Vera Wang, Where are You?

Hello from Lake Tahoe, one of our favorite relaxing places on planet earth.  It rocks! Do I look cold in this picture?  I am! Does my sweatshirt look too big?  Does it look like it is a Minnesota sweatshirt that I would never wear?  IT IS!  See my husband?  Doesn’t he look kind and thoughtful and fun.  It’s all a FRONT!  If we post more pictures from our adventures in Tahoe, be sure to notice my jeans…. because I will have them on in EVERY single photo.  WHY? you ask.

Our story begins last Wednesday when I emptied my suitcase from my trip to Nashville, only long enough to wash the clothes and re-pack into a carry-on for my high school girl’s road trip.  My family would be joining me in Tahoe after I flew to Los Angeles for the four day excursion with four of my high school friends.  Us girls had to pack light as there were five of us in a suburban and we needed room for our vintage/shabby/thrift store gems yet to be purchased.  And we used all that space too!

Knowing that I would need WARM clothes in Tahoe, I packed half of the big suitcase to share with my husband, as we have done for 27 years now.  Being the Phoenix girl that I am, I added wool socks, flannel jammies, three more pair of socks, a big Mickey Mouse sweatshirt, sweats, a wind-proof jacket, five pair of undies, my warm fur Vera Wang bling bling slippers, long sleeve shirts, a heating pad, the next book in the series that I am reading, Christmas-in-July gifts for two of our friends, etc. etc. etc.

When our family was re-united (and it feels so good) at the lake, I immediately went to the suitcase to layer up on my clothes and find my slippers.  I dug on one side.  I dug on the other side.  Then realization hit…. like a mosquito impacting the windshield at 75 mph…. MY STUFF WAS MISSING!  WHAT?  I almost couldn’t breathe for a few seconds.  I threw out a few games and a pillow that my sweet husband had packed in the suitcase and then with a slightly elevated voice I “kindly” asked, “WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES?”  His blank look of confusion on his handsome face confirmed that it was not a premeditated action taken to cause me mental anguish.  He replied after a few seconds, “I took out all the stuff that you left in the suitcase from Nashville.”  “IT WAS NOT FROM NASHVILLE!  IT WAS WOOL SOCKS AND A HEATING PAD SO I DON’T FREEZE TO DEATH HERE IN TAHOE!”

He told me that I could just wear the clothes over and over from the road trip…. yeah… NO!  It was a beach dress, shorts and a tank top and capris with a sleeveless shirt.  NOT TAHOE FRIENDLY at all.  I was wearing my jeans, thank God all mighty!  And a blue t-shirt.  And one of my three pair of underwear.  And one of my two pair of socks.  At that moment, I took Rick’s Minnesota sweatshirt from the suitcase and put it on.  He commented, “Well, I brought that so I could wear it.”  Too bad, Bucko.

My Vera Wang slippers have been temporarily replaced by these handmade Halloween slippers that are four sizes too large that I found in the cabin….  they ARE warm.  I’m almost speechless at this turn of events.  Almost.  OK, not really.  Several comments have been made ALL DAY LONG as to my clothes being the same as yesterday…. the stain on my blue t-shirt that appears to be growing… the outfit that I will have on for ALL the pictures this week…. a Bible verse about how we shouldn’t worry about what we wear…. and how I should really be choosing ONE outfit for my husband to also wear all week long next to me.  :o)  He is lucky that this is not a trip where I needed nice, dress-up clothes with matching jewelry and purses and shoes.  Oh, let me tell you how lucky he is!

Good grief!  Calm down.

Thankfully November is Here!

When the scary ghosts and goblins start leaving the neighbors’ yards I’m always thankful.  Someone told me that Halloween spending is second only to Christmas… really?  We spend no money for Oct. 31st.  If the kids want to dress up and gather candy (that I secretly throw away in small chunks over time) that is fine and even fun, but we’re not spending a dime on costumes.  This drives my children’s creative genes…. as you will see in the picture that follows.

Austin (my personal favorite this year) was Nacho Libre, the luchador, in his stretchy pants.  He already had the mask and he made the rest of the costume from a blue t-shirt and a red under armor long sleeve hockey shirt….. AND the glue gun.  It made me laugh… several times last night.

Larisa (who spent her own money on a Goodwill dress) was Marilyn Monroe… not the scandalous Marilyn, she explained to me…. the musical participant Marilyn.  Sure.  Every year Larisa works a costume around those false eyelashes.  :o)

Nora (her FIRST Halloween!) loved being Belle from Beauty and the Beast.  She had never been trick-or-treating, so that was fun, other than her princess shoes hurting her tootsies.  Thankfully we live in Phoenix and it was warm enough to go barefoot!

Keeve (decided to dress up five minutes before we were leaving) went out to the dress-up box and pulled out the Yoda costume from 2001.  It’s a mini-skirt now, but the mask works.  He quickly sawed off a broom handle and had a cane.

November is here and I am thankful!

Do You Really Wanna Hurt Me?

October 31^st, 2005 went down in the family history books as the hallowed eve when I poisoned my husband. This is my first confession of the incident. Rick and I escorted our three children, the Hippy, the Hockey Goalie and Bibleman, along with our two overnight visitors, Darth Vader and the Medieval Princess, for a fun evening of games, candy and prizes at our church’s October Fest. By 9:30 p.m. my peaceful home was calling to me.

As we herded our flock toward the van, my husband decided it was the perfect time to announce that he and my brother had plans to go to a late show since he had movie passes that expired that night. I wasn’t impressed, to say the least. To his credit, Rick did help deposit all five kids in the van and sent me on my way. After asking for any and all miniature Almond Joy candy bars, I focused on remaining positive.

Any drill sergeant would have been proud of me that night: “All candy on the kitchen counter. Costumes off. Jammies on. Teeth brushed for five minutes.” With four kids finally in bed, I set Bibleman up on our bathroom counter to look at a bloody toe. Two weeks previously, he had crashed his bike, slammed his big toe and the nail fell off. The pediatrician had given me instructions to rinse it with a solution of 50/50 hydrogen peroxide and water. Conveniently, there was a clear plastic bottle in the bathroom with only three ounces of water, so I doubled it with hydrogen peroxide. The toe was washed, medicated, bandaged and as soon as Bibleman was tucked in, I fell into bed exhausted.

At 2:09 a.m. I was shaken awake by my husband’s hands and booming, panicky voice, “Linda, what was in my water bottle next to the sink?” Oh no! “Hydrogen peroxide,” I groggily answered. He grabbed the peroxide bottle and loudly read, “If ingested call the Poison Control Center immediately.” He shot back, “Where is the number for Poison Control?” Now, I am not super sympathetic when I am fully awake. I am on the verge of completely unconcerned when I am half asleep. My eyes still closed, I offered, “In the phone book under P,” and drifted back to sleep.

When I awoke the next morning, I glanced over in our bed to see my husband’s back facing me and the entire hydrogen peroxide nightmare resurfaced. His breathing was undetectable. Was he dead? I wondered… and gave him a little shove with my foot. Praise be to God, Rick groaned and pulled the covers up to his neck. Guilt tried to consume me, but a twinge of “serves him right” was just under the surface due to being sent home with five candy-laden children while he went movie viewing. I felt partially vindicated because my poisoning was not premeditated. Thankfully, Rick was fine.

Rick inquired of the children at the breakfast table, “Did your mother tell you she tried to poison me last night?” After a recap of the 2:09 a.m. fiasco the kids threw their heads back and belly laughed, completely shriveling Rick’s pity party to nothingness. I came so close to making it through my apology without grinning, “I’m sorry I almost poisoned you.” Next time Rick better think twice before crossing my inner mad scientist.