Black Friday

I am no longer a virgin.  A 'Black Friday' virgin that is.


Yes, even I am perplexed as to how I’ve managed to miss the fun all these years, the best I can figure is the following timeline:


In the early years… I was too broke to take advantage of the good deals.


Once I started making some jack... I was probably too hung-over to make the early morning call.


After babies came along… I was way too friggin exhausted to get up exactly four hours after I went to bed.


Then for years, when our kids got a little older… we would hit the road for Thanksgiving with relatives in faraway places, (think Great Bend, Wichita… you know, the exotic spots) and all I could do was salivate in the car over the tempting ads as we drove further and further away from the deals.


This is the first year in many that we are actually in town for Black Friday. So I gobbled up those ads yesterday morning before I even gave thought to gobbling the bird. I have one big-ticket item in mind for someone special and Target had a hell of a deal. “Tar-jhay” it would be.


11:30p.m. last night: I lay out sweatpants, sweatshirt and Uggs for easy a.m. access.


3:10a.m.: I reach over and turn the alarm off before it actually goes off; my anticipation/dread of the task ahead had my internal alarm clock go off over an hour earlier. Little did I know (being a virgin and all) that the extra hour would have been better spent in line at Target, than fretting in bed.


3:20a.m.: I finally rouse my sorry arse out of bed and into my shopping fatigues, fantasizing about the extra large cup of Joe I’ll soon have my chilly fingers wrapped around thanks to Mickey D’s.


3:30a.m.: Oh. No. Say it ain’t so. McDonalds doesn’t open until 6a.m.??? Are they crazy? What lame brain in marketing didn’t realize there would be hoards of people hitting the roads at this hour in search of bargains? A large cup of Joe for a buck is about as good a bargain as you can get these days and the powers that be at the Golden Arches missed it? I seriously contemplate going home at this point.


3:45a.m.: Holy Moly! The parking lot is jammed. Something tells me these people are not in line for the $18 Toy Story Twin bedding set. These folks are serious; it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what most of them are here for. I actually trot through the parking lot… (The first clue I have truly lost my mind.)


3:50a.m.: I finally arrive at the back of the line. Naively, I went to the front door first. From there I was directed around the south side of the building. My already shortened breath (remember, I was trotting!) was further challenged when I realized the line rivaled that of the Garth Brooks concert I stood in a few years back. When I got to what I mistakenly thought was the end of it, I was directed to take a right, which now put me on the west side of the building near the loading docks. I probably would have left at that point and headed back home to bed, but I needed a rest from all that exercise.


Waiting in line turned out to be quite fascinating. First off… people come in pairs, groups even; I was definitely in the minority being alone. That said, I would never do that to a friend… between the obnoxious time of day and the lack of caffeine flowing through my bloodstream, no one deserves that wrath. But people were jovial… laughing, sharing stories about Black Fridays of past. The gal in front of me even recognized a woman she got into a scuffle with at Toys R Us yesterday because she “cut in line”!!! Man did that get the crowd going… other line-mates wanted her to point the woman out, this is serious business and line cutting is apparently among the worst of the offenses you can commit. (Note to self: How do hard-core BFer’s view “paying-off” someone at the front of the line? Worth investigating.)


The man behind me spotted a woman limping through the line on crutches. He actually starts chastising her for trying to pull that one over on the crowd. “Yeah lady, we’re all buying your broken leg act. I’ve got my grandma up here with her walker… Shhhh Grannie... I’ll change your diaper later, as soon as you thump yourself back to the toy department and get Sara that doll house”. Honest to Pete, could I make this up?


4:00a.m.: And we’re off. The line is moving swiftly, it almost makes me glad to be in the back.  I hear a lot of hootin and hollerin up front and suddenly remember last year’s bone-crushing Wal-Mart video. Sometimes it's good to be late to the party I guess.


4:03a.m.: After securing a cart, which I am very proud of… I commit another virgin faux pas. The TV’s are not in the electronics department folks. Noooooooooo… this particular TV is in the Sporting Goods Department; how did everyone but me know that?


4:04a.m.: Panic is setting in. People all around me have my stinkin TV in their carts. I plead with a woman to tell me where she found it. “Oh they’re all gone,” she tells me quite bragadociously. “They only had 40, that’s why I camped out at 11p.m. last night.


“Sweet Jesus” I think to myself. I cannot believe I fell for this trick. I am now standing in the middle of a Target at four in the friggin morning with an empty cart and no plan. None. I don’t know and I don’t care what else they have. All I know is I got shut out on what I came here for!


4:05a.m.: I spy with my little eye another item in someone’s cart that I remember having an interest in for the boy child. “Well, at least I can get that” I told myself and headed back toward the woman’s department; the nice woman who had already secured one told me where they were hidden. As I’m putting it in my cart, I notice a feeding frenzy going on in the next aisle… this, I now know… is how they hook ya!


4:07a.m.: I whip out my debit card at the register as a thoughtful Target employee helps me maneuver my new FORTY-SIX inch 1080p LCD HD TV for the cashier to scan. My heart is still racing and I am fearful to look back at the crazed crowd I just barely escaped. I keep seeing that man’s face who made the fatal mistake of hesitating before claiming the last TV! I am sure he too was there for the 32 incher that was priced a hundred bucks less, but hey dude… this is Black Friday, he who hesitates…


4:17a.m.: I slip back into my still warm jammies, shove the dog out of my spot on the bed and try to settle back into dreamland. Mike suddenly startles me by asking “Did you get it”? “Get what?” I sheepishly reply, shocked that he’s awake. “The TV… did you get the TV?” “Um… yeah”, I say somewhat misleadingly… “I got a TV”. “Good… that will be a big hit.” he muttered as he drifted back to sleep.


I like to think this will be my first and last experience with Black Friday; although no longer a virgin, its never too late to practice abstinence! I have an uneasiness in my belly; I feel kind of dirty. Not only is there some nice man crawling back into his bed having to confess to his wife that he “didn’t” get a TV because he was outwitted by a Black Friday virgin, I also felt as if I sold out to over-consumption. And the worst part is how easily I caved; my budget, the specs according to wall space in the room… all of it gave way to the chaos we in America call… Black Friday.


So maybe next year I can make it right. I will leave Consumption at home and bring its first cousin Capitalism with me instead. I will set-up a coffee cart and peddle enough Joe to desperate under-caffeinated over-consuming shoppers, so I can afford to pay full price for next year’s “must have” item.  And hopefully… that will include shipping it right to my warm and cozy front door!

TC loved... (Part 2)

Pumpkin Pie with homemade whipped cream.
Decorating her entire house for Christmas.
Keeping old family stories and memories alive.
Kacee, Ashley and Dakoda James.
A good practical joke.
Any day that her car would start.
Going to the Boat with Mom, to play the nickel slots.
Wheat Harvest day, behind her house.
Devil Dogs, Yoo-hoo’s and Mallomars from Dad.
A roaring wood fire on a cold winter’s day.
Rock N’ Roll bands from the 70’s.
Her long phone calls to Toby in Ireland.
Treating Jordie and Nick to a ‘Skyscraper’ at Windsteads.
Black Friday shopping.
And me.


You left us three years ago today Teece…
and it still hurts like it was yesterday.

I love you.

Surprise!!!

We had a great evening this past Saturday. It was my friend Suzie’s surprise 50th birthday party and we pulled it off without a hitch. Great friends, lots of laughs and as an added bonus, we were in Lawrence: God’s country.



We wrapped things up around 11p.m., dropped our friend Diane off on our way home and pulled in our driveway just before midnight. Mikey had mentioned a few minutes earlier that our timing was perfect since we would be getting home right around Jordan’s curfew. At seventeen (going on twenty-eight), we always visit with her when she gets home from a night out just to make sure things are on the up and up. Boy Howdy!


Beating her home by just a few minutes, I ran up and put my jammies on before coming back down to wait for her with Mike while catching some late-night TV. And that folks was the beginning of the end of our peaceful, easy evening…


12:05a.m.: I am annoyed. Back in the day… we were smart enough to beat our curfew by a few minutes; call it common courtesy. And besides, it kept the rents happy and was no skin off our nose… as long as our nose was fairly clean!


12:10a.m.: I am pissed. Really Jordan? Ten minutes late and no phone call or text; my inner chatterbox is taking away privileges as fast as I can think of them.


12:15a.m.: Because we “Sprint family mapped” her and saw that she was very close to home, I deduced she was at our backdoor neighbor’s house… home of her “college friend” who is back for Thanksgiving break. Fury is fast approaching and when I share my suspicion with Mike, he drives off in the car to fetch her sorry-ass up!


12:20a.m: Mike returns sans Jordan. There is no sign of life going on over there he informs me and I should map her again. Same friggin result. I am certain at this point there is some illicit partying going on down in their basement and I am ready to live up to my reputation as “Mama-Buzz kill”. White-pages dot com and presto, I have their home number to call.


Mikey makes the call, it goes something like this: “Hi Mr. Back-door neighbor, this is Jordan’s dad, Mike. I apologize for calling at this late hour and waking you, but can you tell me if Jordan is over at your house? No? Well is Kelly home? Yes? Would you mind waking her up and letting me talk to her, we can’t locate Jordan, she is not answering any of our texts or phone calls and we are very concerned... this is out of character for her.” About a minute later… “Hi Kelly, this is Mike Baker. Do you know where Jordan is?” She did not, and Mike asked her to please call regardless of the time if she hears anything, yada-yada.


12:25a.m.: I am vibrating, I am so mad. Mike is rattling things off like, “Tomorrow morning we take the Landcruiser and park it at my office, she has NO car starting NOW! Do NOT buy her ANYTHING for six months… I mean nothing! She’s going to JuCo!” Suffice it to say we were both of the same mindset, and it was less than pleasant.


12:30a.m.: Sirens. Loud sirens. Getting closer kind of sirens.   I am immediately paralyzed by fear; all my anger leaves me and is replaced with prayer. Out loud, down on my knees prayer.


12:35a.m.: Slight meltdown as sirens continue. Not crying, but definitely pacing and freaking out. I have such a strong feeling that something is very, very wrong… that I actually go take my jammies off and put clothes back on.


12:40a.m.: Messages and texts left on Jordie’s phone no longer have anger or consequences in them, just pleads to call us: “You are not in trouble baby, we are worried sick, please, please call, we’ll come get you.”


12:45a.m.: White-pages.com supplies me with yet another much needed landline number. “Hello Mr. B? This is Chris Baker, Jordan’s mom. I am so sorry to wake you at this hour but is Jordan over there? No? Is Ana home? What time did she get home? Wow, a few minutes after eleven, would you mind waking her up so I can find out if she has any idea where Jordan might be? Thank you so much.”


A minute or so goes by and I hear Mr. B talking softly to Ana. “Well when was the last time you saw or heard from Jordan, Ana”, I heard him ask. I struggled to hear her sleepy answer…


Wait for it… wait for it…


“When I dropped her home a little before 11p.m.”...


Oh. My. God.

OMG, OMG, OMG… It never friggin occurred to us to look in her bedroom. I thanked Mr. B, told him we would keep them posted then ran to Jordie’s room. I could make out a lump in the bed through the darkness and started screaming to Mike… “She’s home, she’s home, she’s home!”


“Where? What do you mean?” he says.

“She is sound asleep in her bed!” I yelled.


I don’t think his feet hit one stair on the way up. He flicked on her light and clearly relieved, yelled (in his big-boy voice)…. “JORDAN!" Her sleeping blue eyes popped wide open and without moving her head so much as an inch, they darted back and forth from Mike to me and back to Mike. “What?” she said quietly, obviously confused.

Absolute dead silence followed. I mean really… that was the million-dollar question… “what?”. It seemed as if time stood still when Mikey finally muttered, “Did you have a good time tonight”?


1. a.m.: We kiss the little darling goodnight, tell her to sleep tight and slink backwards out of her room; we cannot even look at each other. “A plan, a plan, we need a plan” I finally plead with him. “No way” he says. This is a bus-chucking moment and I am chucking you under it; dog-eat-dog baby, you should have checked her bed”.


1:02a.m.: I pop an ambien, hoping this whole mess might elude Jordan from ever finding out what freakazoids she has for parents.


5:30a.m.: “DAD… what the heck is going on? I have 72 missed calls and about a million text messages, everyone is asking where I am and if I’m ok.” Apparently, our little over-reaction the night before went viral. We’re lucky there wasn’t a damn Amber Alert!


I pry my eyes open as the pit in my stomach returns for an encore.  I struggle to read the clock and when my fuzzy eyes finally focus, I realize… it was exactly twelve hours ago that our evening of fun began. So in keeping with the spirit of the night, I look at Jordan and say… “Surprise”!!!


And one more MOTY award slips away…