A nine-year-old came up to me this morning in tears. We distributed progress reports a few weeks ago and she still didn't have hers signed and returned to me, which meant a loss of game time during home room.
She told me about how her family is now living in a hotel room. They had been staying with some friends, but a neighbor reported that there were too many people residing there, so they had to leave. Her mother and mom's boyfriend and their combined four kids are now staying in a single hotel room.
This nine-year-old explained to me how her mother spends her father's child support payments on rent and cigarettes, but they never have money for new clothes. The last new shoes that she had were bought by her paternal grandmother. She told me that she thinks that she would be more responsible with the child support payments than her mom is.
She is concerned about her five-year-old sister's teeth. She said that her mom doesn't make her sister brush her teeth and she thinks they might be decaying from all the juice boxes. Her mom only buys mint-flavored toothpaste and her little sis doesn't like that kind, so her teeth go unbrushed.
The baby sister has asthma, but that doesn't stop mom and boyfriend from smoking in the house. Now, the whole crew is in a single room. Not a lot of circulation for that cigarette smoke.
She's already decided that when she turns 14, she is going to move in with her dad. She told dad that they are staying in a hotel room and he is going to talk to an attorney... He talked to the attorney the last time they were homeless, but, for some reason, was unable to do anything about it. Her mom's boyfriend has said that he will live in a paper box before he lets her and her sister move in with their dad.
It broke my heart to hear her story. I think about how lucky Dave and I are... No matter what happens between us, our child will never have to go without new clothing or a place to call home.
I'm going to stop at Walgreens this afternoon to pick up some bubblegum flavored toothpaste. I'm not really quite sure what else there is to do.
Showing posts with label stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stories. Show all posts
11.06.2007
3.22.2007
True Story
When we left the hotel room, we decided that we would grab a bite for breakfast, head to the beach and walk around down there for a bit, then head back to poolside in Ocala. The weather in Vero Beach was somewhat overcast and pretty windy... not quite beach weather.
Once we travelled the few miles to the coast, the sky had cleared up, although the wind was still strong. Tommy, Dave, and I grabbed our towels and reading material and made our way over the small hill onto the beach. We were determined to make the most of our proximity to the ocean, wind be damned.
We settled in and lotioned up. The lotion acted as adhesive for the sand that was being blown across the beach. We marvelled at the brilliance of the blue sky and the large waves in the surf. They must be at least three or four feet high, we commented to each other.
After a while, I suggested that we walk for a bit down the beach at the edge of the water. The three of us left our towels and headed down the small incline to where the waves slid up the sand and then receded into the ocean. The cold water shocked our feet; a larger wave soaked the cuffs of my capris. We watched several surfers and boogie boarders bob on the waves a bit further down the way. A swell would rise behind them and they would paddle furiously and hop on their boards, swaying to stay upright for more than a few seconds. The waves were large, but they were cresting to quickly for any long rides.
"I'm kind of tempted to go change into my suit and go in for a bit," Tommy said.
Me, too, I thought.
"Yeah, but we need to be in the car on the way home in about thirty minutes if we are going to make it home by the time everyone is expecting us," Dave reminded us.
I looked at Tommy and I looked at Dave. I decided to indulge my little brother. We walked out to the vehicle, got our suits, and changed into them in the bathrooms.
"I haven't been swimming in the ocean in several years," he told me. "That's part of why I want to go today, even though it will be cold. I don't know when I'll get another chance."
I like being the big sister that gives Tommy the opportunity to do stuff he normally wouldn't get to do. As we walked back up to the beach, I played with the idea of what would happen if something happened to Tommy and me while we were in the water. Would Dave say that he had told us not to go? Do people have premonitions if something bad might happen? I dismissed the thoughts thinking that even if people do have premonitions like that I felt perfectly secure in going out into the ocean today.
We ran into the surf, applying the theory that it isn't as cold if you just go in all at once. We jumped over the waves and began to dive under them as the water got deeper. We got out past where the waves were breaking so we could float along the top of the waves. It was too deep for either of us to touch. We treaded water and laughed as the waves picked us up and dropped us down behind them.
"I've never been in waves this big," Tommy said to me.
I toldd him about when I'd lived in Jacksonville and a time when I'd been in the ocean in San Diego and I'd gone boogie boarding and had ridden waves these big into the shore. I had to tell the story in short spurts, between the waves and between trying to catch my breath from treading water for so long.
"Let's catch this next wave and ride it in," I said to him. He nodded.
I began kicking my feet as the wave rose behind me. As the tips started to froth white, I stretched my arms out ahead of me and gave a couple big kicks before streamlining my body. About twenty feet closer to shore, I looked back at Tommy, who was still in about the same location as we'd started. I hopped along a bit and rode a few smaller waves in until I could stand in about knee-deep water and turn back to watch Tom.
I admired him as I watched him dive under another wave. I had been getting tired and I had needed to come in closer to where I could stand to catch my breath. Tommy, only seventeen years old and an athlete, had so much more endurance than I.
"Vi!" he called and waved, letting me know where he was. I waved back.
"Vi!" Tommy's voice came from behind a wave. I started to hop a little further out so he could see where I was. I wished that he wouldn't call like that; his voice was scaring me because it sounded like something was wrong.
"Vi!" Something wasn't right. I started back out into the surf towards him. I remembered a friend who had talked about her niece getting bitten by a shark on this very same beach.
His voice came to me again, "Vi!" I was close enough to clearly see his face now and I could tell that he was scared.
"Are you okay?" I asked as I reached him.
"No," he said. His face was white. His voice sounded like that of a child who has just woken from a bad dream.
"What's wrong?"
"I can't get in. The waves are too big."
"Okay," I told him. "It's okay." I grabbed his wrist with my right and and started pulling. "Come on, we're okay. Let's swim in."
We started swimming towards the shore. The waves were coming in shorter intervals now. As soon as we would get over a wave another one would be on top of us.
"Dive under this one," I instructed. As soon as we did, I could feel the turbulent water try to tear his arm from my hand. My head surfaced and my hair was in my face. With my free hand, I pushed it out of my eyes and gasped for a breath.
I could feel myself getting more and more exhausted. We couldn't reach the bottom. We couldn't relax and catch our breath. We were both trying to stay afloat and swim to shore using only one hand. At one point, I tried to release his hand so I could get myself high enough above the water to get a breath and see where we were. I stared up at the sky, grasping my brother's arm, kicking towards shore and feeling another wave get ready to push us where it wanted us to go.
Oh, God, please just let us make it to shore.
Finally, we reached water that was shallow enough for us to stand. We staggered toward the sand, waves still shoving us in the back, keeping us off balance. We held onto each other's wrists until we made it and sat down on the sand. I felt like I was going to vomit from the physical exertion. Tommy still looked scared.
I stayed in rescue mode as the lifeguard came down to check on us and then Dave walked down from where we'd set up camp. I guided Tommy back to our towels, where he laid prone, face inches from the sand. I took his pulse, rubbed his back, instructed him to drink sips of water. After he'd vomited sea water and orange juice from breakfast, we walked back to the car. His pulse had slowed, his stomach had settled.
As the immediate danger receded, the reality of the incident hit me. My lack of common sense had put my little brother in danger. Anytime I've been in waves like that, I've had a boogie board to float on in order not to get exhausted. Tommy isn't as experienced a swimmer as I am; I was on swim team for years, he plays soccer. He's never been in waves that big and I left him out there alone. I should've known better.
I shake my head in disgust on the drive home and blink back tears as I stare at the book I am trying to read. I am grateful that we both escaped unharmed, but I beat myself with guilt for having put him in that position. I should've known better.
Once we travelled the few miles to the coast, the sky had cleared up, although the wind was still strong. Tommy, Dave, and I grabbed our towels and reading material and made our way over the small hill onto the beach. We were determined to make the most of our proximity to the ocean, wind be damned.
We settled in and lotioned up. The lotion acted as adhesive for the sand that was being blown across the beach. We marvelled at the brilliance of the blue sky and the large waves in the surf. They must be at least three or four feet high, we commented to each other.
After a while, I suggested that we walk for a bit down the beach at the edge of the water. The three of us left our towels and headed down the small incline to where the waves slid up the sand and then receded into the ocean. The cold water shocked our feet; a larger wave soaked the cuffs of my capris. We watched several surfers and boogie boarders bob on the waves a bit further down the way. A swell would rise behind them and they would paddle furiously and hop on their boards, swaying to stay upright for more than a few seconds. The waves were large, but they were cresting to quickly for any long rides.
"I'm kind of tempted to go change into my suit and go in for a bit," Tommy said.
Me, too, I thought.
"Yeah, but we need to be in the car on the way home in about thirty minutes if we are going to make it home by the time everyone is expecting us," Dave reminded us.
I looked at Tommy and I looked at Dave. I decided to indulge my little brother. We walked out to the vehicle, got our suits, and changed into them in the bathrooms.
"I haven't been swimming in the ocean in several years," he told me. "That's part of why I want to go today, even though it will be cold. I don't know when I'll get another chance."
I like being the big sister that gives Tommy the opportunity to do stuff he normally wouldn't get to do. As we walked back up to the beach, I played with the idea of what would happen if something happened to Tommy and me while we were in the water. Would Dave say that he had told us not to go? Do people have premonitions if something bad might happen? I dismissed the thoughts thinking that even if people do have premonitions like that I felt perfectly secure in going out into the ocean today.
We ran into the surf, applying the theory that it isn't as cold if you just go in all at once. We jumped over the waves and began to dive under them as the water got deeper. We got out past where the waves were breaking so we could float along the top of the waves. It was too deep for either of us to touch. We treaded water and laughed as the waves picked us up and dropped us down behind them.
"I've never been in waves this big," Tommy said to me.
I toldd him about when I'd lived in Jacksonville and a time when I'd been in the ocean in San Diego and I'd gone boogie boarding and had ridden waves these big into the shore. I had to tell the story in short spurts, between the waves and between trying to catch my breath from treading water for so long.
"Let's catch this next wave and ride it in," I said to him. He nodded.
I began kicking my feet as the wave rose behind me. As the tips started to froth white, I stretched my arms out ahead of me and gave a couple big kicks before streamlining my body. About twenty feet closer to shore, I looked back at Tommy, who was still in about the same location as we'd started. I hopped along a bit and rode a few smaller waves in until I could stand in about knee-deep water and turn back to watch Tom.
I admired him as I watched him dive under another wave. I had been getting tired and I had needed to come in closer to where I could stand to catch my breath. Tommy, only seventeen years old and an athlete, had so much more endurance than I.
"Vi!" he called and waved, letting me know where he was. I waved back.
"Vi!" Tommy's voice came from behind a wave. I started to hop a little further out so he could see where I was. I wished that he wouldn't call like that; his voice was scaring me because it sounded like something was wrong.
"Vi!" Something wasn't right. I started back out into the surf towards him. I remembered a friend who had talked about her niece getting bitten by a shark on this very same beach.
His voice came to me again, "Vi!" I was close enough to clearly see his face now and I could tell that he was scared.
"Are you okay?" I asked as I reached him.
"No," he said. His face was white. His voice sounded like that of a child who has just woken from a bad dream.
"What's wrong?"
"I can't get in. The waves are too big."
"Okay," I told him. "It's okay." I grabbed his wrist with my right and and started pulling. "Come on, we're okay. Let's swim in."
We started swimming towards the shore. The waves were coming in shorter intervals now. As soon as we would get over a wave another one would be on top of us.
"Dive under this one," I instructed. As soon as we did, I could feel the turbulent water try to tear his arm from my hand. My head surfaced and my hair was in my face. With my free hand, I pushed it out of my eyes and gasped for a breath.
I could feel myself getting more and more exhausted. We couldn't reach the bottom. We couldn't relax and catch our breath. We were both trying to stay afloat and swim to shore using only one hand. At one point, I tried to release his hand so I could get myself high enough above the water to get a breath and see where we were. I stared up at the sky, grasping my brother's arm, kicking towards shore and feeling another wave get ready to push us where it wanted us to go.
Oh, God, please just let us make it to shore.
Finally, we reached water that was shallow enough for us to stand. We staggered toward the sand, waves still shoving us in the back, keeping us off balance. We held onto each other's wrists until we made it and sat down on the sand. I felt like I was going to vomit from the physical exertion. Tommy still looked scared.
I stayed in rescue mode as the lifeguard came down to check on us and then Dave walked down from where we'd set up camp. I guided Tommy back to our towels, where he laid prone, face inches from the sand. I took his pulse, rubbed his back, instructed him to drink sips of water. After he'd vomited sea water and orange juice from breakfast, we walked back to the car. His pulse had slowed, his stomach had settled.
As the immediate danger receded, the reality of the incident hit me. My lack of common sense had put my little brother in danger. Anytime I've been in waves like that, I've had a boogie board to float on in order not to get exhausted. Tommy isn't as experienced a swimmer as I am; I was on swim team for years, he plays soccer. He's never been in waves that big and I left him out there alone. I should've known better.
I shake my head in disgust on the drive home and blink back tears as I stare at the book I am trying to read. I am grateful that we both escaped unharmed, but I beat myself with guilt for having put him in that position. I should've known better.
3.14.2007
Pi(e) Day
Today is March 13, or 3.14, so let us all join hands, sing Pi Carols, and rejoice.
Yeah, I don't know any Pi Carols either, but the nice weather is getting me all kinds of giddy. Plus, tomorrow is the "Ides of March," and celebrating Pi(e) is way more fun than celebrating the fact that Brutus murdered Caesar.
**********
Q: What do you get if you divide the circumference of a jack-o-lantern by its diameter?
A: Pumpkin pi.
Q: What do you get when you take a bovine and divide its circumference by its diameter?
A: Cow pi.
Q: What do you get when you take green cheese and divide its circumference by its diameter?
A: Moon pi.
Q:What do you get when you take a native Alaskan and divide its circumference by its diameter?
A: Eskimo pi.
Q:What do you get when you take the sun and divide its circumference by its diameter?
A: Pi in the sky.
Q: What do you get if you divide the circumference of a bowl of ice cream by its diameter?
A: Pi a'la mode.
**********
My mother is an excellent cook. She is especially a superb baker. When it comes to cakes, cookies, and more than anything else, pies, she can't be beat.
Except for once. She forgot the sugar. She blamed my friend and I for distracting her while she was making it. We laughed our @$$es off at her.
Thankfully, I had recently seen an episode of Martha Stewart that taught me about making lattice crusts and had suggested that we try this method with this pie. We pulled the pie out of the oven and shoved the sugar into the little holes in the crust with the back of a wooden spoon.
The pie tasted great and nobody would have ever known the difference. That is, if I hadn't broadcast the story to the entire extended family the next day. I doubt she'll ever live it down.
**********
Click here to hear the official Pi Song. Go on, it isn't long. And it is rather humorous, in an odd, mathematical type of way.
Yeah, I don't know any Pi Carols either, but the nice weather is getting me all kinds of giddy. Plus, tomorrow is the "Ides of March," and celebrating Pi(e) is way more fun than celebrating the fact that Brutus murdered Caesar.
**********
Q: What do you get if you divide the circumference of a jack-o-lantern by its diameter?
A: Pumpkin pi.
Q: What do you get when you take a bovine and divide its circumference by its diameter?
A: Cow pi.
Q: What do you get when you take green cheese and divide its circumference by its diameter?
A: Moon pi.
Q:What do you get when you take a native Alaskan and divide its circumference by its diameter?
A: Eskimo pi.
Q:What do you get when you take the sun and divide its circumference by its diameter?
A: Pi in the sky.
Q: What do you get if you divide the circumference of a bowl of ice cream by its diameter?
A: Pi a'la mode.
**********
My mother is an excellent cook. She is especially a superb baker. When it comes to cakes, cookies, and more than anything else, pies, she can't be beat.
Except for once. She forgot the sugar. She blamed my friend and I for distracting her while she was making it. We laughed our @$$es off at her.
Thankfully, I had recently seen an episode of Martha Stewart that taught me about making lattice crusts and had suggested that we try this method with this pie. We pulled the pie out of the oven and shoved the sugar into the little holes in the crust with the back of a wooden spoon.The pie tasted great and nobody would have ever known the difference. That is, if I hadn't broadcast the story to the entire extended family the next day. I doubt she'll ever live it down.
**********
Click here to hear the official Pi Song. Go on, it isn't long. And it is rather humorous, in an odd, mathematical type of way.
1.29.2007
They're All Going to Laugh at Me
So, I'm feeling extremely motivated today.
I actually woke up this morning half an hour early and did the treadmill for half an hour before getting in the shower. Yeah... Not even kidding. I watched a TiVo-ed episode of Scrubs and burnt about 300 calories. Way to start the day, yeah?
Because of the workout, I'm in a great mood at work today. Being extremely productive (excluding this time that I'm blogging, but this is technically my lunch time) and getting lots done.
I spent the morning doing work outside of my office and decided to stop at Subway to get a healthy lunch. I opted for the turkey wrap (to save the calories from the actual bread).
Because I was in such a great mood, I was joking around with the workers at Subway. There wasn't anyone else in the store, they were giving me trouble for not being able to decide what I wanted, I was giving it right back to them... They asked me why I didn't want cheese on my wrap and I explained how stoked I was that I actually got up and exercised before heading to work. They laughed (okay, they humored me) and sent me on my way.
As I exited the restaurant, I noticed a quarter on the ground. My day was getting even better. First of all, I never notice money on the ground. Second of all, if it is a penny, nickle, or even a dime, I don't waste my time bending over. But, for a quarter, today, why not?
And... the quarter was superglued to the sidewalk.
I straightened myself up and held my head high as I walked to my car. I didn't look back at the quarter or the restaurant. I could just imagine those Subway workers laughing their @$$es off at the dumb chick who fell for the ol' coin superglued to the ground trick.
Serves me right for being in a good mood...
I actually woke up this morning half an hour early and did the treadmill for half an hour before getting in the shower. Yeah... Not even kidding. I watched a TiVo-ed episode of Scrubs and burnt about 300 calories. Way to start the day, yeah?
Because of the workout, I'm in a great mood at work today. Being extremely productive (excluding this time that I'm blogging, but this is technically my lunch time) and getting lots done.
I spent the morning doing work outside of my office and decided to stop at Subway to get a healthy lunch. I opted for the turkey wrap (to save the calories from the actual bread).
Because I was in such a great mood, I was joking around with the workers at Subway. There wasn't anyone else in the store, they were giving me trouble for not being able to decide what I wanted, I was giving it right back to them... They asked me why I didn't want cheese on my wrap and I explained how stoked I was that I actually got up and exercised before heading to work. They laughed (okay, they humored me) and sent me on my way.
As I exited the restaurant, I noticed a quarter on the ground. My day was getting even better. First of all, I never notice money on the ground. Second of all, if it is a penny, nickle, or even a dime, I don't waste my time bending over. But, for a quarter, today, why not?
And... the quarter was superglued to the sidewalk.
I straightened myself up and held my head high as I walked to my car. I didn't look back at the quarter or the restaurant. I could just imagine those Subway workers laughing their @$$es off at the dumb chick who fell for the ol' coin superglued to the ground trick.Serves me right for being in a good mood...
1.12.2007
Dreaming Up New Drinks....
I think the craziness of work this week has been manifesting itself in the dreams I've been having at night. (Diana, I may need your help interpreting them!) So far, every night this week, I've awoken to the memory of some strange dream...
The one that stands out most in my mind, I've been wanting to blog about all week... I haven't even had time to sit down at the computer, let alone read blogs or post anything. So, here goes:
Dave and I decide to have some people over for a small get-together. Some are the people we normally hang out with, some are people that I haven't seen in quite some time. We decide that for a change, we won't have people over to our house. Apparently, Dave has a second home that he uses to 'get away' from things, so we decide to head there.
This relaxing second home of Dave's is not what I had quite expected. It was a trailer, and I'm not talking about the nice, clean, kept-up kind. Imagine the trashiest, broken down, falling apart trailer you can and then realize that this trailer was about 5x worse than that. In addition to being in such disrepair, the trailer was located at the top of three steep plateau-type things... We had to climb up these rickety wooden stairs that were only about five inches deep in order to reach the trailer.
Once we got there, though, the party got underway. The infamous "Sex with an Alligator" was the drink of choice for the night. A lot of people have never heard of it, but it is a fabulous concoction of Jaegermiester, Midori, and some other stuff. We used to drink it all the time when I lived up in KC.
Then, there was a slight problem. We ran out of the ingredients needed for the mixed drink. So, somebody (I'm not sure who) decided that we would improvise. Instead of Sex with an Alligator, we decided to make "Suicidal Alligators."
This one was made with Midori.... and Bailey's... and coffee....
I'll let you figure out why my subconscious decided to call this type of alligator 'suicidal.'
Just thinking about it made me throw up in my mouth a little bit....
The one that stands out most in my mind, I've been wanting to blog about all week... I haven't even had time to sit down at the computer, let alone read blogs or post anything. So, here goes:
Dave and I decide to have some people over for a small get-together. Some are the people we normally hang out with, some are people that I haven't seen in quite some time. We decide that for a change, we won't have people over to our house. Apparently, Dave has a second home that he uses to 'get away' from things, so we decide to head there.
This relaxing second home of Dave's is not what I had quite expected. It was a trailer, and I'm not talking about the nice, clean, kept-up kind. Imagine the trashiest, broken down, falling apart trailer you can and then realize that this trailer was about 5x worse than that. In addition to being in such disrepair, the trailer was located at the top of three steep plateau-type things... We had to climb up these rickety wooden stairs that were only about five inches deep in order to reach the trailer.
Once we got there, though, the party got underway. The infamous "Sex with an Alligator" was the drink of choice for the night. A lot of people have never heard of it, but it is a fabulous concoction of Jaegermiester, Midori, and some other stuff. We used to drink it all the time when I lived up in KC.Then, there was a slight problem. We ran out of the ingredients needed for the mixed drink. So, somebody (I'm not sure who) decided that we would improvise. Instead of Sex with an Alligator, we decided to make "Suicidal Alligators."
This one was made with Midori.... and Bailey's... and coffee....
I'll let you figure out why my subconscious decided to call this type of alligator 'suicidal.'
Just thinking about it made me throw up in my mouth a little bit....
9.05.2006
On Becoming A Woman...
As told by Bill:
"I was driving home from work and my cell phone rang. It was the home phone, so I knew it was one of the kids. When I answered, K. said to me the words that every father dreads hearing.
She had "started" and would need for me to pick up "provisions."
Staying calm, I told her not to worry, that I would stop and be home shortly.
I immediately hung up the phone and called my wife, Chris, who was still at work. She gave me explicit instructions on what to buy at the store. 'No biggie,' I thought.
I walked into the grocery store and found the aisle with the sign above proclaiming 'Feminine Needs.' I stared up and down the never-ending shelves filled with a million different types of products. I couldn't remember what Chris had told me to buy. There were pads with wings, pads without wings, nighttime, daytime, mid-morning, lite flow, heavy flow, travel packaged, and some that were even made for thongs. K. would not be wearing the type made for thongs.
I walked down to the end of the aisle and peeked around the corner, looking for any woman who might be able to help a guy find the right kind of feminine hygiene products for his daughter. I don't wear a wedding ring, so I figured that some woman would have pity on me and guide me in the right direction.
Apparently no women shop at Kroeger's at 3:30 on a weekday afternoon. Men only, as far as the eye could see.
I went back to the aisle and glared at the infinite number of choices. Blindly, I grabbed a package and began to make my way to the door.
I got home and walked in the door. K. was waiting for me, looking kind of like a deer in the headlights. I took her into the laundry room.
'Do you know how to use these?' I asked her.
She looked at me blankly and shook her head 'no.'
'Well, I don't either,' I told her, 'so we'll figure it out together.'
I opened the package and found that there were many more small packages inside of it. I took one of the small packages and tore it open. I pulled out the pad. It had these huge flaps hanging off the side. There was a strip on the back with the words 'Peel Here.' I peeled it back to reveal an adhesive strip that immediately attached itself to my hand. As I struggled to unstick myself, I heard K.'s voice.
'Dad?' the timid voice said. 'I think I can figure it out.'
A wave of relief washed over me. I shook the attached pad into the trash can and tried not to sprint out of the room.
Thank God that my younger child is a boy."
"I was driving home from work and my cell phone rang. It was the home phone, so I knew it was one of the kids. When I answered, K. said to me the words that every father dreads hearing.
She had "started" and would need for me to pick up "provisions."
Staying calm, I told her not to worry, that I would stop and be home shortly.
I immediately hung up the phone and called my wife, Chris, who was still at work. She gave me explicit instructions on what to buy at the store. 'No biggie,' I thought.
I walked into the grocery store and found the aisle with the sign above proclaiming 'Feminine Needs.' I stared up and down the never-ending shelves filled with a million different types of products. I couldn't remember what Chris had told me to buy. There were pads with wings, pads without wings, nighttime, daytime, mid-morning, lite flow, heavy flow, travel packaged, and some that were even made for thongs. K. would not be wearing the type made for thongs.
I walked down to the end of the aisle and peeked around the corner, looking for any woman who might be able to help a guy find the right kind of feminine hygiene products for his daughter. I don't wear a wedding ring, so I figured that some woman would have pity on me and guide me in the right direction.
Apparently no women shop at Kroeger's at 3:30 on a weekday afternoon. Men only, as far as the eye could see.
I went back to the aisle and glared at the infinite number of choices. Blindly, I grabbed a package and began to make my way to the door.
I got home and walked in the door. K. was waiting for me, looking kind of like a deer in the headlights. I took her into the laundry room.
'Do you know how to use these?' I asked her.
She looked at me blankly and shook her head 'no.'
'Well, I don't either,' I told her, 'so we'll figure it out together.'
I opened the package and found that there were many more small packages inside of it. I took one of the small packages and tore it open. I pulled out the pad. It had these huge flaps hanging off the side. There was a strip on the back with the words 'Peel Here.' I peeled it back to reveal an adhesive strip that immediately attached itself to my hand. As I struggled to unstick myself, I heard K.'s voice.
'Dad?' the timid voice said. 'I think I can figure it out.'
A wave of relief washed over me. I shook the attached pad into the trash can and tried not to sprint out of the room.
Thank God that my younger child is a boy."
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