Toy Joy
As I mentioned yesterday morning, the boys went out for Star Wars Midnight Madness at the stroke of midnight on July 26 and got bubkes thanks to the local Wally World's lack of...planning or awareness or foresight or whatever. To compensate for the disappointment, I encouraged them to head back out after the sun had risen on July 26 to see if the stocker had ever returned from his break.
Turns out he did--sorta. The boys didn't find too much more out on the shelves. Missing entirely were the Wally World exclusives, which is just an unbelievable act of totally dropping the ball, if you ask me. In other words, the disappointment continued.
But only briefly, for they then headed to Target as it was opening at 8 and found fully stocked shelves and toys galore. I'm happy (and hugely relieved) to report that the boy didn't end up with a sixth lightsaber. In fact, he didn't get anything. The husband, on the other hand....
I'm not sure that all the toys in this little tableau were acquired Saturday morning at target. I know for sure that the odd-looking Yoda and Obi-Wan are from a set of concept figures that was Comic-Con exclusive last year that I picked up for the husband while I was in Chicago (and had planned to give him for Pancha Ganapati but just couldn't wait that long). The boy described this little scene as a big party; Yoda brought the queso.
(And yes, Gentle Reader, it's not uncommon at Chez Boeckman-Walker to dine with Star Wars action figures set up in scenes at your elbow or taking up valuable real estate elsewhere on the table. After so many years of trying to express my frustration, I just let it be. If I can dine with my toys--my laptop, occasionally my iPod--at the table, I should let the husband have his toys at the table.)
The boys, incidentally, wound up skipping the Saturday trip to the gym. That's fine. I happily did my time with the weights and treadmill (another 7.38-mile trek) and went home. After all, we had a full afternoon planned and the boy surely needed a little quiet time at home before all the excitement.
It's a Rock. It's Round. Let's Name a Town After It!
Round Rock's one of those odd little cities in Texas that is huge but never lost its small town feel. You can build computer giants (or, rather, computer giants can build the town for you), sprawling housing community development after sprawling housing community development, minor league baseball teams, "upscale" outlet shopping centers, massive importers of build-it-yourself furniture--and yet you can't seem to take that small town feeling away. There's nothing like traveling five miles or so up I-35 and feeling like you've traveled 500+ miles up I-35 and returned to yer old stomping grounds.
But I digress. Our sojourn to Round Rock served two purposes: to honor the boy's request to celebrate his finally achieve nighttime bladder control with a trip to a small water park and to visit the aforementioned "upscale" outlet shopping center so that I could visit a few shops I'd been wanting to visit since rediscovering my kitchen. There's not much to report about the water park trip. We were there two hours in the blazing sun; the boy was able to do more this year thanks to his lessening dislike of water (helped by a pair of goggles we scored at the Target Dollar Spot); and I got in in some quality reading time on Wolves of the Calla.
After a less-than-quick refueling stop at the Sonic not too far from a miserable place where I worked briefly last summer, we moved on to the consumerist portion of our Saturday afternoon. First up, IKEA, for the husband wanted to score some of the store's delectable cinnamon rolls. Laugh if you will, Gentle Reader, but the cinnamon rolls at the IKEA are damned good and taste much like something one could make from scratch at home, not reheat in a quickie counter top oven a la Otis Spunkmeyer.
Fully refueled with a cinnamon roll (two were saved for Sunday's breakfast) and Sonic Blast treats, we got mall-ed.
The Boys Got Their Toys. Now I Get Mine.
First stop at the outlet center: Calphalon. Of course, we're greeted at the door with a four-foot stack of eight-quart Dutchies in Cabernet for a price just a wee bit cheaper than what I scored my Chive for in Chicago. But let's be honest, Gentle Reader: what the hell do I need an eight-quart Dutchie for and, more importantly, where would I store it in my already crammed kitchen? After trolling the clearance racks in the back, I found what I thought might be clearanced replacement lids for pots and pans, including one that I knew would fit a 12-inch skillet, but it lacked a price tag. After consulting with one of the clerks on duty, we learned that no, those lids were meant to go with the pots on the shelf below them, but the store did carry some replacement lids. Long story short: I scored a Calphalon lid for my dinky Chefmate copper-bottom skillet from Target for the low price of $12.50. Woohoo!
Next stop: Corning/Revere. My soul aim here was to find replacement plastic lids for my Corning casserole dishes. Found them I did (and actually have to exchange one that was too big for a second of the smallest one), along with--surprise surprise--open stock Visions pots and pans. I sincerely thought Corning had stopped making Visions, so perhaps this is old, lingering stock or I'm wrong.
The Corning/Revere outlet is next door to the Disney outlet, and we appeased a sun-drained little boy with a trip there. He found, for $4 each, a Prince Phillip sword and shield that he thought he needed initially. Then he decided no, he'd save his money for Legos. Smart boy. The FSM knows he didn't need a third sword and shield set.
Fourth stop: Nike. I have to admit that I have a love-hate relationship with Nike. I love some of its clothing (basic designs, good quality fabrics that are durable), and I hate some of its clothing (impractical designs, obnoxious color schemes or patterns, fleeting availability). I love finding the stuff I love on discount (such as the two pairs of pants I scored on clearance racks while in Chicago), but rarely do I find such things at a Nike outlet. So I went in with one goal: to get another look at the Nike+ sportsband.
Okay, Gentle Reader, I won't lie to you. I went into that Nike store with the intention of buying that sportsband if the store had it. And sure enough, it did. The clerk who got one out of the storeroom even gave me a coupon for 35% off other items (the sportsband didn't qualify since it sells for the nondiscounted price), and, well, who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? I walked out of there with a second pair of basic black crops, a deeply discounted pair of black crops with a funky-fun lime green waistband and the sportsband for a good price. Woohoo!
We then hit Harry & David so that the boy could get some gummis (which we'd hoped would shut Crank-or up because he was fading fast at that point) and had to make use of the center's facilities. Shopping with a full bladder is not fun.
Relieved, we moved on to Kitchen Connection, one of those creepy catch-all crappola stores that populate outlets and "full-price" malls. I went in just to browse, knowing full well that it wouldn't have anything out of the ordinary or, really, any bargains. In truth, outlet malls rarely have the true bargains that so many people go there seeking. The "original price" on the tags are often ridiculously jacked up so that clueless shoppers think they're getting a great price on seconds (such as the dozens and dozens of Chives and other five-quart Dutchies at the Calphalon store) or ugly-ass stuff nobody wanted and should never have been made in the first place.
But I digress. We did find something truly out of the ordinary at Kitchen Collection:
The husband loves Twinkies. I need a pan to make Emeril's version of pigs in a blanket from the boy's There's a Chef in My Soup and can't bring myself to shell out $11.99 for the cornbread stick cast iron pan from Lodge Logic that the recipe needs. In a way, all three of us got something all for the low price of $9.99. Woohoo.
And for our last stop....
Le Creuset Is in Da House!
Yes, I stopped at the Le Creuset store. And drooled. And circled the entire store two dozen times. And drooled. And was given a 35% discount coupon for any one item. And then drooled even more while bemoaning my lack of long-term employment.
I got my hands on a cast iron wok that I'm now convinced, Gentle Reader, that I need. Really. I need it.
But I left it on the shelf (for now). I instead used my coupon for a more affordable piece with the brand emblazoned on it so that I can display it with pride in my kitchen and proclaim, 
Since the husband opted not to buy the $100 AT-TE, perhaps I can convince him to spend twice that for a wok. Yeah, it could happen.
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