What's up with that?
Dummy Boot Camp, that's what's up with that. And guess what? I'm going to ROCK ON, peeps!
I'm extending boot camp through May. That way I can squeeze three years worth of accomplishment into two months.
(BTW, look what I accomplished this weekend):
This is where that old empty fish tank used to sit.
So you wanna hear my weekend in a nutshell? Or should I say "eggshell?"
(Ba dum bum)
First, there was Renaissance Fair at the elementary school, in which I was unaware that my services would be required to assist in both the acquisition of two old English costumes . . .
145 Burger King Crowns . . .
until the night before acquisition and construction was to commence.
Next, my Gigi, bless her heart, (literally), had a heart attack and landed in the ICU.
My daughter ditched class and we rushed to the hospital, where we found her in a delirious state, in which she looked at my daughter and told her how beautiful she is, and how gorgeous she is, and how spunky she is.
"You could be Miss America," she told my daughter.
And then she looked at me and said, "My, what big hair you have!" "I've never seen you with such big hair!"
Ain't it such a shame how old age can mess with a person's perspective? (BTW, she is recovering nicely and going in for pacemaker surgery on Friday.)
Next I got a surprise visit from my daughter's hoity toity English teacher from Hawaii. Remember Mariko?
Well, she had a cute baby since we moved, and now she's all humble, but her voice is still smoldering and she still wears tie-dye, so all is right with the world.
Next, my hub rushed to Las Vegas for the weekend to watch my oldest boy play basketball. He was travelling under very precise time constraints, as the first game started at 6:50 p.m. and he wasn't slotted to leave work until 2:00 p.m. You do the math. Even with the hour time change, he had to travel at lightening speed, without stopping, in order to make the tip off.
Being the good little Stepford wife that I am, I aligned the moon and stars to make this happen. I got the car lubed, topped off the gas tank, and refilled his 45 oz. Harts cup with Diet Coke.
I purchased potato logs and chicken tenders, and a whole bag of sunflower seeds, which I neatly arranged within arms length of the steering wheel, along with a spitting cup for the shells.
I secured extra cash, and Google mapped directions to his hotel.
I tucked treats and snacks into his bag, as well as a sweet card which read in effect: MISS YOU. LOVE YOU. WISH I WAS THERE WITH YOU. OR YOU WERE HERE WITH ME (since I'll be watching Mr. Darcy tell Lizzy that she has bewitched him body and soul.)
(Body AND soul? Fer reals? I would be happy if I could just bewitch my hub's little finger.)
My daughter and I dropped the car off for my hub at precisely 2 p.m. (Or was it precisely 2:15 p.m)? We even left the motor running and the door open so he could jump in and zoom away without delay.
My phone rang some time later and I smiled, ready to hear those three little words I have come to love so much: "Thank you, but . . . "
"Hey," he said instead, "You didn't put any CD's in the car? Where are all the CD's? What am I supposed to listen to when the radio cuts out?"
They say love means never having to say "I'm sorry." I guess it also means never having to say "Thank you" or "You have betwitched my little finger."
Love is super rad like that. Once you've shackled yourselves together, love becomes telepathic. In fact, I bet Lizzy never heard Mr. Darcy say the word bewitched ever again, once they tied the knot and the camera stopped rolling.
"I'm sorry honey bunches of oats," I said, (because apparently I don't love him as much as he loves me), "But I did include one CD for your listening pleasure."
The Secret. You know, law of attraction and all that jazz. It was the only CD I left in the car. I even pushed play on the way out.
Upon his return I asked him how he enjoyed it.
"It was weird."
That's all he said. Which we all know is secret code for, "You are weird."
Weird today, maybe. Bewitched tomorrow? (Maybe?)
(A girl can dream.)
Speaking of bewitched, Lulu is still in heat. UGH!
She has definitely figured out the secret to the law of attraction because every k-nine on the block is under her spell. You should hear the little Maltese across the street whining and panting as he scratches on our sliding glass door all. night. long. It sounds just like a his whining and panting as I drop-kicked him across our yard after he figured out how to take off Lulu's chastity belt.