Target, naughty dogs and billboards

This afternoon I managed to get out for my twice monthly trip to Target. See, there isn't a Target anywhere near my house, so for me to get up there, I've got to plan a whole day around it. Not that it's that far away, but Spokanites has this strange mentality about leaving our own part of town...

I live on the South Hill. The two Targets are on The North Side and in The Valley. While it only takes about 15 minutes to get to either location, it feels like a cross-country jaunt to me. We're pretty provincial, I guess.

Anyway, I did my Target run, which didn't feel particularly successful, since I couldn't buy cold medicine (the pharmacy was closed and heaven knows we don't want the wrong people to get ahold of the Nyquil) and I couldn't find the right sized covered garbage can for the bathroom. I hate it when I can't cross every item off my list. An unfinished list feels like failure. And means I have to somehow remember to look for those items elsewhere. Which means I probably need to go to Walmart. And I hate Walmart. So all in all, it wasn't my normal blissful afternoon of Target shopping.

I need a covered garbage can for the bathroom because Gracie always gets in there and eats the Kleenex out of the trash. And then (skip to the next paragraph if you don't like hearing about bodily functions) when she poops, the Kleenex comes out like a twisted rope which dangles from her butt while she runs frantically around the backyard trying to get it to fall off. While it's hilarious to watch, after the $100 sponge-eating incident, I'd like to avoid any sort of Kleenex-rope-removing surgical procedures should she wind up with one that ends up twisting around vital organs or something tragic like that. We try to keep the bathroom door closed to keep her from getting to the garbage, but invariably, someone forgets and she is like lightning running in there and smacking up the tissue treats. Naughty dog.

On the way home from Target, I saw a billboard advertising tryouts for the Spokane Shock dance team. Now, I have no idea who Spokane Shock is. We already have a WHL hockey team and a minor league baseball team. Maybe it's arena football. Seems like maybe I heard about getting a team here for that. But all that is beside the point. The point, you'll be amused to hear, is that for a brief second, I actually entertained the thought of auditioning. This is scary on several points.

• First, I am thirty-freaking-seven years old. I don't think I'm exactly what they're looking for.
• Second, while I was once a buxom DD cup, my current very average B cups probably wouldn't impress the judges or the fans.
• Third, while I was a cheerleader in highschool for three years, I really am a terrible dancer. Terrible. No rhythm.
• And last, I'm thirty-seven. What was I thinking?

Here's what I was thinking. (And what I find myself thinking every week as I watch American Idol...) I still think of myself as this very young, perky, full of energy, talented young thang who can take on the world. I pretty much think I could pull it off (in the very raw state of my unconscious thoughts.) Obviously, I know better. But in those split second reactions, I see a billboard for dance team tryouts and I respond like I'm still in a place where that would be a possibility. Same with Idol - I'm just sure I could go on there and rock Simon's world. (Bwa-haa-haa!!!)

What the heck is up with that?

I can't really explain it.

But I guess as long as I don't actually act on those instant gut reactions, I'm not hurting anyone with my ridiculous fantasies... except for my pride now that I've let you in on my little secret.

Be kind to me... surely I'm not the only one who entertains silly thoughts like these, am I?