The alarm went off, and I groaned. UGH! Mornings! But I couldn’t ignore the alarm as I had to get ready for Market. And Market meant control top nylons, control top camisole, 2-asprin boots, jewelry, time spent on hair, nails done, make-up, and a spray of perfume. Now I like a reason to get all dressed up, I just don’t like that reason at 6:00 in the morning.
I arrived at the hotel breakfast and found this note on the buffet. “Breakfast is canceled. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
??How was I supposed to get through the day without a breakfast? The shuttle was ready to take me to Dallas Market Center. I was the last stop. When every other passenger got off at their stop, I had an idea. “Is there a Starbucks around here?”, I asked in Spanish. The driver, smiled and said, “You wanna go?” “Yes, PLEASE!”, I said. So he did a U-y, and I bought three drinks for the driver, his son, and myself. Better. Now I can face my day.
After a late night consultation, The Hunni and I decided that we really needed to find a “Rep”–or someone to represent our clothing line. It was just too hard on our family for us to continue to go to trade shows. My goal that day, was to find someone who would sell our line for us at the Dallas Market on commission. Once The Hunni arrived, I could go looking.
I met the rag-tag bunch as they approached. Sigh. “Daddi couldn’t you at least have looked over their outfits and made sure that their hair was brushed?” I asked. “Well,” said Daddi, “I went to the hotel breakfast where there was a note that said, ‘Sorry no breakfast today’, so we went straight to What-A-Burger for breakfast, and then the morning got away from me, and we just came straight here. Sorry. We don’t really fit in do we.”
I looked around at all the co-ordinated outfits, the matching pumps and earrings, the Armani tight dress pants paired with purple button downs, the manicures, the high-heeled boots, and straightened hair. No we didn’t fit in.
Little Man was tired and bored, so he laid on the tile floor. He had on his Sunday cords, a pajama top, and a sweat shirt. Scout had on the leggings she had slept in, and her brother’s sweat shirt.
Baseball Boy wore his glow-in-the-dark skeleton sweat shirt, his dark jeans with both a hole in the knees and a large bleach spot, and his Detroit Snap Back or Flat Hat (hat with a flat brim which Detroit rappers wear). And Audrey? well neither hair nor teeth were brushed and she was sporting zebra leggings with her favorite cousin hand-me-down–a fur-lined sweater. The Hunni was in holey jeans, a sweat shirt, and was carrying our new samples in a garbage bag. And so we trouped through security with badges up to the 8th floor where I introduced my rag-tag family to everyone.
Having found a sales rep., we needed to then visit the sewing factory, and the pattern makers. Eloise is standing beside the machine that prints out our patterns. This is our third pattern change, and hopefully the last. Each change costs money.
The day was once again spent mainly in the car getting somewhere, once again spent listening to The Swiss Family Robinson and their 101 meals, once again entering addresses into a GPS, and once again having Little Man (the baby) take his nap in his car seat (I believe future studies are going to reveal that car seat use contributes to neck aches, and then we will have “time limits” on car seat use, or something like that) . . .so. . .
. . .we were really glad to have a dinner date with Erin and Thomas. We were happy to try a Tex-Mex joint. Now we might have eaten lunch somewhere between our stops, but I can’t recall if or where.
We ordered a large fajita platter for four–brisket, shrimp, chicken, and steak. The food was great, and the company even better. It felt good to be around people who liked us in skeleton sweat shirts, bleach stained jeans, zebra stripes paired with a ski sweater, and my increasingly uncomfortable layers of “tuck-me-in lycra.” It felt good to be with friends.
Thomas and Erin invited us back to their place where we played a board game and visited.
Once again, we were out late,
Thanks for staying up with us,
P.S. Exactly how do you spell “making a U turn.” Is it U-y, or Youy, or Uee, or ???? Does anyone know?
P.S.S. The photos of me this trip are mainly in Black and White. That is because I gave my face a “chemical peel” before the trip–so my face was bright red (unless I wore tons of make-up (which I did when visiting boutiques). The day we drove down, my face was feeling rather dried out, so I grabbed some lotion to put on in the car. It was Scout’s Oil of Olay lotion, and it was handy, so I grabbed it in our whirl-wind to get out the door. When I applied the lotion, it stung. I thought this was because it had perfume in it. I tried to wipe some of the lotion off with wet wipes that were in the car, but my face stung even more.
By the time we arrived at my parents place late that night, my face was burnt, very puffy, and hurt like the dickens. Obviously, I was having an allergic reaction. That night I tried washing with water, and applied a hypoallergenic cream. The cool water helped, but the hypoallergenic cream stung. The next day I did nothing. I just sat in the car with a puffy face and refused to put anything other than cool water on my face.
The third day my face began to peel. Now I am not talking a peeling nose. NO! I am talking about a lizard look. And it hurt. My face looked like awful. People stared at me at rest stops. I needed to make an appearance at the Dallas Market Center and there was NO WAY I could go with my lizard face. We were also pressed for time. So while the Hunni stopped at Starbucks, he dropped me off at a grocery store (the only thing opened at 6:00 a.m.) I finally realized that I was going to just have to scrub my already raw face, so I bought some Eucerin cream (texture of toothpaste), a scrubber glove, some cotton balls, and Witch Hazel (a toner).
Then since I only had the grocery store bathroom available, I entered and scrubbed away. OUCH!!! X 5!!!! But, 15 minutes later I left with pink skin. The Witch Hazel (toner) helped sooth my raw skin, and I purchased some expensive Cetaphil for when I finally felt better.
Basically, I gave myself a chemical peel. I had baby soft skin, as I had burnt,peeled, and scrubbed off the outer layer. Later, when I examined the Oil or Olay bottle that had cause me so much misery, I realized that it was not lotion, but heavily perfumed body wash!!!!
See? I told you I had a red, puffy face!