"I forgot my key."

That's what usually happens to our young Miss C about every ten days or so..... she forgets her house key, so she will come over here after school until her mother gets home from work. Co-incidence or not?

Yesterday was one of those days, and C was here after school and came with me on a couple of errands.... then had a little bite of dinner with us (saving room for some dinner with her mom), and then I drove her home.

One of the errands was driving to SteinMart to pick up a cute little egg slicer that I had seen there last week. How cute can an egg slicer be? Well, picture one round wire egg slicer that has a little chicken's face at the top and little chicken's feet at the bottom. You just look at it and it makes you smile.

I had seen those at SteinMart when I was there last week, and didn't buy them. I thought I had an egg slicer here already (which I don't-- guess I haven't sliced any eggs lately). The chicken-faced egg slicers would have been perfect Easter favor-gifts, but we're not hosting an Easter dinner this month. So I didn't buy them last week, even though I thought they were just adorable.

Yesterday, my cousin L called from NY to say hello, and she got to talking about eggs and egg slicers, and she told me that she had been searching the stores in her neighborhood, looking for a simple egg slicer. No one had them, and half of the stores didn't know what she was talking about when she described the round circle of metal strips that made slicing an egg so easy.

So there was L on the phone, asking me if I had any suggestions for her as to where she could find an egg slicer. I told her to stop looking for one, that I had seen cute little egg slicers right here, and I would go back to the store and get them and mail one to her. Well, how cute can an egg slicer be? she asked me. I told her to trust me..... that I was sending her the cutest one of all.

Which is what took me to SteinMart yesterday afternoon, with Miss C... I bought her an egg slicer as well, being that she's the Princess of Cute, plus she loves hard-boiled eggs. While we were in SteinMart yesterday, C found a cute little purse in the shape/color of a puppy-- so realistic that when she was holding the purse in the store, three other customers thought she had a real puppy in her arms. That settles it, I told her..... if she wanted the purse, I would buy it for her.

C still has five "birthday coupons" from her 16th birthday that I had given to her last year. Each of the sixteen coupons was for a different gift, and the reason she has five left over is because those five were for driving lessons--- that I couldn't follow through with because our car insurance doesn't cover anyone under the age of 25. So I had told C that she could redeem those driving coupons for anything else within reason (with myself being the voice of reason).

So there was my 17-year-old Miss C yesterday, with this cute puppy purse in her hands, loving it as if it were a real puppy. Seventeen or not, there's a lot of little girl left in Miss C. Which isn't a bad thing.

On the way home from SteinMart, C was talking about western boots, and how badly she wanted a "real" pair, not a cheap pair from one of the shoe outlets. That conversation got me to thinking... I have two pairs of real (translation: expensive) western boots. The darker pair is my favorite, and they're so comfy and beautiful that I know they'll last me forever. The lighter pair is a slightly different style, more pointed and less comfy, and I don't want to wear them anymore because I don't want to repeat last year's foot problems.

Before driving to C's house on the way home yesterday, we came back here and I took those light colored western boots out of the back of my closet. I gave C a pair of thick white socks and told her to try them on. Are you serious?!?!?!?! Yes I am.... try them on.

They weren't exactly a perfect fit, because her shoe size is one size smaller, but with the white socks, and the likelihood of her growing into them, they were perfect enough for her to love them. She pranced around in front of our full-length mirrors in the dressing room... then she walked around our breakfast room and kitchen so she could hear the sound of the western heels on the tiles, and she wore them home, tossing her sneakers into her book-bag. She was one happy little cowgirl. I explained to C that they were indeed expensive, and that she shouldn't plod through muddy fields. She assured me that she wouldn't consider such a thing with those beautifully stitched and patterned boots. Yeeeee-haaaaahhhh!!!!!

We're taking Miss C out for dinner next week, to celebrate her birthday, which was last week. (We always keep our celebration second to anything her parents have planned for her.) C's choice was dinner at one of the largest Oriental restaurants here (she can use chopsticks better than most people can use a fork). We'll take her there for dinner, then to La Madeleine for dessert, then we're coming back here to color some eggs for Easter.

Before we drove into the subdivison yesterday, I pulled into a local gas station and asked Miss C to fill my car up with gas. She giggled and laughed, and couldn't believe that I've never pumped gas into my own car. There's still just one service station here (across from the Johnson Space Center) that has a man there who will pump gas for women such as myself who prefer not to do it. I told Miss C that I typically go there for gas, but it was too late in the evening yesterday to be driving on NASA Road One... too much traffic pouring out of the Space Center at that time.

So there we were yesterday, with my little car sitting in front of the gas pumps, and C was giving me a step-by-step lesson in how to pump gas. She pressed all the buttons and held the hose as the gas poured into my car, and about the only thing I did myself was to put my credit card into the machine. After the receipt came out of the pump, and before we got back into my car, she gave me a big hug and told me that she was certain I could fill the car up myself if I had a mind to. We sat in the car and laughed again, saying that there was probably a man sitting inside the service station, watching us and wondering why we hugged each other after my car was filled up with gas. "It's a chick thing," said C.

With everything else going on at the moment, all this fun stuff with Miss C is saving my sanity.