Earring update

So, how hard can it be to find a pair of earrings in an upscale shopping district?

Very.

For starters, I wanted something casual enough to wear everyday, so there went the rhinestones and "shoulder-dusters." And I didn't want to pay a lot because, you know, this is not a pair of earrings I absolutely have to have. Well, it sorta' is. Anyway, I'm frugal (cheap?) by nature, so I had my price point. It was low.

It took about a dozen stores to realize I really was in the wrong area (where's a mall when you need one?), but eventually at an Ann Taylor, I found the 50% off rack with reasonably sized earrings. And the 50% was off the sale price. I wore my less-than-$10 pair out.

Having a grand time.

Wish you were here.

Kay, earring'ed once more

The curmudgeon taps her foot again

So I have a question, just a question mind you, of a salesclerk in a store. This store sells wine and kitchen gizmos and exotic jewelry and furniture from around the world. Nothing's real expensive, but there's not a price displayed on a package of cookies. They come in three flavors, mango, strawberry, and apricot, and they look like they'd be just right for the bridge group. But I have my financial limits on what I'm willing to pay for 12 cookies from Portugal, so I take the package to the front counter.

Which is where our story really begins. The young woman in front of me is having a heck of a time getting her credit/debit card to go through. The young male clerk is little help. He keeps pushing buttons on the register which will lock up, then not. The woman explains that there's lots of money in that account. Lots. They just sold property. Oh, maybe it's the wrong card. She tries another. Same song, second verse.

Then our clerk lets go the truth: the machines were down the evening before. I'm thinking it's not that someone has drained the accounts, but that maybe the machine isn't back up and no one in the invisible back office has told the clerk. Finally, she pays cash, about $20, and vows to go check at the bank. I bet the teller got an earful.

I find out my cookies are reasonably priced, the register is working for that bit of info, and I go to load up.

Reappear at the same register, same clerk, different shopper, this one about my age, same problem. By this time, I'm wondering 1) where management is and 2) why this guy isn't still stocking, because customer service of the-credit-card-machine-isn't-working-ma'am type, is severely lacking. The amount in question this time is a bit over $5. She gives up and writes a check.

Now, if the credit card machine isn't working right, then the instant-verify your check isn't working either. Finally someone shows up to take the line of customers to another register. Trust me, I paid cash.

Management said she was sorry for the wait. That's when I unloaded: told her I'd waited twice. That the clerk was on his own. Why hadn't someone come to help him sooner?

As I'm leaving the cashless woman with the still spinning check standing at the counter, management is leaning over asking what's wrong.

Sheesh! And she even tried to get me on their mailing list!

Getting a leap on the season

Yesterday afternoon, I decide to join the throngs at the local Walmart. I figured most of the line-standing would be over, especially since I hadn't anything to exchange/take back, so it shouldn't be any worse than a regular school's-just-out time of day, and it wasn't. I didn't want to wait until today because I did want to cash in on half-price Christmas ribbon--and anything else which looked appealing.

I was not the only one with the afternoon idea. Buggies, always a tight squeeze to get two through the aisles, crowded and pushed. I was late to the game, as it were, but I still managed to do my share of helping Walmart clear their Christmas stock. It would appear I was just in time because...

...it's Valentine's already! Did you know that? We are skipping right over New Year's and settling in on heart-day. I know this for a fact because the greeting card displays had nary a 'Season's Greetings'. They had all been replaced with Valentine's Day. A wall of Valentines. And if we, the willing public, don't get on the ball and divest the shelves of all the Christmas, no telling what will happen to all that hapless ribbon and paper and doo-dads as they follow the single-price Christmas greeting cards into oblivion.

Maybe I'd better go back.

Presenting the presents

Before we start buying Christmas presents, I make a list of giftees and possible gifts. It then becomes a fill-in-the-blank exercise, adding anything we find on the great shopping weekend, which took place this year in November. All of these gifts, left in their store bags, stack in my sewing room where I can step over them until it's time for the grand wrapping.

Usually, I haul the paper and ribbon into the sewing room, pick a sack and start. I check off the items as they're wrapped.

This year, I decided to do it a bit differently. I moved everything down in to the breakfast room, turned on the TV (not available in the sewing room), and wrote out a new list as I wrapped. Ms. Efficiency. Or so I thought.

I hadn't wrapped anything in a day or two, the Christmas card sack was in use instead, when I happened to go into my sewing room and, klutz that I can be, dropped something. I'm looking for it on the floor--and see, to my consternation--more presents! They were tucked under the cutting table. I'd bought them on a vastly reduced sale back in the summer. I immediately remembered them. It's just that the Christmas list didn't exist then.

They are now wrapped, and I've scoured the place once more for hidden treasure. I haven't found it, but I'm keeping an eye open.

Happy Valentine's, anyone?

Beware the hidden underwear

One learns to "layer" in winter and one of my favorite layering pieces is a camisole. It's even recommended in the house since we keep the temps in the below-68 range. That is why one has sweaters. And house shoes.

Layered up, coat, sweater, cami, jeans, socks, other assorted necessaries for public appearances, off I went. At my favorite Chico's, I zeroed in on an item I'd seen in the catalog. That would be the new catalog of spring offerings, but I had a hot coupon in my hand which would reduce its price by half and I was a hunter in search of prey.

There it was on a rack and in my size, something the saleslady was pleased about. I gather it must have been selling like hotcakes. (As an aside, most of the items I gallop in for end up on the sale rack greatly reduced. I was not willing to take the chance with this. And there was the matter of the coupon. Heck--it was sale-priced already!)

But since one can never be absolutely sure of fit, I gathered up another one or two items and found the dressing room. Good-bye coat, off with the sweater, tossed the cami onto the pile. Or so I thought.

The desired item fit beautifully. Of the other two items, one fit, but not beautifully (back to the sale rack with it) and one would make a wonderful addition to my wardrobe. It was even on sale. A coup in less than 10 minutes. Darn, but I'm good! Time to get dressed.

Uh... cami? Not on the coat, under the coat, under the bench, stuck in any of the items I'd tried on, or the sweater I'd hastily pulled off. I had worn one, hadn't I? I just knew I had. I even looked up to the light fixture, hoping to see it dangling there.

No.

About the time I was dressed, the saleslady comes to find me. Was I okay?

Well... I started. She was going to think I was nuts, but I could have sworn I'd worn a camisole. It was black. It was old. It was... as she pointed out when we both stood in the door and studied the dressing room, wedged into the little space on the far side of the bench. She'd spotted it easily. It was obviously a trap for clothing items which wanted to stay at Chico's.

I handed her my ill-gotten gain, clicked the dressing room door closed, and removed my coat, my sweater...

Swimsuit conundrum

I'm all for end-of-the-season shopping. It's when I get some of my best stuff, both in the clothing and decorative household departments. I'm a buy-and-hold sort of gal. At least in the clothing arena, I usually get several wears out of my new acquisitions. Just recently, I've indulged in near-give-away-priced sandals and crops and I'm enjoying all of them.

So, I thought to update my one-piece swimsuit because I may be needing one in a month or so. I'm not one to leap into the pool, not having learned to swim until my late-20s (thanks, Mother, for putting your fears off on me), but occasionally, just to be sociable, one must dangle the feet in the water. My suit is probably 10 years old and, while little worn, isn't... well, heck, I wanted a tankini and a skirt, okay?

It's the end of swimsuit season. Should have been a piece of cake to acquire a new one. Alas, I was a month too late, I fear. What was left hanging from the racks might have fit either my Barbie doll or my teddy bear, but not me. This was true across quite a few stores and even online, unless I wanted to pay real prices. Oh, please. It's September. Sale, remember?

So, my old suit and I will once again slink into the shallow end of the pool. I did find, already in my possession, a pair of short gym shorts which I can wear over said suit. It's not like I'm trying to hide a part of my body or anything, but I wet the shorts down like they'd been in the pool and timed how long they took to dry hanging up.

If the suit goes, they go too. And next summer, I'll start shopping in August.