Having SO MUCH FUN with my sister. We went to the fancy mall in Tampa. There, of all things, was Bailey, Banks and Biddle . . . GOING OUT OF BUSINESS. Say it ain't so! B, B & B's name alone is reason enough to require it stay in business forever. Come on, what store has a snappier name than that? And they've been around since 1832, internationally famous and all the rest, an American institution, it's just sickening. I talked to the man, he's sick, too, says too many buyouts and the latest owner couldn't swing it. Rats. Well, of course I had to use my Christmas money in there, Laura helped me pick out the tiniest diamond earrings. They looked invisible on the velvet, but in my ear they somehow appeared much larger, tricky, eh? That's the way jewelry works on me, I simply cannot carry off substantial pieces. Mike should be glad because I am forced to buy the teensy stuff, which of course costs less, the average size stuff looks absurd on me, it swallows me. I don't even wear jewelry to speak of, I just like a couple of classic pieces, don't you? At 60% off, what's to stop me? There was a notice that stated some of the jewelry was not actually B, B & B, but was bought from other retailers to add to the B, B & B FINAL SALE. So, when all is said and done I don't know if I have official B, B & B earrings or not, but I BOUGHT them there, so that's good enough for this old girl. Now I can say I own something from B, B & B, even if it's only diamond dust dots, at least that's the general idea, which until tonight was not the case.

The second I emerged from B, B & B, I was accosted by the Dead Sea young woman, there she was, in my face. You know, the gang from Israel that sells marvelous products from their kiosk for $300, But for YOU, my Lovely, because you're so special (think the witch in Hansel and Gretel), a mere $149. I just can't handle it. I walked off with a couple little somethings that depleted the remainder of my Christmas money and then some. Don't tell Mike. I was going to spend my Christmas money on new pots and pans . . . well, that noble plan just crash landed. Mike likes my earrings but he's afraid I will also march ahead with my pots 'n pans plan. But I am not that brazen. I will be much more discreet and buy a pot here and a pan there as the months slide by and sales crop up. After all, does Mike really want me draining pasta with a pot that has a loose handle?? I didn't think so.

Oh, the girl from Israel, she was so charming, so beautiful, so persuasive. I tell you what, Israelis are the best sales people IN ALL THE WORLD, BAR NONE. They also lie through their teeth, I can promise you that. I have to form a trick to avoid the Dead Sea people. Once I complained at the guest desk in the mall that I was afraid to walk the end of the mall where was stationed a certain kiosk. The lady said, You mean the Dead Sea kiosk? Oh baby, that was not so hard to figure out, was it? Hmm, let's see, how can I do this. So far, with the greatest of resolve, I have failed at three malls. Not a total failure, of course, because the products truly are unique and they do deliver. And I admire the verve of the Israelis, stand in awe of it actually, wishing I had a sliver of it. At the same time, the whole situation is completely galling. Avoiding eye contact when I pass by, that seems pathetic. I'm going to have to put some thought into this, because I simply cannot afford to be sucked in one more time. But you know what, I splurged because I've never had a real career but have practiced volunteerism my whole life. I just feel GOOD when I treat myself once in a while. I remember at a music camp in Pennsylvania where I waitressed one summer, my friend and I were boasting to a counselor guy how we worked as counselors at another camp for several years and at the end of the month our "pay" was a night out in Winter Park, which consisted of a dinner out and then Elephant Ears. He laughed himself silly, Oh, so you worked for FREE?? Yep, that's right and I've done it ever since, more or less. If I get swindled into buying Dead Sea stuff because they tell me I'm special (and weak in the sales resistance department, no, not weak, DEAD), then so be it. Maybe I deserve exotic eye serum. That's right, you heard me. Walking off swinging a pale green sack makes me feel REALLY STUPID. But I get over it soon enough. And, incidentally, she tried to sell me more, at a huge discount that she couldn't let her manager see, but I said, No, Senorita. I will give credit that she didn't scowl me to the scorn and we parted on friendly terms. I should sincerely hope so.

'Til next time . . . which I mean by that next blog, not next Dead Sea Disaster, but this is questionable because Laura and I are headed back to the mall soon, so I had better think hard and fast how to weasel by my most hated favorite place so there indeed is not a next time for THAT . . . KEM