You'll never know what you'll see at the doctor's office.

Sarah has had a sore throat for the past couple days and today she woke up with an ear ache. I knew what this meant and I dreaded it. A trip to the doctor. Ugh. I dropped Sarah off at the door so she could sign in and went to park the car. After getting Sarah registered, I went to the waiting room when, who did I find myself sitting across from? It figures. It was the guy I had just seen in the parking lot. The guy who was peeing on his car. Seriously. Who does that?

It was awkward for several reasons. First, he had turned to look at me as I drove past. So he saw me see him peeing. Second, I didn't know him, yet it felt like I knew him. If you know what I mean. So, there we sat, both of us trying not to look at each other and while doing so, we kept making eye contact and then both quickly looking away. Awkward. I've never felt more relieved to have the nurse come and call us back. And speaking of being relieved...sorry, I know, but I couldn't help it.

Luckily creepy guy was gone when we left. So here is my friendly tip for the day: if you ever have to go to the bathroom really, really bad, try to avoid peeing on your car in the middle of the parking lot. It is creepy.

Watch out, this isn't pretty.

I need to look and see how many times I write about my trips to Walmart. It's rather embarrassing. I think I almost got escorted out by security today. But I swear it wasn't my fault. I went to the customer service counter and boy was I mad. I was livid. I took the Black and Decker hand vacuum I had just bought less than an hour ago and dumped the contents of the black "dust bowl" container on their counter. A pile of cigarette butts, animal hair and crud sat in a pile between me and the customer service employee.

"It's disgusting, isn't it!" I told her, possibly a little too loudly. My hands were shaking and I could barely control myself. Another employee came over and asked if she needed to call security. "I just bought this and when I got home and opened it, all this filth dumped out all over my kitchen counter!" I explained quickly before anyone had time to call for back-up. "I'm trying not to throw-up," I added, it was disgusting!

The employees finally understood that I was not a crazy person. "Wow, I'd be mad too!" one of the ladies admitted while the other employee started writing up a complaint. They both apologized to me repeatedly, but it still didn't make me feel better. Well maybe dumping it out on the counter did a little.

High Standards.

We had 4 missionaries (all young men ages 19-21) over for dinner tonight. It was a nice evening, but I have to admit there was something they said that I found rather odd. They mentioned that one of the things they usually find out right away about their new companions was which Disney princess they liked the best. Seriously? Now you see that I wasn't kidding when I said it was odd.

Although, I do remember when "The Little Mermaid" first came out, at least half the guys at college were in love with Ariel. Also, strange. (I'm sure it didn't have anything to do with the shells she was wearing.)

Anyway, being curious I asked one of them which princess they liked. He said he liked the "Swan Princess." Instantly there was a loud uproar. I guess the Swan Princess isn't a Disney movie. So technically that means she isn't elgible to be a "Disney" princess. This was sounding a little too complicated.

Since the first princess went over so well, I decided to ask another missionary. He liked Meg. Again, another round of comments. "Meg married Hercules who was a god, so she isn't a princess." Wouldn't you agree that goddess trumps princess? I mean we are talking about cartoon characters.

That night, as I lay in bed trying to sleep, the more I thought about the whole conversation, the more disgusted I became. I mean, it's bad enough that girls have to live up to Hollywood's expectations of what they should look like. But now they have to compete with Disney Princesses? Geesh. Give me a break.

Unless of course we get to wear costumes. If that's the case, I call dibs on the sea shells.

Argh!

My friend and I took her kids to get something to eat the other day. As we sat down with our food, a man with an eye patch entered the restaurant. Her son had a look of awe on his face as he stood up on his chair and yelled as loud as he could, "Look everyone, it's a pirate!"

Interestingly enough the subject of eye patches just came up again. My son and I were just talking about them yesterday. On the back of his learner's permit it has "2 corrective lenses." I explained that "2" was the code for corrective lenses, not the number of corrective lenses. "Do you think there is a code for eye patches?" he had asked.

Had I been thinking, I would have used my previous opportunity at the restaurant and asked the pirate if I could see his driver's license. Now we may never know the answer to his question.

INXS is not for the faint-hearted.

I haven't been running since right before I got sick. Since it's been a while, today I decided I'd do a short run in my neighborhood. I was approaching an older couple when all of a sudden, the man grabbed his wife and pulled her off to the side of the road. They looked quite scared so I turned around to see if a car was coming. There wasn't. They kept looking at me, though.

Did I smell? I guess it was possible...it was 11:00 and really too late for me to be running. It was already hot outside. But I couldn't smell that bad, could I? Then I realized that I was singing out loud. It was an INXS song and the words I had been singing were: "Devil inside, devil inside, every single one of us, the devil inside..."

I guess I had to admit that a sweaty, heavy breathing person, singing about the devil would make anyone a little nervous...As I continued running I tried to figure out what I could do when I saw them again at the other side of the circle. Apologizing would only remind them that I was creepy. I decided I'd just smile and pretend I was normal. But the closer I got to them, I realized that I probably did stink.

I ran past them and tried not to cringe as the man grabbed his wife's arm as a precaution. I knew there was a reason I usually try to run early in the morning. And scaring old people is an all-time new low for me.

Happy Happy Birthday!

Today is Nicholas' 15th birthday. He plans on taking the test this week to get his learner's permit. It's hard to believe he'll be able to drive soon. The other day when I reminded him he needed to start reading the manual, he remarked that he should because it's been way too long since he's driven. I just had to stare at him for a while. I told him that it's been a long time since he's driven because HE DOESN'T HAVE HIS LICENSE AND HE DOESN'T DRIVE! I think he's referring to all the times he used to "borrow" the car keys after church and drive around the parking lot.

Heather made a birthday cake after we got home from church today. She was mixing it when Nick came up and asked her what she was doing. "I'm knitting a sweater," she replied. After the cake was done they noticed that someone had eaten a small piece. For some reason everyone automatically assumed it was me---but hey, I was just trying the sweater on...

I'm now officially too old for the teeny boppers to understand.

It's been raining or looked like it was going to rain all week. Every day I ask myself or my husband, "Should I have Nick mow?" And then I can't help it. I just start laughing and laughing and laughing.

My kids have stopped trying to figure out why I find this funny. Which makes it even funnier to me. They don't even know what a NICMO is! That is how old I am.

I tried to explain it to them after the first time I accidentally commented that it was good that Nick had mowed. (See, even just writing it makes me smile.) But my kids got that expression on their faces. The one that they save just for me. The, that's-the-stupidest-thing-you've-ever-said-in-your-life, "I don't know what you're talking about" look. For some reason, I know the look very well.

Or maybe they are just mortified to hear their mother speaking of such things. Perhaps their system just shuts down as soon as I start speaking about it. Which of course, only makes me laugh more. When probably it isn't even that funny. To anyone else, of course. Because to me, it is hilarious.

NICMO: An alternate spelling for NCMO--which is short for No Commitment Make Out. Two people mutually agree to not get into a relationship--but just enjoy making out.

But now NICMO is whenever my son mows the lawn. See? Funny.