Home Again, Home Again
We’ve made it safely home, although several DVD’s were almost thrown into the Chesapeake on the drive home since the girls wouldn’t stop fighting over which movie to watch. I figured throwing them overboard was littering and obviously wrong so I just stuck my fingers in my ears for a while (my knee prevented me from crawling out onto the roof for a much-needed reprieve). A 9-hour drive (with frequent stops) is a long one with two very opposite munchkins and only one DVD player.
Here are the highlights:
- Lil C decided she’d like to potty train while on vacation and is 90% there. I’m as shocked (although pleasantly surprised) as you probably are at this revelation.
- We had not a drop of rain until we hit the road to come home today. The weather was perfect and so was our week.
- If you don’t spray sunscreen on your lower back and then spend the entire day bent over awkwardly while building a huge sandcastle for the girls, you will have a horribly painful line of bright red sunburn that makes every relative come up to you at least three times a day for the remainder of the week and tell you that you should put more sunscreen on.
- I am not the Mexican Train Domino’s Queen. I have been dethroned and I’m not happy about it.
- I am however, the Sandcastle-Building Queen (photographic evidence to follow later this week).
- Homemade sangria is really good. No, really good.
- I returned home to find that we had no showings all week long, but we’re now advertised in the big glossy real estate magazine and had a bunch of people pick up fliers today (this from the local Britney Spears who stood out front all day answering questions from curious drive-by people. I’m not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing yet. I’m thinking it will highly depend on whether or not she was wearing a bra at the time).
- I found a pretty cool swimsuit that does not second as a piece of cellophane or transparent window screen in its off-time (Photographic evidence will not follow. I repeat, not follow).
- Nothing horrible happened this year. No food poisoning, no internet catastrophes. Nothing. Nothing is so nice.
- I bought a "Life is Good" t-shirt while on vacation, because I figured if I wear it I might start believing it and then this big storm cloud that’s been following me around might dissipate and move on to make someone else miserable and unfortunate. I’ll let you know if it works.
And now I’m off to bed, my bed, the one good thing about being back home.
Operation Relaxation
I am not an exhibitionist. However, my swimsuit tells another story (It did last year too, unfortunately).
Today, the crew went to play tennis and I would be lying if I didn’t admit I was a little jealous. To cheer myself up, I decided to slather sunscreen on the kicking and screaming girls and head to the beach solo. After they were ready, I put my swimsuit from last year on and turned so that I could see my back while I sprayed sunscreen on in the bathroom mirror.
I saw much more than my back.
In place of the previous opaque fabric was something resembling a window screen. Beyond the "window screen", a very white butt and accompanying crack. The offending area ran about 3 inches down the crack and two inches side to side.
I gasped in horror as I recalled the previous day. I’d spent hours in that swimsuit only yesterday, strutting my stuff around the pool in the company of the girls, Mr. BBM, my father-in-law, his fiance and her son. Fan-freaking-tastic. I silently thanked God that I had spent much of the day sitting in the pool because a sunburned butt-crack would be all kinds of unpleasant.
Upon closer inspection, I found two more smaller hole areas on the front of my swimsuit bottoms. Off it went.
Because my past few days have consisted entirely of: beach, sangria, pool, hot tub, yummy food, more sangria, and oh yeah sangria, instead of shaking my fist at the universe for following me with bad luck to the beach, I shrugged the patchwork swimsuit off as a sign from the gods that I’m supposed to go buy another swimsuit.
RIP
We knew it was coming but we didn’t expect it so soon. Sure, the keypad was quirky and it made me hit "compu cook" every time I wanted to use it, but I just thought it was being tempermental. I didn’t know there were serious issues. I didn’t know it would be leaving us so soon. . .
It is with great sadness that I tell you that our microwave is dead.
Of course our microwave is dead, because the day before we go on vacation is a wonderful time for an appliance to die on you. Any showings this week will see a non-working microwave and our disclosure statement that once had a few things on it such as "quirky keypad," needs to be redone since now it is virtually spotless, as we’ve continued to replace and upgrade anything that goes wrong.
Did I mention we lowered our price this week? Do you realize I now need to buy two microwaves? I need one for this house and one for the presumed new house if this place ever sells. I’m sensing a trend.
New carpet for the current house; new flooring for the new house.
New microwave for the current house; new microwave for the new house.
New kitchen floor for the current house; new kitchen floor for the new house.
Freshly sanded and stained deck for the current house; no deck for the new house.
Wait, something doesn’t feel right here.
When I leave for vacation, I am going to do my best to completely forget about anything happening beyond the shoreline.
Dead microwaves this morning and a visit with the surgeon in just a few hours. . . can’t wait to hit the beach.
***There is a new review up at The BBM Review. If you’re looking for a samurai movie to watch this weekend, you might want to check it out (to know which one to avoid).
Fraud Alert
We got a call from our credit card company’s fraud department tonight. When I heard the message on my voice mail, my first thought was, "I am so busted." I went on a little shopping excursion with the girls this afternoon and bought them new sandals and a couple items of clothing for vacation that turned into more than I thought I was going to buy.
Because the store is right beside Ann Taylor Loft, I took a stroll in there too, and that visit also ended up with a visit to the cash register (because when does a visit to Ann Taylor Loft not end up with a visit to the cash register for me? Hint-never). I needed a white summer sweater. If you don’t believe me, I’ve been wearing a maternity one while I searched for a new one. I haven’t been pregnant in three years. I needed a new white sweater.
The items weren’t all that expensive so I was starting to wonder if Mr. BBM put some kind of special wife-checker feature on my card or something. But that wasn’t the case.
A couple days ago, someone made a 96 cent charge to our card that went undetected. I rarely have cash in my wallet, but I don’t ever charge 96 cents But today, someone tried to charge $2700.00 to our card, which is just what you need when you’re in the process of buying a house, some insane amount of debt on your credit card.
The charge was denied due to the sizeable number and the location (It sounded like some online sports betting place). Our cards have been canceled and new ones will arrive in the mail. Unfortunately, they won’t make it here by the time we leave for vacation, so go ahead and place another check in the sucktastic column for BBM and her family.
As a warning to anyone who might be a potential victim of stolen credit, beware of small charges on your card that can signify larger problems to follow. And if you’d like to buy me something else from Ann Taylor Loft to make me and my leper arms feel better and forget about fraudulent poop-heads who try to wreck people’s lives, then please, by all means, do. I’ll take one of everything (I already have the white sweater).
Of Hockey and Karma
When I was in high school, I dated this total tool of a guy for a year. He went to a different high school, was two years older than I was, lied to me about graduating when he didn’t actually graduate, gave me a leather jacket for Christmas that had a cigarette burn on the sleeve, and cheated on me with some girl he called "Kissy." It wasn’t exactly a time in my life where I was oozing with self-esteem.
I did, however, dump him, which I consider one of my finest accomplishments. We won’t discuss that I got back together with him for a few weeks a couple summers later (also dumping him then), because I said so. Also because, if my Mom reads this she’ll relive those unfortunate days and possibly have a stroke or something.
Our summer dates were spent cruising the town in his Dodge Daytona, listening to the Fresh Prince sing "Summertime." Our winter dates consisted of watching hockey. He was a Detroit Red Wings fan. I should have known he was a loser the second he told me. My Dad certainly knew it and shared this fact with me, but I think my brain was damaged from one too many spiral perms. I had to find out for myself, and I certainly did.
I remember in vivid detail how I dumped his butt while he stood on my front porch with teary eyes. My best friend was standing behind the door enjoying every second of me telling him off. When I tossed his soccer jacket at him and shut the door, my friend and I celebrated by dancing on the coffee table to "Hate Everything About You." I’m sure my Mom wasn’t happy about the footprints we left on the table, but she never said anything because she was so relieved that I had finally gotten rid of him. I was so relieved that I wouldn’t have to hear anything else about how awesome Steve Yzerman was. He had this super annoying way of pronouncing "Yzerman" and would get in my face and say it over and over again. How I wanted that player to get his butt kicked, just to make my stupid boyfriend shut-up.
Last night, as I watched the Penguins defeat the Red Wings in a triple overtime event, I had this burning desire to call him up, and just gloat a bit. It was kind of like the battle of the past and present. The past-my icky boyfriend of days gone by versus the present-my super nice husband who loves the Pens.
Here’s hoping the "present" continues to win. How I’d love to see him and gloat, just a tiny bit. Sometimes karma takes a really long time to make things right. Go PENS!
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