It’s Day Three of Kearsie’s Health Watch 2008 and I’m already sick of words like calories, walking and water.
Anyways, from the first few moments I woke up today, aside from declaring that it was surely not already 6:00 am, I was thinking up something wonderful and mentally stimulating for all you readers to peruse, all five of you.
Ok, so technically I didn’t think that until I got into the shower to wash road grime and cow manure stench off me, but whatever.
Here’s another miracle, sort of.
A few months ago, I was home alone with the girls on a Saturday and decided to be super-proactive Mom and get all kinds of errands done without Lance’s help. I carefully mapped out exactly where I needed to go and what I needed to get when I got there. I was armed with several lists, because I am way down with lists, yo, and stuffed said lists and wallet and phone and my camera’s memory card into the pockets of my capris. My logic was, why carry a bulky bag? Bulky pockets are way better.
So, my first stop was to get some gas. Amazingly enough, there weren’t 900 people behind me, choking me with their exhaust, so I cleaned the car out too. I was very excited, because I had just written this blog and now I wouldn’t feel like a liar, because I said I’d clean my car.
Car clean and filled with go juice, I headed next to Tuesday Morning for a wedding shower gift for someone in Lance’s family who was getting married. (You can throw a rock in this town and hit someone who is kin to Lance, but whatever.) After that purchase, I drove next to Big Lots and loaded up on snacks for the family. Then I drove to the Dollar Tree for some things for the girls for our upcoming trip to Florida. Then I drove to Walmart. Here I would spend the bulk of my errand-filled day, getting groceries and printing off pictures for a scrapbook I made for my mother. I walk into Walmart, hoist the girls into a buggy and head off to the photo department. I dig in my bulging pockets and rummage around for my memory card and…it’s not there. I empty my pockets and sift through everything, still no memory card.
It was right about here that I was smacking myself in the head for not carrying my bag. Nooo, stylish and fashionable and logical me had to stuff my pockets. I hurriedly finished my shopping and rushed back home.
Once home, I put away all the bazillion bags of stuff and began calling all the places I had been to see if magically my memory card had jumped out and grabbed their attention. First I called Tuesday Morning. They said no, they hadn’t seen it but would let me know if they found it. Then I called Big Lots, they too hadn’t seen it. Next I called Dollar Tree, where the woman who answered asked what in the heck was a memory card? Then I called Walmart. No dice.
There was only one thing to do. I had to pile the kiddos into the Buick and retrace my steps. They predictably whined and complained, but I am a super awesome mom and resorted to bribery. I waved the promise of McDonald’s for dinner in their noses. They raced to see who could get to the car first. (Honestly, what is it with kids and McDonald’s? Do they put drugs in their Happy Meals? Is it full of addictive chemicals?)
Soo, we headed back to the beginning, the gas station. I parked in precisely the same spot, and hunted on the ground. Nothing, just thousands of receipts and cigarette butts. (For real, people, what are you thinking smoking next to a gas pump?)
Next, I drove to Tuesday Morning and tried to park in the exact same space. I opened the door, walked around the car to get the girls out…and there it was. My memory card. It had one tee tiny scratch on the corner, but all the important metally pieces looked normal and intact. The girls and I drove to McDonald’s, whooping away in joy.
Once at McDonald’s, stuffing our faces with kid gourmet food, I carefully stuck the memory card back into my camera and turned it on. It still worked! Upon further inspection of the memory card, I realized that the tee tiny scratch was probably because I had stepped on it after I dropped it in the first place.
It was a miracle, sort of.