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Holiday NumbersEdit

After 2 whole helpings, 4 desserts and

3 retellings of the Thanksgiving disaster

from 6 years ago, we begged Mom

to take us shopping in the morning.

She said No but we have her composite number:

12 Pleases and she caved in,

defeated. Dad’s an 8, Grandpa’s a 6;

My sister Claire is irrational.

Early the next morning, the 5 of us,

our stomachs bulging like trapezoids,

piled into the RAV 4 and drove down

route 99 right to the Square 1 Mall.

The associative property of the mall on

Black Friday is amazing: mixed numbers

of people in huge lines are already

angling around even before 5 AM.

With all the sales, every product becomes a factor,

even the imaginary: Claire tried

to fit into size 5 jeans. I guess 70% off is

appealing when your pants are too tight.

After buying a lot of stuff we didn’t need,

we carried 8 stuffed bags to our car

parked in section 22, drove 6 blocks and

stopped at the 7-11 for gas.

When we arrived back at our house and

stumbled through the door, we were

greeted by our 3 dogs. Exhausted,

we managed 1 “Thanks, Mom.”

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