Claire's

A digital sketch for the sketchbook tonight!

Hi, all!

I'm back from New York, where I spent a fantastic weekend visiting with my new baby niece, Sarah! I can't believe that she is girl number four, including my E! Still waiting for a boy on my side of the family. She's an absolute doll. This was another weekend that I went away on my own. Mark and E went to Mark's sister's and mother's house for some extra support over the weekend.

It was a nice, relaxing trip for me -- almost too relaxing. Getting packed for the trip with a toddler "helping," was a lot on my nerves, and when I finally settled into the (too) quiet car for a four-hour journey, I didn't know what to do with myself.

I drove I89 for about a half hour, battling the Friday-evening traffic, listening to nothing but the whir of the road and cars buzzing by.

I finally reached for my phone to put on some music. Shuffle picked Young MC -- Bust a Move. Wow, have I dated myself? I mean, have I revealed my true age (cough) 30 (cough)? Not... have I ever taken myself out for a nice meal and a night of dancing to Bust a Move.

No matter how old I get, these types of songs still make me feel hip. Is it just me, or do these songs never get old, never really lose their "groove." Okay, the lyrics are... hilarious, but the beat is great, the energy makes me dance behind the wheel of my white Nissan Versa... with pink carseat in the back.

After listening to that song on repeat a few times, I was still on my I'm-So-Hip high when I stopped at the mall and headed for Claire's. Ahh, Claire's -- where afternoons as a teenager were spent picking out plastic heart earrings and barrettes. Where we sought refuge, as our high school crushes walked by with their baggy, ripped jeans and No-Fear t-shirts. I was the awkward girl hiding behind a hot-pink, feathery boa, afraid to be caught following cute guys around the mall. My more-confident best friend casually browsed the snap-bracelet bin.

Now, I wandered into Claire's as a mom. Yikes. I heard that they were the only store around that sold mood nail polish (I wanted some for myself and my nieces). I asked the girl at the counter if they had it. Her bubbly attitude, bubbly hair, bubbly gum, bangle-covered wrists, and way-too-much eyeliner made me suddenly aware of every single wrinkle, crease, and mole on my face and the fact that I felt very tired.

She chewed her gum emphatically, "Nah, we don't have that. We had it, like, years ago, but it totally clearanced out."

Clearanced? Is "clearance" being used as a verb now? What year is this?

"Oh, okay," I said, "... and how does this work?" I held up a bottle of multi-colored, layered nail polish.
"Well, you don't shake it. Every time you paint, you get a different color on your nail. So, this one might be pink." She held up her pointer finger to me, "and this one, would be, like blue." She held up her thumb.

Apparently, I looked like the type of person who needed this explained with visuals.

"Ok, thanks!" I said, as I continued to browse, "You know, I forgot all of the neat stuff that was always in this store. I used to come in as a teenager, and now I have a daughter of my own to shop for."

When I looked up to see her reaction, she was picking something out of her pink fingernail. "Oh yeah," she said, bored, distracted.

When did this happen? When did I become "not hip" and not the "awkward, almost-hip" kid. When did I not become a "kid" any more. I started to hyperventilate. Standing there in Claire's surrounded by neon pink... everything. I looked down at my outfit. I was wearing navy blue and teal.

"Okay, keep it together, Gretch," I told myself. I grabbed my multi-colored nail polish, a pair of sunglasses, and tried to checkout as fast as I could. While my items were being rung up, I reached for my phone simply out of nervous habit, opened it, and my Music app was open. It had been paused while I had taken a phone call, but now it started blaring.

You want it? You got it!
You want it? Baby... You got it (Just bust a move)!
 
In reality, the most likely thing for me to do would be to awkwardly shut off my phone (smashing my fingers into it, looking just like my grandma trying to make steamed peas in a microwave). "Gah! What the!?" Then, I would quickly grab my bag, my change, and run out of the store as fast as a 30-year-old in skinny jeans could move.

But, in my mind, and in some other dimension, I know that, when that song came on, that 19-year-old cashier would have spit out her gum, reached for my hand, and we would have danced our hearts out on the Claire's checkout desk, to a song powerful enough to bridge two generations. Pink feathers would rain down on us as boas flew through the air, and as I reached for them, bangles would fall onto my wrists, hoop earrings would grow from my ear lobes. My wrinkles would fade away, and the wind of another age would tease and crimp my hair.

And, in my mind, in that dimension, all is right with the world.