how to sell jeans. . .eventually

So, I know I promised this a few, um, days weeks ago, so here goes for anyone still hanging around. . .

Background: Kevin was working in Shreveport. I went to visit, and Kev encouraged me to go shopping. . .My first stop was Cavendar's Western Wear, where I planned to purchase a pair of boots (I last purchased boots when I was 15. . .), a pair of jeans, and maybe a nice shirt to wear out that night.

The Cavendar's employee approached me just as I managed to knock over a display of boots. (Oh, yes I did!) The employee shall henceforth be referred to as CG (Cavendar's Girl). CG asked if I needed any help. Considering the last time I purchased boots and jeans, I was essentially a small person lighter, I thought another opinion might be helpful. After picking up the boot boxes and deciding on a pair to buy, CG asked what size jeans I wear. I answered xy.*

Her response?

"Oh, I don't think so. You don't look like an xy to me. You look smaller."

Although I appreciated her improvement as to my physical size and shape, I assured her I was, in fact, an xy. . .

so she brought me a size xu to try on. . .

and I couldn't get it past my knees.

She tried again with a size xx,

which was, of course, too small.

So, she finally returned with a size xy,

which was also too small. . .

To which she responded,

"OK, now you're my personal mission, and I will find you a pair of jeans that fits!"

And she did. . .

after approximately 45 minutes and untold pairs of jeans. I'm extremely satisfied with the fit of the jeans she sold me, and you can't argue with the personalized service; however, when a pleasantly plump woman announces she's a size xy, you should never, ever doubt that she's at least that size. . .

*and you're crazy if you think I would allow my size to be posted on the internet. . . : )

Goodbye Shreveport

Kev's work in Louisiana appears to be over. Here are some things I'll miss about Shreveport.

1. Shreveport is a city full of friendly people from a variety of backgrounds. Unfortunately, it appears to have an identity crisis. It's not really big enough to be a big city, but it's much bigger than a big town. I guess it's a small city. It's in the corner of Louisiana, with some Cajun-ness, but also a lot of Southern and Texan personality thrown in. I guess that's why it's doubled as so many cities in movies.
2. needing to use my Southern dialect versus my Redneck/Hick dialect in order to be understood, which I'm proficient at thanks to a father from Pine Bluff, Arkansas. . .
3. seeing Washaterias. My father always called laundry mats washaterias, but I've never seen them called that elsewhere. . .
4. The food: steaks at Saltgrass (amazing!!), burgers at Whattaburger (yummy!), breakfast with *free* entertainment at Waffle House (including the guy with the money safety-pinned to his apron. . .), and various seafood munchies thrown in. [sigh]
5. The hair cut lady at the mall. Her name is Kamey, and she cut my hair, Kev's hair, and Kyler's hair, and did a phenomenal job each time.
6. listening to books on tape. I never do this at home, but it's such an easy way to entertain on the road.
7. shopping. Believe it or not, I actually enjoyed buying things for me and the kids when we were in Louisiana.
8. The sales people at Cavendar's Western Wear. . . story forthcoming, I promise.

What I won't miss about Shreveport. . .

1. The sales people at Cavendar's Western Wear. . .see above.
2. the lack of family entertainment. We're not casino people, and there's not a lot for kids to do in Shreveport.
3. educating my son on the ways of the world, which are significantly absent or at least well hidden in Paradise. . .
4. The drive.
5. especially if driven with 2 tired, cranky kids. . .
6. Enough Said.

Soon enough, we'll be on to our next adventure. Who knows where Kev will be working next, so be on the lookout for our wild bunch in a city near you. (OH, the horror! Can you imagine seeing our bunch in your neighborhood blue giant store? I can assure you that we're every bit as loud and crazy in person. . .)