Time to look for the shoes

We sent the Long Suffering Husband and the Little Professor off to Gettysburg with the Boy Scouts over the weekend. The trip must have been a success, since no one got lost or had to call a locksmith. The LSH even managed to avoid sleeping on a root or rock. (The Professor’s only regret is he wasn’t able to research Gettysburg as thoroughly as he would have liked to previous to the trip.)

Since the boys were gone, my Sassy Saint and I had the house to ourselves, which meant we avoided cooking all weekend and stayed up late watching reality television. (The LSH hates reality television, but if I have to watch Kevin Bacon’s character do one more stupid thing solely to advance the plot of “The Following,” I’m going to scream.)

While we weren’t gorging ourselves on sushi and watching “Bring It!,” we were hanging out with Grandmama. Grandmama really didn’t want to be kidnapped, but we lured her out of the house. (I think the all-too-brief spate of nice weather helped.)

Since Sassy’s first formal dance is fast approaching and our first attempt to buy a formal dress ended in disaster and tears, we made a second try.

She’s still stubborn and I’ve been under the weather for almost two weeks, so conditions weren’t optimal.

However, armed with actual prerequisites for an acceptable dress – dark blue or purple, knee-length or longer skirt, minimal accents and shoulders and/or sleeves, if at all possible – we already were better off than the last trip, when I couldn’t even get a color preference from her.

You could have knocked me over with a feather when she agreed to try on a beautiful dress that didn’t meet any of those requirements – a glittery, gauzy champagne gold goddess dress with but a single shoulder.

When she said it was the dress she wanted, I didn’t believe her.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve made my decision.”

“But are you sure?”

She sighed. “Yes. I tried on eight dresses – some of them twice!”

“I just want you to be happy.”

“It’s fine.”

“Are you sure you love it? I need you to love this dress, not just buy it because I like it. I don’t want you to humor me.”

“I’m not humoring you. This is the dress I want.”

“Maybe you should try the black one on again.”

“I’ve already tried it on twice!” She rolled her eyes.

“She said she liked that dress,” Grandmama said. “And it looked very pretty on her. You clapped with joy, remember?”

Of course I remembered – she looked fantastic – but I needed this dress to be her choice. “Are you comfortable in it, though?”

“Yes.” She thrust the dress at me. “This is the one I want.”

“I’m so happy, but … do you really love it? I mean, I love it, but do you love it?”

“This is the dress I want; we’re done,” she announced.

It took a while, but they finally convinced me she was happy with the dress. I danced all the way to the register, where I discovered it was 60 percent off – happy day!

“We finally found a dress,” Grandmama said, slumping against the counter with a mix of relief and exhaustion.

“You know what this means, right?” I asked.

“No, what?”

“Now, we have to find a pair of shoes to match.”

(Wallace-Minger, a resident of Weirton, is the community editor of The Weirton Daily Times.)