Lindy’s Blog: Where Mom is Always Right

August 15, 2008

Operation Barcalounger a success

Filed under: Family — by lindyborer @ 10:21 am
Tags: , ,

We’re back, and we had a good time.  Of course, being away from home, the kids ate nothing.  This translated into freakish and sometimes startling mood swings as their blood sugar fluctuated with each licorice whip they ate.  But I suppose this is normal, and that things will level off here in a couple of days. 

We did go to the zoo on Tuesday, and were surprised at the number of people there for a Tuesday.  What is amazing was the number of people who go to the zoo without kids.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been to the zoo before I had kids…once.  I guess what I’m trying to say is that they looked like regulars.  And then there are the canoodling couples.  This is quite puzzling to me as well.  The zoo just doesn’t seem all that romantic to me.  There’s always the chance that while you’re trying to express your undying love to your one and only, the elephant might decided to take care of some smelly business, or the monkeys might decide to start behaving badly.  Definitely a mood dampener.  (Although, maybe some couples like this.)

Linus told me at one point, “Mommy, take a picture of that giraffe’s butt.”  So I did. 

 As always, half the fun of going to Omaha is that we get to stay with Marv and Helen, and indulge in delightful fare such as the huge cinamon rolls with frosting from The Farmhouse.  Beyond description.  And play with cousins Grace and Noah.  And go to thrift and antique stores.  David will go to antique stores, but not to thrift stores, but I make no such haughty distinctions.  Junk is junk, and cheap junk is my specialty. 

Yes, we were able to do a bit of shopping as well minus the kids.  This in itself is almost the best part.  One antique store we went to was truly an antique store, not a flea market disguising itself as such.  Of course, David singlehandedly (and unknowningly) picked out the two rarest and most expensive items in the entire store.  So of course we walked away empty-handed.  Sigh. 

But, BUT!  On a last little fling, Sarah (David’s cousin) and I decided to check out a new little thrift shop in the area, Hand Me Ups.  And I stumbled upon a lovely leather recliner (Barcalounger by brand) that just happened to have a small fixable tear in the arm.  It was love at first sight, and obsession at first sit.  This thing reclines, and then it RECLINES.  I’m talking, all the way back, I could sleep here forever reclines.  And it’s so soft, and so…library-ish!  Like Helen said, it looks like it should be surrounded by books. 

I immediately called David, and he obediently and crustily came over to the store to look it over with Marv (male-like), turning it over, examining the underside, looking behind the cushions, and looking generally unimpressed.  I felt as though I were being the one scrutinized.  “Tell her to take $100 off and we’ll see.”  Well, she had just gotten it in two days ago, and she simply couldn’t come down on it by more then $10.  We left the store without the chair.  To make matters worse, I immediately looked it up online to see about the price of a new “Longhorn” leather chair: $11-1300!  I begged and pleaded, and then begged and pleaded some more all the way home from Omaha.  I tried every trick.  I painted word pictures.  “You’re cold and tired.  You’ve come in the house this December to warm up, and I tell you to just go sit in the leather chair by the fire while I bring you some of these nice warm cookies I just baked.”  David thought this over, then decided that this scenario was highly unlikely.  I even tried to use some of my feminine wiles, but he didn’t fall for them.  I really did feel that I had left my baby behind, and that it was going to be snapped up by some unworthy sitter.  Such a great deal!  How could we possibly pass that up?  “Someone probably died in it.”  “And think of how comfortably they went!” went my reply.

Finally, I tried another tack, and found the chink in his armor.  I snapped out of my pleading voice and  thought (aloud), “Why am I begging?  Am I not an equal partner in this marriage?  Am I being extravagant?  Am I demanding a brand new Barcalounger?  Is not every piece of furniture in our house from a second hand store?  I am simply trying to save us an absurd amount of money on a fabulous chair!”  And I saw him begin to smile and look uncomfortable, and at that moment, I knew I had the chair!  

So, Helen and Marv were kind enough to go pick up the thing, and they have it stored at their house until L and J can pick it up next week.  I feel like I’ve won the lottery.  Here is a picture of the chair:

David’s crotchetiness reminds me of a story:  Someone was telling my father-in-law how they had just been to “his eldest son’s apartment in Lincoln,” meaning Keith, David’s middle brother.  Larry corrected him, saying, “Actually David is my oldest son.”  To which this person replied, “Oh, yeah.  For some reason I always think of David as a 40-year-old man.”  Yes, David is very responsible for his age.  But that’s not why I married him!  Which reminds me of another story…

When David and I were in childbirth preparation class while I was pregnant with Linus, the instructor wanted us all to go around and say what we like best, or found most attractive, about our mate.  Amidst all of the “I love his laugh,” or “She has a beautiful smile,” one man said of his wife, “I just think she has great personal responsibility.”  Whoa there, buddy.  I think I’m going to blush.  It’s a wonder they were having a baby.  David and I had a great time on the way home imagining them.  “Oh, John, I love your eyes!”  “Marsha, honey, you’re just so…so…personally RESPONSIBLE!!”  That’s hot.

No, I didn’t marry David because he is responsible.  But we’d probably have a lot more chairs around here if he wasn’t.


1 Comment »

  1. Lindy—Bigtime score on the chair. Good for you, being so persistent! The next step would be lashing yourself TO the chair, and if that didn’t work, you’d have to pull out the Silent Treatment Card (and that’s always so much work.) I love to hear your junque hunting tales.

    Comment by Mollie — August 18, 2008 @ 7:45 am |Reply

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