Thursday, December 18, 2008

Expensive Tastes

So far in my life I have yet to have had the opportunity to acquire expensive tastes.  In some ways this has been a source of pride (maybe it's a country thing).  The most expensive purse that I have ever owned came from Bath and Body Works, and that was probably because it had body spray and lotion inside when it was purchased.  I'd rather eat hamburgers or pizza or barbequed tri-tip than go to an expensive restaurant and order something that I can barely pronounce (Paul had a hard time selling calamari when we first started dating and it took him two and a half years to get me to go out to sushi with him).  Despite Allison, Kehli and Michelle's best efforts at Saint Mary's I am still virtually clueless when it comes to all thing fashionable.  Living in our tiny town hasn't helped.  When I looked at amazon.com at the local library the most frequently searched items were camouflage clothing for hunting.  Being "dressed up" in Trinity County usually involves clean jeans.  

Sadie, however, seems to have more expensive tastes.  

Two days ago Grumpa (that's really what Sadie calls him) walked in the house with a broken watch.  He had been up on the Great Grandpa and Grandma's roof in the middle of a snow storm, doing something with the satellite dish.  On his way back down the ladder his watch got caught on something and ripped off the band, breaking the little pins inside the metal band.  After finding out at the watch kiosk that the watch couldn't be fixed without sending it back to Fossil, we walked over to Macy's (where the watch was purchased) to see if they were having any of the great holiday sales we've all been hearing so much about on the news.   They weren't.  In fact all of the jewelry in the store appeared to be full price.  

But on the way into Macy's we had a little accident.  Sadie, who was apparently rather full from her last meal, spit up curdled milk all over my red sweater.  Lately Sadie hasn't been spitting up as much and so, at my own peril, I had neglected to bring a second shirt.  With the help of a burp pad and a receiving blanket the mess was reduced to a series of rather large wet marks across my neck, shoulder and right arm.  As we walked through the perfume section on the way out of the store I picked up a bottle of perfume (it ended up being Coco Chanel) and sprayed the affected area.  The bottle was almost empty and I didn't think it was spraying.  In an overzealous moment I pressed the pump four times (thinking that the first three hadn't worked).  It had.  The stink of sour milk was replaced by the overpowering scent of Coco Chanel.  The description of the perfume follows:

"The beautiful fruity bouquet of the top notes includes peach and tangerine accompanied with the spicy sharpness of coriander.  The heart is composed of delicate baroque flowers such as rose and jasmine, surrounded by the sweet fragrance of orange, mimosa and sweet and spicy nuance of clove."  (I had to look this up online because I would have just said that it smelled, really, really strongly).

To Sadie it smelled like dinner.  Sadie has sensitive skin that tends to get hives when anything like fabric softener or perfume touches it.  I had sprayed my right side with the intention of smelling better and carrying her on my left side.  She had other plans.  She attacked, pushing herself backwards and then throwing herself to the left (my right) and grabbing on to the right side of my sweater with both hands.  

I would like to note that she is shockingly strong for her age (although probably not for her size).  She spent the rest of the shopping trip using every bit of energy to get to the perfume sprayed side of my sweater.  When she was near it she would become frenzied, trying to figure out where the smell was coming from so she could eat it.  This was not good news for my sweater.

When I was little I liked Malibu Musk, with its little bottle complete with the earphones and sunglasses.  From the very beginning (the $54,000 c-section) Sadie has been expensive.  And I have a feeling that she's going to stay that way.  

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