Mr. & Mrs. Hall visit the 'adults only' store

See, the woman up there looks all prim and proper but when you take a second look . . .


For those that are new, The Tribe Called Hall is currently relocating because of my job. We are selling our house, hence forth known as the Cedar House. Our move began with the author and kids (Pancake (6) and Mac (3)). We moved into my parent's house. Mr. Hall comes up most weekends. He has stayed behind to ready the house for sale. All this started in winter, now it is spring. Very soon it will be summer and we will be all living in the same house.

Lord, lord, it has been too long.

***************************************************
Either way, I went to the Cedar House this weekend, without the kids. It was the last haul of stuff from there. As I was unpacking, I noticed that I forgot some supplies. Marital supplies. After all, Mr. Hall and I would be alone for 14-16 hours. In our house by ourselves. DEAR GOD!!! I could make noise, gallivant around, take showers at three in the morning, do endless tequila shots. . . I was free!!! And so was Mr. Hall!! Free in the same space AT THE SAME TIME!!

Ya'll without chillins have no idea here. NO IDEA WHAT THIS MEANS! Being alone together, in a space with a bed, for even 8 hours, i.e. hotel sex- is like an elixir that'll cure any marital woe. BUT! Alone in one's house, without kids, alone in our own bed for 14-16 hours- It's the goddamn fountain of youth!

So I say to Mr. hall, we need to go to "WOMYN FIRST-NSFW" (the local feminist adult only store.) Where WOMYN come first (tee hee hee).

He says: "Uh, that store is all the way on the west side, it's like 20 minutes each way. Let's go to the Red Shop, it's five minutes from here".

FYI-The Cedar House is in a bigger city. Lots of options there. Too many options for my side of this discussion.

I say, bossily, "No, I don't wannna goo there, icky icky!! Let's just go to Womyn First. There are skinny butch lesbians working the counter who are very nice and everything is all pink." I had spoken my piece and counted to three.

He Says:

Nothing. Just kind of smiles and nods.

I think I have won.

Until we are driving and he takes a left.

"NOOO NOOO !!! I don't want to go to the Red Shoppe!!"

He pulls into the parking lot. I start to make noises of protest.

errrreeee, neeenooooo, ggrrrrreeeeiii!!!

"Look," He says softly, "We're already here, let's just go in."

I am starting to have a wee panic attack. "Nooo nooo noo!! It'll be all creepy in there!!! With sticky floors and men in trench coats!!!! Don't make me go in, puullleeaaseee!! "

He is nodding and smiling. Standing outside the passenger door. "I promise if there's men in trench coats we can leave." Still smiling and nodding. "Now come on-it'll be just fine". He opens my door.

Deep breath, holding my nose, I plunge through the front door. Bells jingle.

The smell almost knocks me to the ground. The smell of incense. Rows and rows of incense. And lots and lots of tobacco use only devices on display. Some of them were really well done. Hand blown glass, delicate etching in the glass. All sorts of miniature works of art. Here, take a look. But remember, THC only, wait, I mean tobacco.



Guess which one isn't a 'tobacco only' device?

We go to another area. Floor to ceiling products, all manner of supplies. There is a goth kid laying sideways on the floor, hanging fake appendages in clear plastic boxes. I feel very lightheaded.

We peruse. I am walking very fast. Not really looking, yet trying to look like none of this is a big deal. Mr. Hall makes a comment. "This is so much better than buying online. You can examine the goods."

This is a common complaint with Mr. Hall, about buying things online. I like to see and touch what I am buying, he often says. This is what he's thinking, he is being thoughtful about the quality of the products. Being thoughtful about the advantages of buying things in a store versus online. This IS WHAT HE'S THINKING. BECAUSE THIS IS THE MIND OF MR. HALL.

What am I thinking?

I am spazzing out. Trying to be less dizzy. Trying not to hyperventilate. Trying to blend. No one is in the store but us and the goth kids. Loud goth music, complete with naughty words and death metal undertones, is piped overhead. Reasonable volume though. I am trying to be a duck. Calm on the surface but kicking like hell underneath.

Eventually all of me calms. I wander over to the "bachelorette party supplies". There are tiny chocolate manhoods, tiny manhood straws, faux boobie shot glasses. I start to wax poetic about my bachelorette party. It was such fun, we went salsa dancing, I wore a makeshift veil around town and my first Victoria's Secret dress. I was just learning how to curl my hair and look very pretty. There was a list of things I had to do that night. A naughty scavenger hunt prepared by my maid of honor and bridesmaids.

I exchanged underwear with a complete stranger. (The guy had plaid boxers, navy blue). I carried a sports bottle in the shape of a large black willy the entire night. I had shrimp tacos for the first time. I got a kiss on the cheek by a male stranger. And I got very very wasted by my friends. I smoked a cigarette for the first time in three years. I was so very very wasted. We went to so many different places, clubs, bars, walking downtown. All while I walked in heels for the first time. Oooh such fun!!! So drunk and giggly!!! Showing my engagement to everyone who asked. So much fun. And so drunk.

But, that was over eight years ago. The next day I was bumbled and bruised and threw up for 3 days. And I was walking funny.

Been walking funny the last two days too. But no, no booze or shrimp tacos involved.

Just lots and lots of fun. ;)