An Informinator Kind of Mornin’

It’s not a bad morning in my life that includes a You Pick Two (Sierra Turkey Sandwich and Chicken Noodle Soup), a Diet Pepsi with a splash of real Dr. Pepper (the Pepper takes the edge of the Pepsi, if you get me…), free Wi-Fi, a cozy window booth in Panera, and The Informinator. SnuggleMonkey was at Ms. Kim’s house for an hour or two.  I had called a Business Meeting. I am clearly enjoying pretending things that are not true.  Business meetings are fun. This is my second one this week.

I arrived early and walked through the establishment just as a super skinny college girl was vacating the perfect booth. She waved me in. I sat down. And I began to dink around on my little Netbook, pretending to be doing something when in fact I wasn’t even properly connected to their network yet. I called the Informinator. The following brief conversation illustrates why she is The Informinator and I am vastly uninformed.

“Hey. You aren’t here yet, are you? Just wanted to make sure we weren’t on opposite sides of the restaurant..” I said. That was a fairly smart question. I was feeling both smart and efficient.

“No, I’m turning onto 30th now. I’ll be there in one minute,” she replied.

“OK. Well, I’m in a booth on the side of the restaurant that lines up to the road that leads to the mall,” Now I was beginning to fumble, so I continued…”You know, I’m on the opposite side from Fowler.”

“You mean you’re by the coke machine?” She asked. Such clarity. Such precision. Describe my seat using the INSIDE of the restaurant, not the bush on the southeast corner of the parking lot that is across from Staples. Yes.

“YES!” I said. Wish I had thought of that. By the cokes is a little easier than the side of the restaurant that lines up to the road that goes to the mall. Good grief, man.

Anyway.

She also had to tell me how to connect to the free Wi-Fi. And 156 other things that I needed to know. She was proceeding to explain something crucial to the future success of my blogging when Man Calves walked up to the coke machine.  The fact that the fountain drinks were only 3 feet from my head was already a distraction, but this chick completely derailed my train of thought. I have never, in my 40 years, seen calves like that. They were huge. She was a thick lumberjack build anyway, but wearing the clothing of a professional legal secretary. She had a shortish dress on that came just above the knees, and heels. Heels that caused her calves to stand out like a bulging vein.

“Do you see those man calves?” I asked, incredulous. Elaine was in the middle of a sentence. To humor me, and because now she was curious, she looked over. She gave them an unimpressed nod.

“OK. So back to this blog,” she said.

“No, wait. I mean, really,” I said. “I think she might have once been a dude.” Now Elaine was looking harder.

“Nooo.  I saw her face. I don’t think so. People can’t help the calves they were born with…” she said.

“I don’t know,” I said. “They can do amazing things surgically nowadays. To faces…and torsos,” I said. “I just don’t see how those could be from-birth girl calves.” At this point, she had to make concentrated eye contact and say, somewhat firmly,

“Move on from the man calves.”

OK. Done.

But Man Calves walked up at least twice more. It was tough to look away. Really tough.

I learned a lot today, but I’m still pretty backwards on all this internet blog-savvy stuff. I’ll get there. I have friends in high places. Be patient with me.

The Informinator now has her own email address. It’s informinator@snappshots.com. If you would like to write her there, you may do so. Responses will be posted periodically on this site with answers. If you would rather skip the email step and post your questions in the Comments box, as we have done to this point, I say Hey! Let’s throw caution to the wind and do that! It’s early in the life of this blog. There are no rules yet. I don’t know what I’m doing.

To everything I asked today, she had an answer. So I will leave her with this one which both stumped me and almost stopped my heart.

Dear Informinator:

I do teach my children. We sit properly on proper facilities. We wash our hands with soap after each facility usage. And we try not discuss the topic 16 hours a day. So far, I’ve whittled the discussion time down to 13.5 hours. We’re getting there. But it’s hard to cover EVERY base. Sometimes you don’t know what small detail you’ve left out until the unthinkable occurs. Tonight, SnuggleMonkey (we’ll be changing her fuzzy little moniker after this story hits the internet) used her little potty seat and then took it into the bathroom to empty it out. I was reading a story to the other three while all of this was occurring. So I did not stop right that instant and sanitize the bowl. She returned with the bowl and set it beside her. Again, I was still reading as this was going on. Attention divided. She spat something out…loudly…we all looked up, wondering what was wrong. She looked at us and said, “Oh, I had to spit that out. I didn’t need it.”

OK. Well, I didn’t think TOO much of that, since it was excess liquid and she had spit it into the bowl where excess liquids technically go. And then she lifted it to her lips before all four of the rest of us could yell in horror, “NOOOOOOOO…” Too late. Guess she wanted that drink after all. Kids, avert your eyes! They will burn like acid with anthrax!  We scared her to death, all the “no’s” and dramatic gagging.  She’ll never try that again.

What could I have done to avoid this moment? What do I do to erase this memory and move on? What is SnuggleMonkey’s new name?

Thank you. With Man Calves and drinking problems having occurred on the same day, it is likely I will be up all night.

Sincerely yours,
missy

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4 thoughts on “An Informinator Kind of Mornin’

  1. Noooooooooooooooooooo. Ughhhhhhhhhh. YUCK. I am scared. Not scared like I saw a ghost, scared like I got hurt and it left a scar.

  2. I’m digging the new baby doll picture.
    If I was at that meeting, the agenda would’ve been out the window after seeing Mrs. Man Calves.
    No comment on the baby eating from the potty.

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