Men's Underwear

So Christmas is bearing down upon us and we here in the Northeast are getting hammered by a serious snow event that just happens to fall on the last shopping weekend before the holiday. Due to the wonders of modern meteorology we had plenty of warning of the oncoming blizzard. We knew that it would start sometime between midnight and 8:00 a.m. and would accumulate somewhere between 4 and 36 inches and be accompanied by wind gusts anywhere from 5 to 55 miles per hour. You really have to hand it to our brave little weather gnomes.........they know how to refrain from being wrong at all costs.

Aside from the fact that the dogs are running in tiny circles in my teenie weenie yard with only their heads visible, and my big toes are numb from being out shoveling freakin' snow that I'm pretty sure I'm too old to be shoveling (bring forth the young men on 4-wheelers with a plow attachment!!) I'm feeling a sense of accomplishment that at least the ambulance crew will have a clear walk to wheel me on.....and now that I'm 34 pounds lighter, will not have to cut a hole in the house to retrieve me.

So back to the shopping dilemma. With all this advanced warning, Hilary and I ventured out to try and wrap things up before the big snow. Hilary is interesting to shop with. She knows what she wants and will settle for nothing less. She hates to be rushed so be prepared to spend the necessary time for her to make her decision. Since I have no such "must have just the right item" compulsion, I have a little extra time on my hands that requires I come up with new and interesting tactics to entertain myself.

It all started when Hilary, shopping for stocking- stuffers for her fiance', announced that she needed "to look in men's underwear." I defy any of you to pass up a straight line like that! "Yes Hil.........lets go look in men's underwear", I announced loudly in the middle of Target. "It's been a long time since I've looked in men's underwear" I noticed at this point that she had extended the distance between us, requiring me to speak just a little louder. " I CAN TELL YOU WHATS IN THERE IF YOU DON'T KNOW HILARY" Fortunately for me, my daughter is unflappable after a lifetime with me as her mother.

Having arrived in the undie section we were assaulted by rows and rows of manly packages shining out at us in a variety of shapes and sizes. Everything from barely there "man panties", as Hilary called them, to Betty Boop boxers. Perusing the bulging packages quickly deteriorates in to giggling and sensory overload so time is of the essence. Sensing that we were nearing our saturation point, Hilary made a grab for the boxer-briefs-with-comfort-waist-band and we hightailed it outta there.

The drive home with Christmas carols blasting, knowing that very soon our world would be white and dirty grey for the remainder of winter, was a joyful thing. Until, that is, I made the mistake of trying to start over "Jingle Bells" by Frank Sinatra.......no one can sing Jingle bells like Frank........and managed to hit the mute button instead. Hilary's long and tried patience with me had reached an end.

"Mother!.........DON'T PUSH BUTTONS!!!! You muted Frank!.......No one mutes Frank when he's singing fucking Jingle bells!" Stop touching things"

Merry Christmas Ya'll