Change

So some of my readers have suggested that referring to my beloved four-year-old son as "Stalin" might be a bit harsh. Yes, Mother, I am aware that the original Stalin was responsible for the deaths of approximately 30 million people. And was BFFs with Hitler for a while. I discussed this pseudonym issue with Big Shot Husband who said, "Maybe when he's a little more civilized, you can enact a blog-perestroika and rename him." I thought this was a brilliant idea. However, I decided that instead of waiting until he's civilized, today is perestroika and my baby is now Gorbachev. Yes, mother, I know your grandson doesn't have that weird purple thing on his head.

Another change we experienced today occurred in a downtown parking garage. Zsa Zsa, Eva, Gorby and I inserted our ticket to pay for parking. "$1.50," it told me. I had $1.25. And a twenty. I sighed. I inserted the $20, realizing I'd probably get a lot of small bills in return. I did not anticipate what happened next. In the change tray, I received 10 single dollar bills and 100 pounds of change, mostly in dimes and nickles. Then another one dollar bill. I complained to Management. Management pointed to the sign through the bulletproof glass, directly over my head that read, "No Money in Office." I sighed.

I appointed Zsa Zsa and Eva official coin counters in the car on the way home. It did not bode well when I heard Zsa Zsa explaining, "This is a dime, this is nickel..." They came up with, "$8.35, I think, or something like that." I recounted at home and got $8.45. Score! I only paid 55 cents in parking. And the best part is that next time I have to pay for something at the store, I can really irk the cashier AND the person behind me.  "...1 dollar and 10, 20, 30, 40...how much do I need? $7.37?...50, 60, 70.."