Times Have Changed, Right?

It couldn't possibly be that I'm turning into an "old fogey-" because technically I'm decades away from that- but c'mon, offer up some reassurance here...

Now that school is on break, Dear Daughter wants to take a day to go shopping with one of her friends. Not a problem~ first we figure out a day or two when the Pre-Schooler can spend his time at day care (the Terrible Three's are not something to be trifled with in a mobbed mall setting), then ask the girl's family which shopping date would work best, exchange phone numbers, find out what time the girl has to be back home, and plan the pick up time, lunch arrangements, and frankly, get on the road.

The times being what they are, Dear Daughter texted her friend for the info. Monday is fine. Yep, phone numbers have been exchanged, and I'll meet Mom face to face when I pick up Teenager #2...at eleven o'clock, because no one in her family gets up before then. Um, excuse me? So I asked for clarification, and read over Dear Daughter's shoulder as she texted some more, and received her response: "Yeah, I don't get up before eleven, so that's when your Mom can pick me up."

Uh, sweetie, the proper response would be something like "Well, since your mom is driving, I can be ready at whatever time she needs me to be."

Someone tell me I'm right. ~*Please.*~



*****

I experienced yet another moment of clarity yesterday while holiday shopping: I now "get" how men can't stand malls.

Because I went to Cabela's.

Alone.

Willingly.

Cluelessly.

It is *the* Mall-for-Men and apparently many of their please-let-him-go-hunting wives.

Dead animals, mounted trophies...no, they don't bother me. And the wildlife displays were remarkable- educational even. But the sheer number of camouflage-clad people packed amongst the three hundred different duck calls, pine cone bedding ensembles, oars, fishing poles, hunting scents, and trout ornaments was truly astonishing, in a frightening way.

Don't get your mossy oak hunting gear in a twist- Dear Husband loves to hunt, as do many friends and family. It's just not *my* thing, unless you need me to track down the ever-elusive Noritake Occupied Japan china pattern, or the perfect shade of red ballgown for your military holiday formal.



*****