All I Want for Christmas is a Pink Daisy Red Ryder

"You'll Shoot Your Eye Out Kid..." ~ A Christmas Story

On a recent visit to Walmart (I love Walmart.  Where else can you get a new car battery, razors for the swimmer, bananas, toilet paper and craft supplies all in the same store?) I discovered my Christmas Wish:
A pink Daisy Red Ryder BB Gun.  Anything pink generally catches my eye, but a pink Daisy Red Ryder? Oh man, that stopped me in my tracks.  At first, I thought about it for 8 year old Sparkles, but quickly realized putting a weapon, even a BB gun, into Sparkle's hands was a recipe for disaster, exceeded only by the idea of putting weapons into Sparkle's, Buttercup's AND TBone's hands - we'd have an all out war in our backyard where someone would have their eye shot out in about 30 seconds.  But, to pass on such a glorious item as a PINK(!) Daisy Red Ryder seemed almost as crazy as giving it to one of my wild monster children.

I stood in the middle of the aisle, gazing longingly at the powder pink gun, imagining myself ripping into the present (wrapped lovingly by me in the wee hours of Christmas Eve), finally revealing the BEST. CHRISTMAS. GIFT. EVER.  My revere went something like this:

Kids: What'd Santa bring you mom?  Let us see!
Me: It's a PINK Daisy Red Ryder BB Gun!  I'm so excited!
Kids: Wow! You are so lucky! Better watch out: You'll shoot your eye out, kid! (A Christmas Story is a family favorite any time of the year.)
Me: I'm going to take it outside RIGHT NOW! Maybe there's a squirrel that needs shooting? (PETA: don't come after me, I'm not that good of a shot, and those squirrels are fast. Just ask the hyper Huxley and geriatric Bella dogs.)
Donning my Grandpa's old down-filled coat (a puffy jacket he owned before they were even cool!), my old Ugg boots over my hot-pink camo fleece pajama bottoms and tossing my pink plaid "Elmer Fudd" hat on my head, I troop out the door, my pink Daisy Red Ryder in my hand.  Plopping down on the bench on our front step, I lovingly caress it's pretty pinkness as the next-door neighbor steps outside to fix a dangling Christmas light.  I smile and wave the pretty pink gun at her.
Me: Look what Santa brought me for Christmas! Isn't it lovely!  What, wait, where are you going? 
My neighbor dashes back into the house.
Me: It's not that cold out here. I wonder what's wrong with her? Her California blood must still be too thin for 25 degree temps.
I happily sit for a few more minutes, my unloaded gun in my lap, enjoying the early Christmas morning, when suddenly, a city police car slowly drives past my house and then backs up and pulls into my driveway.
Me (Grinning like a fool): I wonder if it's one of our cop friends, stopping by to wish me a Merry Christmas and admire my new pink Daisy Red Ryder?
Police Officer: Morning, Ma'am.
Me: Merry Christmas, Officer! (Fortunately, I hadn't delved into my Christmas morning bloody Mary causing me to call him "Occifer" instead...)
Police Officer: What's that in your hand? We had a report of someone brandishing a firearm in this neighborhood. Is it loaded?
Me (holding up my new pink Daisy Red Ryder BB gun, causing the officer to duck): This is my Christmas present.  Isn't it lovely?
Police Officer: Yes ma'am, it's nice.  You didn't happen to wave it at anyone this morning, did you? Such as a neighbor? (Nods his head in the direction of my neighbor's house where a slight movement of their drapes reveals that they're intently watching the exchange.)
Me: Oh no sir. I wouldn't brandish my new BB GUN at anyone.  I was simply enjoying the morning. It's not even loaded.
Police Officer: We were told that there was a person brandishing a large gun in this neighborhood, making threats to her neighbors.  Are you sure that wasn't you? I might have to charge you with "terroristic threats."
Me (snorting back a laugh): Sir, you do realize that the people in that house who are currently cowering behind their curtains while watching you and I chat are the same people who were afraid that birdshot would suddenly be able to travel over a mile and go through their 6 foot wooden privacy fence and kill them, right?  I assure you, I have not brandished my "weapon" at them in any way.  The wife came outside as I was sitting here with my Christmas present, that isn't even loaded with the BBs it requires, at which point, I waved "Hello" and wished her a Merry Christmas.  I can only assume that she dashed back into her house and called you with the speed of Santa's seven reindeer.
Police Officer (smiling): Ok, I just had to check.  Be careful with that thing: You'll shoot your eye out...

(The only thing better than my neighbor freaking out over an unloaded BB gun would be reading about it in my local paper's "Police Report" section the next week.)

Update: Hubby heard me talking about the PINK Daisy Red Ryder and took it upon himself to buy FIVE of them for Christmas.  Not five pink guns, 3 pink and 2 regular brown fake wood.  His idea was that three kids, himself & I all needed these cool guns for when we go up north to our friends' cabin.  I convinced him that 5 of these guns were not necessary and took them, the BBs and targets he also purchased back to Walmart yesterday.  My fear of the neighbors calling the police when Sparkles is spotted wielding a pink BB gun over-rode the entertainment caused by the looks on their faces when they realized we had given her and Buttercup each weapons.  (Even though Hubby said he'd hide the guns except for when we went up north, knowing that these are the same children who kept disappearing to friends' homes 6-7 blocks away no matter what the consequences - until Hubby took the front wheels off all the bikes - gives me faith that they'd probably find the guns' hidey-spot and if they didn't succeed in shooting out their own eyes I doubt the neighbors' kid would be safe.)

How to Fail a Job Interview

Have you ever been slogging through a week from hell and suddenly realize "OMG, it's Thursday?"  That would be be me this week.  It's probably because of the fact that the kids didn't have school on Monday that I'm all discombobulated and confused about what day we're on today.  That type of thing always throws me off.

Monday was quite the day of ups and downs.  The weather totally sucked: cloudy gray sky spitting icy mist, not a glimpse of the sun all day, temperatures in the mid-40s; just an ugly day.  I was out and about that day, actually dressed up in the only pair of black pants that currently fit, a pretty pink sweater, my pearls and black butter-soft leather jacket.  Not my usual attire by any means (currently it is almost 11am and I am still in my hot pink/camo fleece pajama pants and slippers), but it seemed appropriate since I was going to my first job interview in years.  The job I for which I was interviewing was described as:

"Elderly Companion Care: services include light housekeeping, meal preparation, hygiene assistance, errands and shopping and companionship."

I was a little worried about what "Hygiene Assistance" meant, but upon further research, I decided that maybe it didn't include baths and help with other very personal hygienic assistance (a girl can hope, right?).  I was pretty excited when I received the call to go in for the interview, so when the time came, I spiffed myself up and headed out in the wintry weather, wearing the most awful boots known to mankind. (These boots made me realize that, yes, when my butt expands in size, so do my ankles, a phenomenon previously unknown to me.)  Upon arriving at the nondescript little office, I was given a stack of paperwork to fill out and promptly realized that I couldn't remember the name of the position for which I was applying, (thank God for good friends and their smart phones!) and was very thankful that I had brought along my updated resume` since without it, I'd probably still be there today, filling out the "previous employment" section of the application.  About thirty minutes later, after checking box after box relating to my "experience" working with the elderly, (honestly, people, are you sure I can't count raising four children as "experience"? How much different is it really dealing with a two-year-old or an elderly person's temper tantrum? Not much.) I was called back for my interview, which, in my mind, went something like this:

Prospective Employer: (looking at my resume`) Wow! You've been a busy girl.
Me: That's because I'm 39 years old and have had to change careers a few times. I'm experienced.
PE: I see that you've participated in the Breast Cancer 3 Day; how many times?
Me: Can't you read? It says right there: 2008/2010 - that'd be twice.
PE: I don't know much about it but I've heard it's hard.
Me: If you don't mind begging people for $2300 for the pleasure of walking 60 miles in three days in the middle of a Minnesota August and getting blisters on top of your blisters, sleeping in a pink tent and crying a lot, it's great.
(Fast-forward a little)
PE: So, these hours you have here, 9:30-3:00pm, Monday through Friday, are these the hours you are available to work or the hours you would like to work?
Me: Is there a difference?
PE: Well, we can't guarantee a set number of hours each week, but we do pay $11/hour, so...
Me: Those are the times in which I am available to work.  I need to be home in time to meet my little girls off the bus after school and be able to get my son from his hockey practices.
PE: We also require that you are available to work every other weekend.  Is that a problem?
Me: Do you see me available to work on the weekend days? On that form? Right there in your hand? That you made me fill out?
PE: No.
Me: So yes, that is a problem. My husband works out of town a lot. We have four children. When he's gone, I'm a single-parent.
PE: It's just that everybody would like to have Sat/Sun off now and then.
Me: So hire people who CAN work weekends whenever it is necessary. Because I can't.
PE: We don't always have work for you on the weekends, we just want you to be available to work every other weekend.
Me: So I'm supposed to "be on call" every other weekend because you may or may not have work for me to do? So I may or may not be able to go to my kids' sports activities or may or may not be able to spend time with my husband who may or may not be home that weekend?  Is that what you're saying?
PE: Well, yes.  Because every one wants to be able to be off on Sat/Sun sometimes....
(Fast Forward....)
PE: Ok, another question:  Sometimes you may be assigned to people who live vastly different lifestyles and have much different beliefs/values than you have.  How would you handle it if you were on assignment and your client expressed a belief that was different than the way you believe?
Me: Well, first of all, I would have them clarify their point of view.  Then I would break their opinion down point by point, citing recent articles/research, etc. that back up my opinion on the matter.  After verbally beating them until they were intellectually battered and bloody, if they still didn't see it my way, I would then verbally abuse them with clever and humorous name-calling and sarcasm until they cried.
PE: Ooookay...Do you have any questions?
Me: Would I be required to help with personal care? Like would I be required to give baths?  I have no experience and/or training in such activities.
PE: We will train you and certify you as a Home Health Aide.  So, yes, you will be able to give baths.
Me: Ok, thank you so much for your time. (Picks up coat, and goes SCREAMING OUT OF THE OFFICE: "No wiping butts! No baths! I don't even like seeing myself naked! Gaaaaah!")

Imagine my surprise that when the phone rang yesterday, the name of the company was on my caller ID.  I wasn't brave enough to answer the call nor have I called them back yet, either.

Onward and Upward my friends!

** I returned the company's call.  They were calling to ask me to complete a "mantle" (I'm really not sure what that is other than what we hang Christmas stockings on over the fireplace), so they could have me complete an Orientation next weekend.  Which brought up the fact that I can't (and WON'T) work weekends.  At which point their job offer was rescinded.  Oh well. No wrinkly bottoms for me to worry about (except my own) now. Alls well that ends well (heeheehee!).