"9 Chicks and a Dick"

So I don't know what all you posers out there did this weekend, but check me out. While everyone else was mowing their grass and washing their cars 8 other Moms and I went whitewater rafting in West Virginia.

Whitewater rafting was not something I ever thought I wanted to do. It looks dangerous, you get really wet, and let's face it, it sounds like something Tommy Chong would say when he's stoned. "Hey, man", let's get in a boat and go down a really fast river with lots of rocks and maybe we'll fall out." But we were celebrating someones 40th birthday and next thing I know I'm hurtling down the New River and loving every minute of it.

The rafting was the best part of the trip, but the whole weekend will not soon be forgotten. There was a sunset horseback trail ride, a cabin in the woods with a hot tub, endless panoramic vistas, wonderful cafes and pubs, and my bunkmate wasn't 3 and didn't sleep with her feet in my face (thanks Jen). Also, the only person I had to feed was me. Consequently, we didn't stop anyplace that served chicken nuggets or had a kid's meal. I got to eat what I wanted when I wanted it, and best of all, it was still hot when I ate it! And yes, as in St. Augustine, I found the shop that sold fudge.

But perhaps the coolest part of the trip was that I got to be an alternate "me" for the weekend. I chatted up waitstaff in restaurants to find out the best food, I struck up conversations with complete strangers (I channeled my Dad, for sure), I was hilariously funny (as always), and I was "ADVENTURE GIRL": galloping down steep mountain paths on my trusty steed, then braving the icy waters and averting certain doom with my lightening quick reflexes and paddling ability. (In my own mind, I was a SERIOUS force to be reckoned with).

As with all things, my idyllic weekend came to an end when we pulled up in the driveway to the chorus of 2 little girls screaming not "We missed you Mommy", but "What did you bring me, Mommy?". Ah, home, sweet home.

Moral of the Story: Try on an "alternate you" next weekend. If you don't have one, you can borrow mine, I'm not currently using it.

For those of you wondering, "9 Chicks and a Dick" was the name our rafting guide gave to our crew for the day!

"I Am a Guitar Hero!"

You've gotta love a game that on the outset makes you a hero. If I never did anything else, just by purchasing this game I should be a demi-hero, or something.

It all started, like most things do, with my sister. We spent 15 days at her house in June. I came away exhausted and with permanent damage to my fingering hand. You see, while we were there, Craig found a great deal at GameStop.com on the Guitar Hero game. It was delivered while I was there. I watched in horrid fascination while these seasoned Rock Band veterans learned to pluck the Guitar Hero way.

I was skeptical at first. I mean, it's not really a guitar. It's just a game with a guitar controller, right? I started out on the Easy level and have since become proficient at Medium and have begun to venture out into Hard territory.

I have to tell you, I love this game. I'm not much for game playing, myself. I'll watch Luke and the kids navigate through dungeons, space, Lego lands and the like. I've just never really enjoyed actually playing the games myself. And let's be honest, it's because I suck.

But with this Guitar Hero thing, even the game tells me that I rock! So while I was still in Virginia, I bought and had delivered to my home my very own Guitar Hero games and guitars! And now the whole family can enjoy.

This game is great for helping the kids with their rhythm. It's great for a "together" activity for Luke and me. It's great for the kids to kill some time on a rainy afternoon. And if you can convince your friends, it's a great party game.

I must admit, I get a bit cocky when I play well. I am a fantastic bass player, in my mind. I'm sure 'real' guitar players the world over are horrified. I don't particularly care; they're just jealous because they didn't get 100% on the song Beautiful Disaster by the band 311.

Maybe I could add this to my list of hobbies. "Yeah, Luke and I have a band. We're the Ninja Cupcakes. I play bass." Do you think anyone would believe me? And I have to tell y0u, the character that I made for our band is so totally what I looked like, oh, say, 15, 20 years ago! Luke's character, too! I'm sure they get together after they're played a gig for us and, well, I'll keep it PG for you.

Moral of the story: Feel free to come over and play a set with me anytime!

"Three Cheers for Sarah!"

I'm writing this because I know that, while her mom is proud of her, she is slacking in the blog effort. And that my dears, is what is commonly known as a complassault.....

Anyway, on to Sarah. I got a phone call on Wednesday. I thought for sure it was Discover Card, or someone checking up on Mark because he's sick. Nope. It was a wonderful ray of sunshine in my otherwise rainy day.

I love that fact that my niece wants to share her triumphs with me. I just wish I wasn't so far away so I could do better than a, "Get a hug from your mom for me." You see, I love that kid. Even when the cheese is too cheesy and she turns all squealy for no apparent good reason. She has the best heart around, and she shares it well with all those she loves. Lucky for me, I'm included in the loved ones.

So, here I was wallowing in self-sick-pity, when I answer the phone. It's Val and my niece wants to tell me something.

"Aunt Pam!" she screams into the phone; all the better to hear you with my dear. "I passed my swim test!" This test is a simple swim from one end of the olympic-sized pool to the other, without resting, stopping, touching the side or the bottom. A monumental hurdle for some, and she passed it on her first time out!

The reason for the test is so you can go down the cool slide at the YMCA pool. So I ask, "Great! Did you go down the slide?" And in typical Sarah fashion she answers, "No, but I get to keep the wrist-band!" But that is not all folks....

"And, Aunt Pam, I read four books today!" Wow. That is a big deal. I can't get Mark to read one chapter without some serious coercion. But wait, there's more....

"And, Aunt Pam, I'm going to eat a whole apple so my loose tooth will fall out!" Loose teeth are a very big deal. And yet, there is one more thing....

"And, Aunt Pam, I have to go now because my friends are waiting outside to play. Bye!"

And I am the lucky person she shared with. However, I have a sneaking suspicion I wasn't the only one graced with Sarah's phone call. But that's okay; her heart is big enough for all of us.


Moral of the story: (Heaving great sighs....) And that, my friends, is what it means to be a kid.

"You Are NOT Wearing That!"

So, I have a daughter that is getting older. In my opinion, she is one of the most beautiful girls around. However, I will give you that I am prejudiced. But, with that said, I think she is cute and adorable.

Now realize, she doesn't go to a public school, so she doesn't really have any peer pressure where clothes are concerned. In fact, until recently, she was 'fashion impaired'. She would wear whatever, in any color combination. She has gotten better. I have to admit that she gets it from her mom. I'm very colorful and could care less nowadays about what is "in".

So, when I occasionally try to steer her toward less garish choices, she usually just tells me, "It's fine, mom." And in the effort not to fight over things that truly don't matter, I let it go. However, that is not the way it happened on Sunday.

We were getting ready to do our weekly Target shopping trip. I sent Rach in to get dressed so we could get going. What she came out in wasn't tacky. It matched. It was fashionable. The problem was how much of her was showing.

Rachel came out in a t-shirt and jeans shorts. When she put her hands down at her sides, the bottom of the shorts hit about wrist level or a little higher. So I tell her that's the last time she wears those shorts. Nope, on second thought, you ain't getting out of the house looking like that. She responds with, "It's fine, mom. It's supposed to be like that."

Really? Well, I decide not to fight. Instead I bring in my big guns. I invoke the dad. I have her go out and show Luke what she is almost wearing. I am certain he will back me up. I know with all that I am that he will be horrified that she is considering showing that much tanned leg out in public. Well, blow me over with a feather.

"She looks fine," he says. WHAT?!? "She just has long legs," he says. Well, yeah, I NOTICED. I just didn't want a bunch of other people noticing. So, I continue to say, "But they're so short." Nope. He thinks she's fine. So, I bring up, "If she bends over, her beheiney will show." So he has her bend over, and guess what? Nothing is hanging out. So she gets to go to Target in shorts I swear would fit a 2 year old midget.

Huh. Now what? Maybe I can convince her before she gets too much older that monks robes are cool. You think?

Moral of the story: What was cool for me when I was 8 just seems wrong 30 years later. Go figure.

"eBay is eVil"

Maybe I'm the only one. I'm not sure; you guys could tell me. Maybe I'm just weak. It started out small. Just one purchase. Than a few at a time. Now I'm addicted. Hello, my name is Pam and I'm an eBay junky. Here's my story.

At first I have to admit, I was scared of eBay. I had no idea how to use it, I didn't understand how the bidding worked, and I was easily discouraged. I tried it when Rachel was about 2, and then didn't look at it again for about 5 years. And then my sister explained it to me. Now get the hell out of my way!

The whole idea of a world-wide auction is just freakin' cool. I've bought jewelry from Hong Kong. I've bid on things in Canada. I can sit in my living room in my jammies and shop in exotic locales. What's not to love about this? It's way better than the mall. Well, the mall does have cookies....

Another cool thing about the whole eBay thing is I love getting mail. When I've been eBay shopping it is the highlight of my day to go out to the mailbox. What will it hold today? Sometimes just the empty hope that I had a delivery. Sometimes it's a jackpot and I receive multiple purchases at once. It's like I have friends all over the world that occasionally send me little trinkets they think I'll like. It's very affirming.

I also love the race for a good bargain. The whole bidding thing is way cool. Yes, I have sat and watched the seconds click down when I really, really, really wanted to win something. And I have fallen to utter despair when someone outbid me in the last few seconds by mere change. In turn, I have done the same to others. It's a rush. Not better than sex, but definitely less harmful than drugs or chocolate.

So why, you may ask, if I am singing the praises of eBay, do I also call it eVil? It sucks you in. Sure, there are bargains to be had. But really, at what price? I'm going broke saving money. It's like it's not real money because I use my Pal to pay, right? I saw a number on my account today that scared me. They track how much you spend every 30 to 60 days and display that, right there, on the screen, for me to see. What were they thinking? I don't NEED to see that! I can't log in without bidding on something, or two or six. And then I win it. And then it all adds up. And I didn't even have to do anything but sit there and type less than 20 characters.

I mean, you just log in, and there you go. There are suggestions for what you might want to bid on. I get emails on things that have no bids; like I'm some big high-roller that is getting some secret deal. Illusion, it's a powerful thing.

The credit card statement, that is even more powerful.

So, now I have to put myself on eBay restriction. Like I'm some teenager that came home after curfew, or cussed at my mom. eBay lets you act reckless, and then you have to pay for it later. And man, am I paying for it. I wonder how long this restriction will last.....

Moral of the story: Sometimes you pay for your fun in credit, and sometimes you pay for it with your soul. eBay has mine up for auction. You should check it out, it's a bargain.

"Home, Sweet Home"

So I just got back from our family vacation to Florida. And as always during my visits to my home state, at some part of the vacation, I settle back and think "it's good to be home". For most people, Florida is an ideal: white sand beaches, palm trees, and Mickey Mouse. But for the "Sunshine State" natives we know differently.

My Florida is populated by centuries old live oaks dripping with Spanish moss, saw palmettos, and telephone poles wrapped in kudzu vine. My Florida has miles of rolling pastures dotted with the occasional cow. My Florida is populated with cinder block and stucco houses, some hidden in dense growth in the small inland towns and others painted horrible pastel shades the closer you get to the beach. My Florida has small lizards on every available surface whose only purpose is to either amuse you with their poses or terrify you when you fail to notice how close you are to stepping on them. My Florida has heat and humidity that ride your back and weigh down your every step, making you consider how bad you really want your mail . My Florida has an afternoon shower that happens like clockwork every day, 2 minutes before you get home. My Florida has dozens of roadside stands selling fresh corn, homegrown tomatoes, and of course, boiled peanuts.

For this vacation we went native instead of tourist. Now don't get me wrong, I love spending time at "Mouse House", but our stops had their own rustic charm. Our first stop was Silver Springs. It boasts of glass bottom boat rides on a spring fed clear river. We saw alligators, herons, cranes, all manner of fish, snakes and even monkeys. My favorite part was that all the park attendants were surly/comical octogenarians. On the Jeep ride into the brush where the main attraction was mud and potholes, my Dad commented that we missed one of the 2.000+ potholes. Our driver slammed on the brakes, put the vehicle in reverse and made sure to run it over this time. At 5:00 p..m. sharp the park closed. I think the attendants were in a rush to get to the early bird special at Shoney's.

Our next journey was to historic St. Augustine. We climbed all over a centuries old fort, got to see the cannon fire, and by god, we made it to the store that sells fudge. Our highlight of the day was buying tacky souvenirs and ice cream. My favorite part of the trip was Rachel asking about the "man-planted" trees (tree farm) on the way there. I'm still laughing.

The next day we went to Burrito Brothers and spent $80 on burritos and t-shirts. For those of you not in the know, Burrito Brothers is a famous UF eatery that sells the best burritos and used to serve them out of a location the size of a closet. Their old location got knocked down and now they operate out of a church kitchen. It's akin to buying food off the back of a pickup. Then we tried to go to Devil's Millhopper. I say tried because they were closed. It's an old sinkhole that has stairs built into it so you can walk down into it. Oh well, we went for ice cream again.

And finally, we went tubing on the Ichitucknee River. We shoved inflatable rafts inside our cars, strapped the one that wouldn't fit on the top and off we went. A tram ride later we were cruising down yet another spring fed lake looking for wildlife and soaking up the rays.

Moral of the story: Glass bottom boats, an old fort, burritos, a sinkhole (almost), a tube ride down the river, and ten people sleeping on top of each other so they could all be together. That's my Florida.

"Tattoo, Or Not To"

....that is the question. Last year, while the kids were on their week's vacation to grandma's house, Luke and I got some pretty cool looking tats. As you can see, I think they are neato. Mine is the panda; Luke's is the Mayan jaguar. Both of these have significance for us. For me, I have collected pandas in various shapes and forms for as many years as I can recall. It was only when my friends and loved ones vowed no more pandas, that my collection has dwindled. Luke's tattoo was significant because his first love has been archeology, and he focused his studies in Central and South America. That was real useful, right?

Anyway, the kids went away to mom's again this summer. The time has come and gone. We briefly discussed getting more tattoos and making it an annual ritual. We were joking; at least I was. One of the reasons I love the tattoo I have, is because it is personally relevant. I like it because it is colorful and pretty. And I like it because nobody sees it that I don't want to see it. It's very easy for me to walk around camouflaged as a non-tattooed person, with no one the wiser.

If I started getting annual tattoos, the whole "put 'em where no one can see 'em" thing would only last so long before I ran out of places to put another tattoo. So, I started thinking seriously about whether or not I wanted another tattoo, and if I did, where in the heck would it go?

When it comes to what kind of tattoo I would like, the problem is there are so many that are great ideas for me. I love flowers. I'm an Aries and could do the whole zodiac symbol thing. Ever since I quit work we have tried to have more balance in our lives; so a yin/yang thing would be nice. Music is a big thing for us, so a bass clef would be cool. I could go trashy and have Luke's name tattooed somewhere interesting. And I am very ruled by the moon, ifn' you know what I mean; so a cool moon tat would be nice.

So, I have to ask myself: "Self, do you really want all of these things tattooed somewhere on your body?" I'm thinking the answer is probably 'yes'. Although, I have to say I'd like everything to match. So I'm thinking about a custom job on my back that incorporates all of these elements. The cool thing is, Luke is talking about designing for me.

I'm not sure if I'm actually going to go through with it. It's kind of like that whole child birth thing....I haven't forgotten the pain of the last one. And we're talking about a big, detailed tattoo that is going to take awhile to put on my skin. Will I do it? Who knows. Ask me next summer.

Moral of the story: I don't mind being the tattooed lady; I DO mind being the fat lady. Don't get your circus people confused.

"Bike Blues"

So, the neighbor boys are learning to ride their bikes without training wheels. And one evening, while watching them out of the dining room window, I was reminded of this story. I really wish I had a picture to go with it!

When Mark was smaller than he is now, he learned to ride a bike on a little 12-inch Shark bike from Toys r Us. Since it was so small, taking the training wheels off and teaching him to ride without them was actually relatively easy. So, since he was so proficient at bike riding, we decided to get him a bigger bike for his fifth birthday.

The day came and went, and he was excited about his new 'big boy' bike. The problem was, it came assembled with training wheels. We didn't think anything about giving him the bike with the training wheels and then pulling them off later. However, the boy had other ideas.

He was convinced since it was a bigger bike, it was therefore harder to ride and he needed the training wheels. We finally decided on tough love for the boy, and took the training wheels off under extreme protest. This meant that he usually chose to ride his scooter and dissed his bike altogether.

In response, being the mom that I am, I forced him to ride his bike first. He would do so under protest and in a desultory manner. This ticked me off, but it got him to ride.

Well, we happened to be out one afternoon with the neighbors. This was an occasion when I again forced him to ride his bike first. My neighbor and I were standing in the road while Mark drove off toward the cul-de-sac, discussing his lack of interest in riding the bigger bike. We were watching him make a slow circle to come back, when all of a sudden, he disappeared!

He was going so slowly and bitching so much, that he lost control at the end of the street and rode right into the retention pond! One minute he was there, and the next minute he and his bike had disappeared over the rise and into the water.

Melissa and I ran to his rescue, and fished him and his bike out of the pond. One of his crocs was floating away and my neighbor went right in after it, with her cell phone in her pocket. He was wet and scared and the bike had some algae damage, but everyone was all right.

Moral of the story: Maybe if you didn't bitch so much karma wouldn't throw you into the retention pond!

"Oh No You Didn't"

So, I've been hung up on twice in the last two days. I'm talking, talking, talking, and then, well, nothing. No one there. You would think I'm talking about a company, a call center, a place where they don't have ownership over their actions; but no. I'm talking of my best loved. Let's recount, shall we?

First time this heinous crime occurred was on a Sunday afternoon. I had just finished writing my blog posting for Monday morning, and was on the phone with my sister. We were discussing her upcoming trip to Florida. You know, what I'm expecting her to bring, what I need to bring to mom's, etc. The normal trip stuff. Then we get into a conversation I felt was benign. She obviously did not. Here it is; you be the judge.

Me: "So I just finished up the blog I'm going to post for tomorrow."
Her: "Great."
Me: "So, you know this site is called Wonder Twins, right?"
click

What the hell was that?! It was the sound of my sister hanging up on me. I call her right back to ask, and sure enough, it was intentional. She says to me that the phone didn't like me ragging on her and decided to cut me off. Really? And exactly how old are you again? I didn't even get to tell her that I miss her stories and don't know how much longer I can carry the site without her input. Well, let me tell you.....Sisters? We don't need no stinkin' sisters!!!! I can be entertaining enough for the both of us and not one person will miss you and your correctly spelled stories.

The next event was just as bad. It was Monday afternoon. We had just finished up lunch and were working on our math lessons for the day. I was helping Mark when Rachel asked for some help. I gave Mark a break and looked over Rach's stuff. It was mostly wrong. Which I found kind of funny because it was a review of a lesson Luke had given her on Friday. So, I called him at work to bust his chops. It went like this.

Me: "I just looked over the review from last Friday and Rachel got it all wrong."

Him: " Really? That's the lesson I taught her and she was doing great. I'll have to review it with her tonight when I get home."

Me: "I'm not sure I want you to. I mean, she has a test tomorrow. I'll go over it with her and she'll be fine. I was just calling because I thought it was funny. Silence. You know I'm kidding, right? Silence. Hello? Are you there? Silence. Luke?"

Well, I hung up the phone thinking either his work phone was on the fritz, or Brighthouse was messing with us again. I went back to working with Mark, waiting for Luke to call back. And waiting. And waiting. It was then I realized something: My husband had hung up on me!

Of course, I had to call him back as well. He had. I was kidding! Do you people not understand sarcasm when you hear it? Of all people, my sister and my husband should be on board with a little bit of friendly ribbing. Luke has the balls to tell me that maybe I'm the factor, after all, I'm the one that had been hung up on twice now. Get a clue.

Get a clue!? Get a clue. Yeah, I'll get a clue. Like the one that says Luke was murdered in the garage with a hammer by his wife. Or maybe Valerie was drown in the pool, with a floatie by her sister. What the hell?

My most favoritest people in the world are now the sarcasm police.

Moral of the story: You know, when you are mean to your wife, karma burns the eggs she was boiling for your work salads this week. Enjoy!