Note: This entry involves the sacredness of womanhood entering one of manhood's hallowed grounds. If you take your manhood or womanhood or that of others especially seriously, you should probably move on. I am publishing this entry at the subtle behest of my sissy.

The other day was a rather hectic one for me. It started out innocently enough, but the mirage was soon disspelled.

The Background: We had a rather ugly light fixture in our entryway, which as you know by now communes with our living room and study. Thus, all the fixtures which didn't match and were quite outdated when we moved in, needed to be replaced with ones that matched each other or at least "went" together. To this end, we bought three chandeliers from the same collection at Lowe's. However, when we installed the first of the three (a lovely five-light piece in the living room), we quickly determined that nine-light version we'd bought for the entry was way out of scale. Unfortunately, the three-light version looked dorky and the bowl style looked cheap. So, we had to find an alternative to "go" with the others. Lowe's had an attractive stained glass model, but it was somewhat more than I wanted to spend and somewhat more primary colors than I am using in my living areas. So.

So, I went to the Home Depot the other morning in search of another alternative. After browsing and browsing the small selection feeling like I was facing a myriad of square pegs, I spotted IT. A tiny (1/2 inch by 1/2 inch?) picture of stained glass bowl style entry fixture. I squinted my eyes at IT and scoured the shelves for the reality of IT (under the picture it said, "IN STOCK" quite brazenly, considering I came to find out that was hardly true). Finally I summoned the aid of an orange-aproned elf who checked the computer and confirmed the lie. Indeed, IT was not in stock. But, there were two in Greenville (dunno where that is) and one in Shallotte (contrary to phonetic rules, it's pronounced Shah-LOTE, by the way). She called the Shallotte store which confirmed they did have one--the display one, for more than 50% off the original price (which would have been way over budget). Did I want to drive an hour each way in the hopes that IT lived up to it's half-inch-square picture and all my hopes for making my house a home? After much pondering and hemming and hawing, I decided I did.

Thus, the mirage of a simple, ordinary day was dispelled in a moment. However, the drive was pleasant enough with both kids asleep in their carseats and NPR spouting thought-provoking items to keep my mind busy. The fixture was indeed all I had hoped for and due to the negligence of the staff, I got the three lightbulbs that were installed in it for free too.

And, now, we are finally to the point of the story where your tenderness toward the sacredness of man's domain vs woman's domain will be challenged. After I got everything settled in the car, we re-entered the Home Depot (man's domain) for a potty break. The kiddinkidinks did their business simultaneously in separate stalls of the women's bathroom. Then, I decided I had better go myself. So, I herded us all into the handicap stall and the kids were mindlessly examining it's nooks and crannies when I dropped my pants and gasped a little loudly. Of course they turned with shock and Punk said, "Oh! Mama! What is all that red stuff?" (and now we've entered the sacredness of woman's domain right smack in the middle of Home Schmepo). "Uuuuuuh, it's nothing honey. No big deal. I'll just take care of it and we'll be on our merry way. Now, why don't you go back to examining that dead bug in the corner, like a nice little, innocent 4 year old boy? Yes, very good."

So, one would think I had graciously dodged a senseless discussion between a flustered mama and a very curious 4 year old boy, right. Well....

We carried on and all was well. We made our way back to our home town... We did our shopping at the Food Lion and a grand time was had by all since we were lucky enough to commandeer a shopping cart with the car-thingy on the front... Mama grew a great big headache... And, we made it back to Daddy's work in time to pick him up. BUT THEN, while we were waiting for Daddy to emerge from corporate America, with no warning whatsoever...

Punk: "Mama? What was all that red stuff in the bathroom?"
Head pounding, chair reclined, thoughts embattling my frazzled brain: "Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh...... it was nothing, Honey."
Punk: "No, MOM! What's it CALLED?!"
Battling, hurting, If I tell him the real names, I will have the preschool director calling me...: "I don't think it has a name, Honey."
Punk: "Oh. Mom? I think we should call it Lava."
"Yes, actually, I think so too."