Spontaneous mischief is surely the best mischief, but if one cannot manage the purest form, then planned mischief is an acceptable substitute. Yesterday, as I was driving on the main artery road a block from my daughter's house, I contacted her and asked her whether she was in the mood to get up to no good. She couldn't join me on the fly, but we conspired to meet today to accomplish it.
It wasn't evil, the activities we planned. Just a little frivolous shopping, for one thing I "needed" and the collateral damage of purchases that spill forth from a mom and daughter who can both sit on each other's left shoulder simultaneously, whispering like little impulsive devils encouraging the emptying of bank accounts. I needed to get a warm outfit to wear to the Rotary holiday ball this weekend, on a night where snow is predicted, for a party that will have an insufficient number of tables. It's anticipated that people will stand around, and have snacks at cocktail tables rather than sit down dinners. There is no way in hell I will wear heels to a party like that. So I needed something cute I could wear with flats. I expected to get a shiny top and black pants. I wanted some combination of the specific shades of bright pink, green, and blue that I love on blown glass Christmas ornaments. The closest I could get was to buy two sweaters in forest green and pinky mauve, and then promise myself to accessorize in the ornament colors. I have a pair of white jeans that will work in a pinch, so I didn't buy more pants. I can wear my comfy boots and warm socks, and I will last at least 30 minutes longer standing at the party than I would in a dress and kitten heels. For the accessories, I moved two stores down the strip mall, and tempted fate in Michael's, for shiny beads to decorate a plain scarf. I found them and much more.
Neither my daughter nor I truly needed most of the things we got. We knew at the outset that this was dangerous, going together, especially so close to the holidays. Overall, I'm actually happy with how many things we put back. She really wanted a pair of fuzzy socks with cats who look like the ones we lost recently on them. I thought long and hard about getting socks with raccoon faces on them. In the end, we came to realize we could live without them. Same with the whiskey glasses with cats all over them that she put back, and the guide to crochet stitches that I decided I could find for free on the internet. Still, I came home with a bag stuffed with yarn for a new crochet project that might keep my hands busy long enough to keep me calm and still while I wait for my next neurology appointment, and she got yet another rainbow sweater. (I'm pretty sure she has about five of them.) The one thing I found that I was absolutely not tempted to take home, that really sort of pissed me off, was a Christmas pillow at Marshall's. Really, people, if you are going to market something with words on it, can you please run it past a proofreader before you send it to production? Your bad grammar spoils my holiday cheer.
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