Believe it or not, apparently you can learn things as the direct result of a routine craft-shopping excursion. And I'm all about shopping misadventures, don'tcha know. (Be sure to check out one of my favorite shopping posts, Adventures in Shopping with Goobs.)
Anyhoots, as I ventured off to the big city yesterday (a.k.a. Fort Wayne, Indiana), approximately 50 miles southwest of my humble abode in NW Ohio, little did I know it would turn out to be such a lesson-filled day. But learn, I did. And like it or not I'm here to share my new found knowledge with all of you. So here goes.
- I have the power of invisibility. No, for real. I do. While standing in front of the magazine rack at JoAnn Fabrics, I backed up a wee bit to allow my field of vision to take in all the magazines on the lower shelves. I mean, it's not possible to see all of the magazines unless you do that, so I did. And in the process I was occasionally bending over to get a better view than my aging eyes would allow me while standing completely erect. [OK, I admit it, I was determined to include the word erect in my blog post today. 2 points for succeeding. Minus 3 points for getting a juvenile yet jovial chuckle while typing that word.] And as I was standing there perusing the titles, two other women walked over and stopped right in front of me to look at the magazines as well. For a second I thought that it was just a momentary pause on their part as they perhaps were looking for the nearest checkout line. But, um, no. They were going to stand there, about 12 inches in front of me, and just look at the magazines, completely obliterating my view. So that's when I realized that yeah, I have the power of invisibility.
- I don't have the power of subtlety. If I had that power, then I would have just politely said, "excuse me" to the ladies who blocked my view of the magazines, rather than walking away in a huff and muttering something about the rudeness of craft-shopping-magazine-Nazis.
- Crying babies are a staple at every craft store. I was in 3 craft stores yesterday and there was a crying baby in every one. And I don't mean a sweetly soft crying baby; we're talking top-of-the-lungs-bloody-murder-is-this-a-hidden-camera-show-crying-baby, which, if I wasn't already a mother and well-prepared for the sound-barrier-breaking volume that crying babies are capable of, would have scared me straight out of ever wanting to become one.
- 70-year-old women should not wear Daisy Dukes. On my way home from craft shopping, I spied with my little eye an older woman, who was very thin and with skin having the appearance of a well-worn leather chair, wearing skin-tight, black and white striped, fraying Daisy Dukes. And no, I am not kidding! If only I'd been at a stoplight when I saw her walking by, because I would have whipped out my cell phone and snagged the photographic evidence to post for your enjoyment, or disgust, as the case may be. But since that image is forever etched into my memory, I thought it only fair to show you something. So I found the following image on Google that will help to illustrate the horror I felt in that truly unforgettable Daisy Dukes geriatric moment. One does not have to be Joan Rivers to realize that some fashion statements should never be made. Oy.
- And finally, I also learned something very, very important at the end of my craft-shopping-lesson-filled-adventure. And that is, Taco Bell food should never be eaten while driving. And I think their drive-thru should come with a disclaimer: You Eat It, You Wear It.
