pictures].
Then fate caused us to disperse. Half of us are here all alone. The other half of our gang is currently driving to the other end of the country, ready to tear apart bears with their own hands, ready to find a new town to run. I cant say I'm pleased, but there are two schwinns here eagerly awaiting another visit.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
These Are the Trials of a Housewife.
I am currently confined indoors. I had to close my windows, and I think there is a tornado going by. So for now I will blog about being a housewife, in hopes that it will soon clear; I want to go to the farmers market.
While adjusting the ice in a peach smoothie, my spatula shattered. Plastic peppered the fruity goodness, and we had to spit out the bigger chunks. There was spatula delight in every sip. This adventure ended with my husband attempting to glue the pieces back together.
While lighting a candle to burn the onion fumes, I set it on our coffee pot and walk away. A while later wax had melted down and into every crevice of this coffee maker. It was temporarily unfunctional, until this morning, when I decided to bake it in the oven. This fresh baked coffee maker now makes coffee again, but the joe tastes like parafin.
In a head to head encounter with homemade pastry dough, I lost a battle. I was having friends for breakfast at 10 am sharp. When they got to the door, my hair nor my clothes were ready to be seen by the public, not even dear friends. Flour covered every inch of counter space, and the floor as well. That was a mess.
In a recent attempt to surprise my husband, I painted the bathroom a beautiful shade of charcoal. Our ceilings are an upwards of 14 feet high; they are unreachable. So I planted the ladder in the shower and held onto the curtain rod to keep my balance. Well, the rod is not as strong as I first thought, and let me just say that it is only by the grace of God that I am still alive to tell this story.
This tornado may have just turned into a hurricane. It looks like its going to be a long morning. Its time to pull out the french press, hem trousers, and read Little Women. Although childish in nature, this sweet novel teaches about the joys of mundane tasks.
While adjusting the ice in a peach smoothie, my spatula shattered. Plastic peppered the fruity goodness, and we had to spit out the bigger chunks. There was spatula delight in every sip. This adventure ended with my husband attempting to glue the pieces back together.
While lighting a candle to burn the onion fumes, I set it on our coffee pot and walk away. A while later wax had melted down and into every crevice of this coffee maker. It was temporarily unfunctional, until this morning, when I decided to bake it in the oven. This fresh baked coffee maker now makes coffee again, but the joe tastes like parafin.
In a head to head encounter with homemade pastry dough, I lost a battle. I was having friends for breakfast at 10 am sharp. When they got to the door, my hair nor my clothes were ready to be seen by the public, not even dear friends. Flour covered every inch of counter space, and the floor as well. That was a mess.
In a recent attempt to surprise my husband, I painted the bathroom a beautiful shade of charcoal. Our ceilings are an upwards of 14 feet high; they are unreachable. So I planted the ladder in the shower and held onto the curtain rod to keep my balance. Well, the rod is not as strong as I first thought, and let me just say that it is only by the grace of God that I am still alive to tell this story.
This tornado may have just turned into a hurricane. It looks like its going to be a long morning. Its time to pull out the french press, hem trousers, and read Little Women. Although childish in nature, this sweet novel teaches about the joys of mundane tasks.
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