My Hasslehoff

We left for the cottage on Saturday, and returned home tonight. (Our eyes gazing over fields looking for the murderer). I was looking in the corn, the girls were looking in the wheat, and Adam had his eyes on bush lots. Adam took the girls to see an AC/DC cover band, and the man who was going to attempt to flee a Viking Death in Owen Sound. I skipped that one, the thought of burning flesh and possible misfired flaming poky things weren't my cup of tea that night. The girls were very excited, as they enjoy AC/DC, and were expecting perfection, but they were a bit disappointed. They had fun though, and it was good for them to spend some time together. I skipped it because, the vino the night before was still cursing through my veins and I won't do that again for a long time. One drink, I am tipsy, two drinks, I am chatty, three drinks, I am really gregarious, and after that, I feel like I have been dragged through a knot hole. This afternoon, Adam said, "Lisa, lets go find a bathing suit". I have been stuck on the pin up girl type. They are so retro, and sweet, I saw one online, black with little cherries. I fell head over heals in love with it. Alas, they only had extra small. (WTF?) So, after a few hours of smacking through the racks and trying stuff on, I came to a black polka dot pin up inspired type. It's not exactly the uber suit, but it was really cute. I didn't buy it. I came home empty handed because, well, the "one piece" stigma kept nagging at me. I feel guilty buying anything that is not on sale. The only thing I ever bought that was not on sale were my infamous Ugg Adirondack Otters. I do not regret the purchase, but I like to get a bang for my buck. Then I had a panic attack, I started bawling. I felt like a twit. Why would I leave a suit, that was almost what I wanted, that looked good, and would enable me to swim, sitting in a store? Maybe it was the price tag, maybe it was an excuse not to frolic in the surf, maybe it was just one of those subconscious reactions to getting something new. "Do you want me to go pick it up?" He asked. I actually started sniffling and my nose started running. Some people cry beautifully, like a nice impressionist painting, some cry ugly, I cry ultra putrid. Red spots cover my face, snot runs out of my nose, my nose expands, and my eyes go canned pea green. I remember in Drama classes, attempting to learn how to try not to cry without looking like an asshole, it doesn't work for me. "Yes" I puffed. My husband, drove back to the store, and bought the black and white polka dot bathing suit for me, and a piece of fudge for himself. How many husbands would go back to a women's clothing store, to buy a bathing suit for their wife, alone? How many husbands would willingly flip through hundreds of bikinis and one pieces giving them to the sales people for their wife to try on? How many husbands would take interest in such a task? Not many. How many husbands would not begrudge the task and put up with an angry shopping companion? That was the best gift, not the bathing suit, but the actions of Adam. Absolutely darling. We then frolicked in the lake, and I hitched a ride back with him Sponge Bob style to the second sand point. He was my Hasslehoff.