Old People and Shopping

I googled an image for "people of wal-mart." They were all too
repulsive. I decided to go with these good-looking dudes instead.

Now, you all know that I love old people. They always have a good story to tell; they're old so they've stop caring what anyone thinks of them; and they're sweet. What's not to love?

I went to Wal-Mart the other morning on my way to drop off some goodies to the Children's Home*. Yes, I know what you are thinking. "Wal-Mart?! But Allison HATES Wal-Mart!" I do hate it, but it is en route and the thing I hate most about Wal-Mart, the people of Wal-Mart, was not a problem...because it was 10 o'clock in the morning (do I sound like a Republican?).

Anyway, there I was cruising down the aisle, when this little old dude stopped me. He was standing in front

Duncan Hines was a Ky boy.

of the cheese section looking puzzled and in need of help. "Excuse me, ma'am." he said. "Yessir. What can I do for you?" He looked at his grocery list and then back at me and asked, "Have you ever heard of cheese tortellini?" Aww! I explained to him what it was and where he could find it. There was a Wal-Mart associate nearby who overheard and said he'd take the little guy to find his pasta. Later when I was heading for the checkout line, I passed him. He waved and said, "We found it! Thank you!" 

I hopped in line behind an old woman. This lady was decked out! I mean, I realize a pair of jeans is decked out for Wal-Mart, but this woman was truly stylin' and profilin'. She reminded me of Lucille Bluth. She had on a dress, a fur jacket, her sunglasses, and a giant Coach handbag. While she was checking out, I overheard her telling the cashier that she was going to be baking this afternoon. "Honey, it's the best thing you've ever tasted. Get ya a box of Ducan Hines Spice Cake, a can of apple pie filling, and 3 eggs. Mix it up, bake it, and there you go! Delicious dessert." Well, that sounded mighty fine to me, so when I was at Target hours later, I got me a box of Spice Cake and a can of apple pie filling and I whipped up that cake. Wouldn't you know, it was a hit! I added some cream cheese frosting to it, and folks lapped it up!

Tony Delk and Darius Miller. I love everything
about this picture.

Today I went to a Kentucky shop. I don't know what the name of it is. It's just a little store that sells UK apparel. I was on a mission to find Carol a birthday present: I wanted to get her a UK scarf. Alas, they did not have one. 

I walked into the store and the sales associate was a little old dude. He hollered, "I'll give you anything in the store 20% off, and anything on this shelf, 40% off. I looked around hoping I'd find Carol something, but nothing was screaming Carol.

I gave up on finding Carol's gift, and went to look to see if they had anything cool for the boys. They did, of course. I picked up two little UK jerseys: #00 and #1. I went to check out. "Twins?" the little old dude asked. "Yep! Too bad there's not a #2 and a #5." I replied. "Yeah, that would've been neat. But these ain't bad numbers. Double-zero was..." I finished his sentence, "Tony Delk." "Right, and #1 was..." "Darius Miller." I said. "You sure know your Kentucky basketball, girl." We then went on discussing how James Young shot the lights out on Tuesday night and how this team has been fun to watch thus far. I think I ought to go up and hang out with the old feller every now and again.

*We've been donating to the Children's Home for a whole year now! Woohoo!

Back at Rupp

Rupp's rafters. 

Oh, boy! How wonderful it was to get back to Rupp today! I have missed that hallowed arena. The wait from March to November is so incredibly long. But finally, college basketball is here.

I swear. Kentucky basketball really is a religion. I want you to know that reel of Kentucky greats they show right before game time, it gets me choked up every dang time. Why am I so fanatical? I just can't help it. It's in my blood, as they say. Why, my Mom has been stressing about Tom Izzo and his Spartans for weeks.

An actual phone conversation between my Mother and me:
Me: Hi, Mom. What's going on in Dwarf?
Mom: Oh nothing. I just wish November 12th would hurry up and get here. I'm worried.
Me: What happens November 12th? Dad go to the doctor?
Mom: (talking to me like I'm an idiot) That's when we (didn't you know, my Mom plays for the Cats) play Michigan State! It's our first true test! They're a veteran team. I don't know if we can handle them. Your Dad thinks we'll lose.
Me: You are mental. And Dad always thinks we'll lose.

The most surprising thing about that conversation, as my friend John pointed out, is that I didn't immediately
know what she was talking about. It's come to this, people. I am as blue to the bone as my crazy Mother. Well, maybe not that blue just yet. Years down the road, one of my children will call me and ask, "What's going on, Mom?" And I'll tell them about how I've just changed into my lucky UK t-shirt, have my UK earrings in, my fingernails painted blue, have my fingers crossed, my head's pounding, and I have gone to the other room away from their negative Nancy father to watch the game in peace. (Yes, these really are the things my Mama does on game days. I come by it naturally.)

Oh, my boys. They are in for a real treat. I do look forward to sharing the experience with them. Sitting next

to us tonight were two dads, both with their daughters. The girls were decked out in their UK gear and were being very enthusiastic cheerleaders. Doug had the pleasure of sitting directly next to one of them. I think her pom-poms nearly took off his head a couple of times. "I should've worn my safety goggles!" he groaned. When she wasn't cheering, she was wondering whether or not dogs played basketball. I see an Air Bud movie marathon in her future.

I had a great time cheering on the Cats as they thumped on our brethren to the north, Northern Kentucky University. Here's to hoping the boys in blue play some awesome basketball on Tuesday night when they play Michigan State. It's for the health of my Mother and me.

My Possum and Me

Wherever I go, he goes!

Therapeutic Jam Session

Snuggling these dudes is also a good stress reliever. 

So, work has been a little stressful the past couple of weeks. I have a lot of it, but not a lot of time. Yes, I realize everyone else in the world has this same problem. Whatever, give me some sympathy, people.

Anyway, I was feeling like a total failure today because I had to tell my boss that I needed help. "I am struggling," I whined. "Two giant reports both due next week and 1 protocol due ASAP." I was on the verge of a melt down.

My boss gave me a little pep talk, as she often does because she is just that sweet, and I turned to my friends who were there to help me write! Thank goodness for those girls!

I felt like a turd for dragging them down. But what can you do? Sometimes, you just need help.

Finally the workday was over, and I hopped in the car to head home. To my great surprise (although, it shouldn't have been a surprise because I had been listening to the CD on the morning commute; I guess when you only listen to an actual CD once a year, it's always surprising), Nirvana was blasting from my radio. Ah, yes, definitely turned the volume up for some angry grunge music. Yes, Kurt, I do feel stupid and contagious.

Now I know Nirvana is heralded as one of the greatest rock bands of all time, but I just don't really dig them that much. Don't beat me up dudes, but once you've heard one Nirvana song, haven't you heard them all? Am I going to burn in rock-n-roll hell for writing this? Will I be stuck in the eternal flames of damnation alongside the likes of Brian who SAT DOWN FOR THE ENTIRE BOB DYLAN show. Will I forever have to hear Doug ask, "Is this Aerosmith?" when it is clearly THE ROLLING STONES. Christ! What a punishment.

Anyway, moving onto my point (I had one I think): music is such good therapy. I don't know jack about notes or how to play an instrument and I sure as heck can't sing, but boy, play me a little Johnny Cash or some Heart and my mood is on the mend. Johnny's low humming and Nancy Wilson's killer guitar riffs take me to a happier place.

Perhaps the song that cheered me up the most this evening on my way home was "2 of Amerikaz Most Wanted" by Tupac featuring Snoop Doggy Dogg. Yes, that's right. As I was cruising down the interstate in my Subaru Outback, I was bumping to some gangsta rap and singing along. Loudly. Fellow drivers probably thought I was having some sort of seizure in my car.

What makes me laugh even more than me rapping is the debate I had (with myself) about who I would be in this duet. "I think I'd be Snoop Dogg. I'm more laid back. And Kristen would definitely be my 2Pac. She is scrappy after all." Tupac was probably rolling in his grave.

Picture us rollin.

Just for kicks and giggles, the song that followed was The Godfather of Shock Rock's (Alice Cooper, I'm going to pretend that I didn't have to tell you that) classic Feed My Frankenstein. One could say I have an eclectic taste in music.