I shop often at WalMart, even though after each trip something will happen that makes me swear I will never go back. But, like a bad habit that I just can’t kick, I find my self returning. Because you know, they have low prices. Everyday.
This week was no different. Since we’ve been working on the boys’ bedrooms and trying our own version of Design on a Dime, I’ve made several trips there this week. Because my decorating budget is actually more like a nickle.
So there I was on Wednesday, minding my own business and picking up a few paint supplies, when I ran into someone I know from church. She was talking to another gal that used to go to our church and I could tell there was no way to escape without stopping and saying hello. The first lady was trying to explain to the second lady why she had a six pack of Coors Light in her buggy. (She obviously had forgotten the first rule of being baptist is that you buy your beer and liquor in the next county over to avoid running into church folks.)
It seems she had some “beer bread” mixes for which she needed the beer. I told her that I, too, had one of those bread mixes at home and the very reason I had never baked it was because I was sure as soon I went out to buy the beer I would run into people I know from church. (And church people talk y’all. I don’t care what anyone says.)
The conversation suddenly turned from the beer to the puppy she had acquired for her 80 year old mother, and how her 80 year old mother was no longer able to care for the puppy after 3 days. I suddenly found myself eyeing the beer in her cart and wondering if anyone would notice if I just cracked one open right here in the middle of WalMart. My mind wandered off to other means of escaping the conversation but I was completely trapped and suddenly she was asking me if I would be interested in taking the dog.
What? I just came in for a few painting supplies. I’m redecorating. On a nickle budget.
I politely said I would “think about it” and extricated myself from the conversation and moved to the garden center check-out. As I’m paying for my purchases and bagging them up, my church acquaintance gets in line right behind me. She continues to talk about the dog and how she would like to find a good home for her and that she was sure we would love the dog. Then, as if to help sweeten the deal, she offers me one of her beers from the six pack. So I can make my beer bread that has been sitting in my pantry for about 4 years.
Like any good baptist, I took the beer and hid it away inside one of my WalMart bags. I figured one way or another I would probably need it later.
You know. For the bread.
On the way home I called Hubby and told him about the offer of the dog. I didn’t mention the beer. He said sure; do it! We had actually been talking about getting another dog, so I called the lady back and made arrangements to pick up the dog later that afternoon.
She is, of course, the cutest little thing. It seems she has been passed around a few times and really was just in need of a good home. We’ve named her Ellie and she has already been to the vet and groomers. She is 6 months old and we’ve been told that she is a cross between a shih tzu and yorkie, which is actually one of those “designer breeds” that they call shorkies. Or a shihtzie as my sister called her. My sister is classy like that, you know.
When my husband came home that night he oohed and aahed over the new puppy. Then he went to fridge and opened the door. From the kitchen I heard him call out,”Honey, do you want to tell me about your day?” I said, “I think I’ve already told you about my day. Hello, we have a new puppy!”
“That’s not what I’m talking about”, he said. “I was wondering if you would like to explain the bottle of Coors Light in our refrigertor and exactly what happened to the other 5 bottles?”
I started laughing, because I had totally forgotten about the lone bottle of beer I had put in the fridge. I explained about the beer bread encounter and told him it was for “baking purposes only”.
Then I reminded myself of the second rule of being baptist. If you’re going to keep beer in the refrigerator, hide it way in the back behind the week old leftovers so no one will see it.