"Shop til you drop" is not my idea of a good time, although it has its moments. My sister, Mom and I went furniture shopping yesterday. Mom needs a new breakfast table and chairs. I think the current table was bought when I was ten years old. Chairs seem to go faster, and these are about gone. It seemed like a good idea to shop for new ones. How can three people be so much alike and so very different? We all knew what Mom needed, but had different ideas of how to get there. Poor Mom! At 70 plus years of age, she should be able to get whatever she wants, but there Kathy and I were discussing and arguing (and laughing and teasing) over every table. It was actually a good time. One salesman told Mom that he would see her later - after her daughters went home.
I took Mom home to put her sore foot up and rest, Kathy went back to Amarillo, and I went to the mall to look for a dress to wear to this weekend's wedding. This is where the real marthon shopping took place. I really hate shopping for myself. Nothing fits my short, round body just right. Compromise is the key. Trying everything on is a must. I really needed someone to be there with me to say yea or nay to the outfits, but I hate to put anyone else through the ordeal of shopping. When I finally got close to finding something, but needed a little help, two young sales girls standing around complaining about their jobs nearly sent me over the top. Don't they know that I am a hormone crazed grandma who is depressed about her weight and has been needing a good fight all day? I ended up just ignoring them and walking across the store to find an older sales lady to give her opinion on the outfit. I was not sure the size was just right (had to compromise), but I bought it. Since I had Ranger with me, I had to get back to the car. I walked him around the parking lot and let him tinkle on some tires. It made both of us feel better.