My Week in Four Acts: Acts I and II

Act I: Foul Mouth at the Pharmacy
Act II: Running with Zac Efron
Act III: Thanksgiving Dinner
Act IV: Dude, Where's My Buggy?

Act I: Foul Mouth at the Pharmacy
Asher is definitely Arnie's son. He totally digs shoes. He also loves shirts - especially shirts with stuff on them. Mostly vehicles (fire trucks, race cars, etc.), but a few animals, too. He also assumes that everyone else on the planet is just as excited about his shirts as he is and that the first thing they see or care about when he comes up to them is what shirt he is wearing. He also has a tendency to repeat himself. So, he'll walk up to a friend and instead of saying hi, he will yell "Fire Truck Shirt! Fire Truck Shirt!" grabbing at his chest. I should also mention that his word pronunciation is still a work in progress, and he frequently substitutes consonants for one another and often leaves out certain sounds as most 2 year olds do. And so, (I'm offering this simple phrase to kids from one to 92) -and so, I shouldn't be surprised that when we walked up to the pharmacy counter and Asher was wearing his DOG SHIRT that it sounded like he was announcing a complete profanity at the top of his lungs. His mispronunciation was right on the money, and I quickly explained to the pharmacist that he was saying "Dog shirt. Dog shirt!" She laughed and said, "All kids do it some time, honey. It happens to us all."

Act II: Running with Zac Efron
Because I'm such a super-fierce megarunner these days (I'm not), I decided to buy some new running shoes. As it turns out, you're supposed to buy new running shoes every 300-500 miles at a minimum or about every year (some people will say every few months, but to them I say no). My shoes were 8 years old. Anyway, I thought I'd try this running store because my friend Katie recommended it. The only problem was, I knew they watched you run and analyzed your walking/running to see what sort of support you need. I should mention that I like to run at night because then fewer people can see me. I've never really watched myself, but I've seen a lot of other people running, and well... I've just noticed that there's a lot of variation in how cool people look when they're running. I sort of picture myself as this teapot with running shoes wobbling down the street, or maybe some sort of Chewbacca-type lumbering up and down the track. Anyway, I've never been taught proper running technique, so I wasn't looking forward to being analyzed.

I hadn't planned on going to the running store, but I was in the parking lot getting ready to go into the grocery store when I saw two very nice looking middle-aged women using their keys to get into the store. It was ten minutes before it opened, so I figured they may be the only employees there. I could feel comfortable running in front of them. So, I got Asher and Thea into the double stroller, rolled them up the ramp, performed the usual awkward ritual of trying to get into a swinging door with the huge double stroller that's too long to get all the way in without letting go of the door that you're holding open for yourself using your behind while trying to complete the 9 point turn. I digress.. Anyway, as soon as I got into the store, I saw the person in front of me (WHY did they not hold the door open for me?) get greeted by one of those middle-aged women I talked about. Behind her was standing the next available associate, who was not the other middle-aged woman I saw unlocking the store, but instead was a 6 foot tall Zac Efron look-alike/Calvin Klein model with swooshy hair and a chiseled jaw. Now don't get me wrong, I'm 34, happily married, not interested in anything weird, but... there are just some people who are more intimidating to me especially in a sporting goods scenario. I can't fully explain it. Anyway... I accept my fate and sit down on the bench. I don't know what i was thinking was going to happen, but I was not expecting to actually have my feet looked at. Had I expected that, I may have done a few things differently in preparation- namely, wear socks and shave my legs. Instead, I came in barefoot in my Converse with crop yoga pants and seriously unshaven calves. He asks me to put my foot on the sizer thing, grabs by hairy ankles and starts feeling around on my big toe. In college, I went years without shaving (is that TMI?), so I tried to take myself back to those days when I didn't care what people thought of my hairiness. But... finally, I couldn't take it anymore and apologized for my lack of ... smoothness. actually, I think I just said, "I'm sorry, I wasn't really planning on coming." As any good salesman should do, he brushed it off (he didn't actually brush off my leg hair- that's be gross), but metaphorically speaking he brushed off my embarrassment. But, he knew what I was apologizing about, so... that means he noticed. Thank heavens my feet were clean. Whatever, anyway. I'm getting tired of telling this story, so I'll just say... he watched me run. I told him not to laugh. He said he wouldn't. He didn't. (Salesmanship.) The shoes felt good. I bought them. Surprise, surprise.

I'll save the next three acts for later.