I'm in heaven. . .

I went out tonight. Without the kids. Without Fairly Odd Father. Without anyone but my own fine company. And without any real agenda or obligation. It was quite glorious.

What exactly does a spry 39-year old mama do on her own free time? Let's see. . .

First, I had to make a quick stop to the CVS drive-though. Since I was child-free, I COULD have gotten my ass out of the car and walked into the store, but I love drive-through pharmacies sooooo much. To think that mothers of a few years ago had to WALK into the pharmacy every time they had a prescription, children in tow. I cry just a little bit for them.

The pharmacy stop was for Fairly Odd Father who had a major mountain biking accident today. And had to go to the ER! Exciting! Scary! Painful! It involved x-rays, a stitch, a wheelchair and bones moving! I know it hurt like hell and, for that, I am truly sorry for him. So why do I giggle just a little bit whenever I think about the actual injury? A dislocated pinky. It's hard to say it out loud without the corners of my mouth creeping up just a tiny big. Oh stop it! It hurt a lot! I'm just going to say a 'digit accident' from now on and leave it at that.

After the drug run, I made a run in-and-out of my most hated store: Toys-R-Us. Ugh. How a store can make TOYS look so unappealing is beyond me. But, I did it out of the great love for my sweet little nephew. I want to get him a manly looking kitchen for Christmas and, of course, the cursed TRU was out of stock of all but the most obnoxious and gigantic kitchens. My God, some of their play kitchens were bigger than REAL kitchens I have had in apartments.

After flipping off the display of hated Bratz dolls, I left TRU and made another stop---this time to Target to torture myself with another walk through the toy aisle. I did pick up in-line skates for Belly for Christmas (hey, her elbow is healed by now! time to damage something else!) and a few other things before going to my final destination: the bookstore.

Side thought: the problem with bookstores in suburbia is that they lack character. In Providence, where I lived for many years, there were several bookstores that had personality (and personalities---I especially liked the one run by a crazy woman who would scream at patrons that she didn't like; but, oh, her books were outstanding).

I found some neat bargain books for homeschooling/reference, had a peppermint/mocha drink and read the New Yorker and Us Weekly (a yin/yang magazine two-fer). I left at 9:15 and felt a little dizzy from the freedom of being away from everyone for almost three hours.

The drive home was loud and euphoric. How loud can a minivan stereo get? Pretty damn loud. And how happy was I to find a station playing the Tom Tom Club's Genius of Love? Ahhhh. . .suddenly, I was not a mom to 3, pushing 40, driving a minivan. I was someone who could sing along to lyrics like this:

What you gonna do when you get out of jail? I'm gonna have some fun. . .

Next weekend I may actually go out with a friend and have drinks. I doubt I'll be able to post anything after that.