Wet and Pleather

"You're very hard to shop for, you know. . ."

My sister said this over the phone last night, while I was calling to confirm that I had bought the right size of thing (the thing that does not have a size, because that would be spoiling the surprise, and she doesn't want to know, but the lady only gave me one gift receipt for two items, so Mere can't return it, so it has to be the right size).

Evidently, posting a list of things I wanted on the internet is not enough for my family. Nevermind that you can't find the first thing on the list anywhere (I've tried) . . . tire gauges aren't sold out at Murrays.

So I'm done. Well, still have my brother and a two friends. I bought gifts for the friend's kids, but probably should buy something for the adult too. Although I think bathtub paint is good for all ages really. And my brother? He lives in Miami and doesn't ever come for xmas. So he gets after xmas sale stuff. Sad but true.

But this was supposed to be about my adventures yesterday. When I arrived at the eye doctor's, Mr. Crabbypants had already made his choice. A choice that I would not have made. He was all proud of himself . . . they were "free" . . . totally covered by insurance. I made some other selections and made him try them on, in an attempt to swing him over to my way of thinking. But the choice had been made. I would have been more insistent (my sister uses the line, "But Daddy, we have to look at you . . .") but somewhere in the conversation I was told that these are "extra" glasses. The glasses guy thought our conversation was very amusing. "Are you sure you aren't married?" he asked . . . even though if he thought about he has known our family for ten years and KNOWS my mother.

This is not the first time I have been out with my father and people have asked if we are married. Always gives me a crawley sensation. Don't know if it is because I will actively bicker with him, or if people assume because some men marry younger women. Whatever sales person says it, they too get grossed out when I say "Ummm . . . that's my dad."

From there we went to IKEA, so early that we were corralled in the cafeteria area until the rest of the store opened. Had a nice breakfast with the old people who show up to eat breakfast at IKEA. The old people did not appreciate when my father started swearing at his phone (his email) but by that time I was listening to my ipod, so I could only vaguely hear him. I walked him all the way through the IKEA, despite his loud proclamation that he "only wanted to look at lightbulbs. Where are the lightbulbs? Did we miss the lightbulbs?" The lightbulb section is on the first floor and you start on the second floor of this IKEA. So at the end, there were lightbulbs to look at . . . and he was happy. And I only bought four things . . . two of the items being 25 cents each.

We parted ways. It was too early for lunch, so no Swedish meatballs.

(spoiler alert: My brother D. and ALL his friends shouldn't read this until after xmas)

I drove to Comerica Park to get my brother's present. Parking was too easy, and then the attendant came out and told me it would be $10. Why would the gate be up if it was ten dollars? I think gates up is "free" in the international language of parking. Eventually found out that I could get parking validated. Well, why wasn't that mentioned in the first place?

It was raining. Rained all day. I'm Emily, so I don't have an umbrella, even though it rained all day yesterday also . . . and Princess didn't share her umbrella the night before . . . so I did have the thought in my head that I should get the damn umbrella and put it in the truck. But I'm wearing this dumb pleather jacket that I got at Target. (My father mentioned at breakfast, "So . . . when did member's only come back in?") So I'm somewhat waterproof. Not warm, but waterproof. And so far, all day, I've walked from parking lot to door and door to parking lot. So I'm dry and the hair is still somewhat good.

Walk to ticket office. Closed. And mysteriously there are all these people hanging out in the alcove. Like the ticket office could open soon. And they are people who look like they could afford tickets. They don't seem to just want shelter from the rain. Stand there for at 5 seconds . . . and see that the clothing shop is open. Walk to there . . . wet, wet, wet.

"How do you buy tickets?" No one in the official Tigers souvenir and clothing shop (the big one) knows. I was told buy them online (but I'm here . . . ) and then told to call 1-248-TIGERS (but that isn't enough numbers). Finally the manager takes pity on me and gets the main lobby of Comerica park . . . has to call three people to get the phone number and it is delivered on a piece of looseleaf paper. Evidently, the phone number to the main desk of Comerica park is a big secret (it's in my phone if anyone wants it). I call. They tell me to come on over. I get my parking validated without buying a thing.

I now have to walk around Comerica park. Wet, wet, wet. Get there. No tickets. "I'm really sorry, I haven't been here since Friday. We're sold out of those." Great. Wet. Cold. And blew the mission, so my sister is going to be mad. "But you can get gift certificates and he can just buy whatever he wants." Explain that I do not have the authority to make that decision. Call sister. Leave message. Make executive decision, precipitated by the rain and the fact that I am very wet. Buy more gift certificates that anyone needs. Have a nice chat about knives with the guy at the desk. Go and get even more wet.

I then take my soggy self to the Majestic complex. Meters only take quarters. Search for quarters. More wet. Again the box office is closed. Manage to buy tickets at the bar. Almost buy tickets for that night . . . but remember that the person I'm going with will back out at the last minute. Stick with just the Mustard Plug tickets.

Since I'm there, decide to go check out "City Knits" in the Fisher building. Park. Meter takes dimes, which is good, as I have no quarters (spent them all in Ferndale the night before). I have never been to the Fisher building, so there is a lot to look at. Get really wet walking there. City Knits is cool. Pure Detroit is kind of a let down (I'll go to the Made in Detroit store first next time). My sister calls and leaves an angry message about the tickets I was supposed to buy on Monday (and now have gift certificates on Friday . . . who knew everyone would buy their loved one a Pepsi six pack thingy for Comerica park?) Get really wet walking back to the truck.

So now I'm soaked, except for the parts covered in pleater. Decide to go to Northland. Then to Target. Then home. Just before I decide to get ready for the concert, IM the dude I'm supposed to go with to make sure his coming. He's not. Go to Twelve Oaks instead.

And that's how I finished my xmas shopping. And I'm not hard to shop for. And don't buy me an umbrella. I have one, I just don't bring it with me.