The Hunt for Stitch

STITCH!  I love Stitch.  Stitch from Disney's Lilo and Stitch.  He is experiment 626.  A wee alien who crash lands to earth and makes friends with orphan Lilo.  He is full of mischief and chaos but also love.  I love him and have much Stitch paraphernalia around the house.  So imagine my excitement when Lego announced that they were releasing Disney MiniFigures, one of which is Stitch! 

My immediate response - "I NEED HIM!"

So began the plans for the hunt for Stitch.  RAF boy is a massive Lego fan and his skills are immediately employed.  A plan is drawn up.  First, we shall head for the Lego store.  It will be a difficult journey, comprising of public transport and many people meandering around the streets, moving at the speed of glaciers and stopping dead for no apparent reason.  We need to prepare for this.  Then we shall enter the Lego store, attack (squash) many packs of minifigures until Stitch is found.  Go home triumphant.  

STAGE ONE:  We ensure we have relevant tickets for public transport, fill RAF boy full of sedatives to ensure he doesn't kill people for walking slowly or stopping dead in front of him, make sure we have a happy song to sing to keep us from getting frustrated, plan the quickest and easiest route to the store.  

Public transport was easy peasy with us chatting happily as we traveled along.  There were laughs and smiles, hugs and a little kiss (awwww) and the world was like a lovely Disney film.  I was happy and completely sure that everything was going to be fine.  Then we arrived in town and the walk began.  

Suddenly it was like being in a zombie movie.  People shuffling around, moaning and groaning.  We were surrounded, they were trying to kill us by herding us into the road in front of oncoming traffic.  They were attacking us with zombie babies in buggies, by ramming them into our heels.  There was Mickey Mouse brandishing balloon swords at people.  Let me just say, he will never brandish a balloon sword at me again.  Perhaps it was me that needed the sedatives.

RAF boy, even though full of sedatives, is barely containing his rage at the slow zombies and ponders on whether it is a kindness to let them continue in such a state.  We discuss this as we walk up the street and decide that everyone, even zombies, deserve to be allowed to continue as they are.  It keeps us out of trouble and no, pushing them up or down the escalators is not an acceptable, helpful nor sociable thing to do.  

STAGE TWO:  The Lego shop!  We arrive and RAF boy warms up his fingers.  First we must get past the overly cheerful greeter.  Done.  Second, locate the minifigures.  Done.  Third, proceed with the squashing of many bags to attempt to find Stitch.  At first, I feel a bit cheeky, especially as the assistants are watching us, but I soon get into it.  I start squashing. Um....round thing.  "That's the head Red" says RAF boy whilst he squashes a bag.  I'm struggling.  I don't know what Lego heads and ears and legs feel like!  Suddenly RAF boy makes a sound of triumph.  He's eagerly squashing a bag and getting me to feel.  Yup, feels like lumps of plastic. He is 99% certain that he has found Stitch.  He swaggers over to the till and pays for it and then, with a big grin, hands it over to me.  The boy's done good and I'm bouncing with excitement.  

All the excitement has left me parched so we go for a cup of tea, coffee and cake and I excitedly start tearing at the pack, trying to release Stitch.  Unfortunately for me, the pack is being a sod and won't open.  RAF boy grins at me as I argue with the wrapping and gently takes it out of my hands and with one smooth movement, opens it.  How does he do that?  

He hands it back to me and I open it and I find.......

Mickey Mouse.  I was a little bit disappointed but still happy, I have a Disney MiniFigure.  RAF boy, however, was not happy.  So sure was he of his skill and ability that to discover he had found the mouse did not make him happy.  

We considered going back to try again but after all the excitement we decided not to.  We made the decision to come back another day.  

Second attempt.

So, following the previous battle plan but this time, ensuring that we had both taken enough sedatives to take down an elephant, we go back to the Lego shop.  We again begin squashing the bags and trying to find Stitch.  I'm trying really hard to work out what I have in each bag.  I find, we think, two ducks and a couple of minifigures from the Invincibles.  Then, I get excited.  "I think I've found Buzz" I exclaim.  RAF boy had previously said that he would like Buzz. He takes the pack out of my hand and squashes it, then, with an impressed grin, nods in agreement.  We place it to the side and continue squashing bags.  "Found him!" declares RAF boy.  He takes longer, really squashing the bag, picturing what he's feeling and nods.  "I'm 80% certain this is Stitch" he says.  We replace the other bags and I skip up to the till with the two bags.  Again, we go for a drink and cake and open our packets.  RAF boy opens his first and finds.....

Yay me!  I got it right and worked out that I had indeed found Buzz.  Now my turn.  RAF boy is feeling nervous.  He's sure it's Stitch but after last time. It looks like he's almost contemplating praying that it's Stitch.  He opens the pack for me and excitedly I look in and I find.......

At this point, I cannot repeat what RAF boy said other than the air turned blue and my hair curled and greyed somewhat.  I was happy.  Now Mickey has his partner so he's not going to feel lonely.  

RAF boy finishes his coffee and gets up.  "Come on Red, we're going to find Stitch if it's the last thing I do".  Back to the store we trudge.  The assistant looks at us and smiles.  "Didn't find it, eh?"  I grin back though RAF boy looks like he's about to stuff Lego bricks up the assistants nose for stating the obvious.  We begin squashing packs.  We find more mice, more ducks, more invincibles, the Toy Story aliens and suddenly.....I feel a massive head and tiny legs.  Could it be?  My pulse quickens.  Yes, there's a round head, massive ears, no beak or long nose.  I hand it over to RAF boy.  He takes it and starts squashing.  Minutes tick by.  I'm holding my breath.  "Yes, I think it is.  There's the wee knick in his ear, his head is big and round, there's little legs.  Yes, I think you've found him Red" he grins.  I grab the pack and run up to the till.  The assistant grins at me. "Be back in five will you?" he smirks.  I resist shoving bricks into face and just smile sweetly back, though it might have been slightly menacing as he suddenly paled and hurriedly handed over the minifigure.  We dashed outside the store and sat on the bench directly outside.  RAF boy, again opened the pack for me but went to take a peek!  One swift slap on his hands and he thought better of it.  I opened the pack and peered in.  RAF boy held his breath.  My face dropped and a little moan escaped my lips. RAF boy rolled his eyes and again the air turned blue.  I pulled out the minifigure for him to see, with sadness in my eyes.  

STITCH!  WE FOUND STITCH!  I got a light hearted slap off RAF boy for scaring him like that.  He had been preparing to go back into the store.  Finally, I had Stitch.  I practically skipped all the way home.  

It took us a couple of attempts but together we did it.  Please be aware and take comfort that no zombies or assistants were hurt during the Hunt for Stitch.

 Now though, the burning question, should we attempt to complete the minifigure family?  RAF boy's face drops at the thought.  I'm not sure I can guarantee the safety of the zombies from either of us.  Perhaps we'll just stick with our little minifigure family.  

IKEA Adventures

Oh.  My.  Goodness.  Ikea.....<twitch>

I have been to Ikea only once in the past and that was for a look.  Since November 2015, it feels like Ikea has become a second home but not because I like it.  It is RAF boy's version of heaven and he loves nothing more than looking around and then going for meatballs.  I admit, the meatballs are great but the shop.....sob. 

The first time RAF boy took me to Ikea, it was like being on the SS Enterprise at warp speed.  He knows his way around so well that I was dragged along, bewildered, ducking and dodging.   Kitchens flew past me, beds, settees, desks, double doors (for a short cut), bedrooms, dining tables and chairs, children, wardrobes (we had a brief stop here while RAF boy showed me a wardrobe he liked.  I was overwhelmed at this point and trying to avoid the mad woman who insisted on opening all the doors on any wardrobe I stood next to.), stairs, candles, photo frames, lights, light shades that look like massive UFO's, plastic plants, warehouse, crazy people with trolleys, tills and then fresh air.  To say I was dazed upon emerging from Ikea would be an understatement.  What had just happened?  I remember meatballs but then....a blur of furniture with RAF boy shouting incoherent names at me (I later found out that he was telling me the names of the furniture.  Oh yes, that's right ladies and gentlemen, Ikea name their furniture). 

We drove home and no more was mentioned of Ikea.  I calmed myself with a furbaby cuddle and a sweet cup of tea.  I settled down for the evening and put a film on.  Bliss.

"Come on Red, we need to get a wardrobe".  What?  But, I'm drinking tea, cuddles, tea!  I look over at RAF boy, sat at his computer.  "I thought we picked one earlier?  The one with the slidey doors?" I asked, hopeful. He smiled at me with sympathy and pity.  "Yes, but we have to design it".  I stare at him completely baffled.  Design it?  What's to design?  It's a wardrobe.  You normally find one you like and buy it.  Inside it has a hanging bar and usually a top shelf.  Some even come with shelves or drawers depending on which model you buy.  What is this 'design'?  We saw one, we picked one, job done.

RAF boy taps the seat next to him and I warily go over to him.  I take a seat and there on the screen, is the wardrobe that we had decided to get.  Why am I sat here?  My tea, blanket, furbaby and film are over there waiting for me. What foolishness is this?

He begins.  "Ok we need to choose a colour.  Do you want white or black"  I stare at him.  I think about the bedroom.  "White" I reply.  Woohoo.  I made a decision, now to order it and off to my film.  I go to stand up.  "Wait, we're not done yet".  I stare at RAF boy and slowly sit down.  "The frame and bits inbetween the mirror, what colour do you want those?"  I stare at him as if he's lost his mind.  I chose a white wardrobe with sliding doors, what more is there to do other than click the buy button?  He continues.  "You can have black, white, grey or aluminium which is basically silver.  What do you want?"  He looks at me expectantly.  I stare back at him stupidly.  He nods towards the computer screen to encourage me to choose a colour.  "Um, probably grey or silver?" I look to see if this is the right answer, I feel like I'm being tested but for what I don't know.  "Which?" he asks.  He starts clicking on the two colours on the screen and I stare. He does it again and again.  I look at him, dumbfounded.  "There's no difference between them" I say.  RAF boy shakes his head and sighs.  He goes close up on the colours and tells me that there is.  He does it again.  I feel like I'm at the opticians where they ask you which lens is clearer but you don't know - "number one or number two.  Number one or number two.  Again, number one or number two."  To me, the difference between the grey and the silver looks like someone has turned a distant light on somewhere and it has made one so very, very, very slightly lighter.  I bite the bullet and go for it "silver" I declare.  In my mind I do a celebratory dance and a lap around the block.  Well, that's me done.  I've chosen the colour and the silver thing, now to buy it and we're done. 

"Now for the inside" RAF boy happily declares.  He is loving this.  I stare at him.  "The inside?" I squeak.  What has to be done on the inside?  A hanging bar and a shelf.  By the power of telepathy and longing looks, I indicate that my tea is getting cold and the furbaby needs a cuddle.  "Oh, go and grab your tea so it doesn't get cold" he smiles.  He thinks he's being loving and helpful.  I am not sharing this viewpoint.  

I stalk over, grab my cup of tea and stomp back to the computer, where I plonk myself down heavily to convey my displeasure.  It goes completely unnoticed.  RAF boy is staring longingly at the screen and madly clicking away on various objects.  He goes to speak.  I am filled with dread.  

"I've got the hanging bars for the clothes.  Do we have one in each side of the wardrobe or just in one side?"  I can answer this one. This is easy peasy.  I can see a light at the end of the tunnel.  I will answer this question and then, obviously, we'll click on the buy button and we're done.  "Both sides" I say triumphantly and make a move to get up.  "Wait, we're not done.  There's so much more to discuss" says RAF boy.  "It's a bloody wardrobe.  It has bars to hang clothes on, a mirrored door and a regular door.  What more is there to do?" I ask, slightly irritated.  He smiles patiently at me and waits for me to sit back down.  The task begins and I feel like Alice down the rabbit hole.  

"Do you want a shelf?  In both sides or one side?  How high up do you want the shelf?  How high up do you want the hanging bars?  How long is your longest dress?  Shall we have an extending trouser rail?  Do you want that below your dresses?  Do you want drawers?  How many?  Wooden front, glass display front or both?  Do you want a display drawer?  You could display your jewellery.  I could use it for my ties.  Do you want soft close on the drawers?  Do you want soft close on the doors?  Shall we have a shoe storage area?"  

On and on and on went the questions with me swinging between irritation, confusion, bewilderment and back to irritation.  I just want a blimmin' wardrobe!  "Yes to a shelf.  Both sides?  I don't know!  Why?  My longest dress?  It's as long as me!  I guess.  Er....yes?  Yes! Don't know.  Umm......  What do I want a display drawer for?  I have a jewelry box.  You only have one tie.  I suppose so.  No, we have a shoe rack."  

I lost the will to live.  I lost hours of my life that I will never regain.  I just wanted a wardrobe.  Somewhere to hang my clothes.  That's it.  I never knew just how complicated it could be.  RAF boy, however, loves it.  He's deciding on screw sizes, fittings and fixtures, colours of rails, height (everything measured in millimetres), accessories such as storage boxes, drawer organisers and so on.  I drank my tea, nodded, shrugged and looked mournfully across at the settee where my furbaby had made his bed in the blanket and was happily sleeping, contented snores emanating from him.  

"Ok, I think we're done!  Are you happy?  Do you want any changes?  Anything you want to add?"  The barrage of questions bring me out of my sad longing for the settee.  Did I want anything else?  Dear Lord, NO!  Just hit the buy button, please.  He smiles, adds it to a list and I feel hope returning to me.  

"When will they deliver it?" I stupidly ask.  "Oh no, we have to go and get all the pieces ourselves and then assemble it".  He's so happy.  He loves doing this stuff.  RAF boy sees another adventure to his heaven followed by us lovingly doing DIY together and having an amazing wardrobe at the end of it.  

I see another scary trip to a store that I dare not enter alone unless I have a flare gun and a compass, followed by heaving heavy bits of furniture into the car and then into the house, followed by arguments and cursing by us trying to put it together and ending with some semblance of a wardrobe at the end of it and hurt feelings.  

I go and put the kettle on and start to mentally prepare for the wardrobe adventure........