While I was doing laundry my pilot nephew was busy having just another day at the office.
The best part of this first day of Spring, besides being proud of my nephew, is wearing my sunglasses and flip flops not just because but because the weather becons it. Grilling ribs and chicken, listening to music on the deck and sipping ginger ale.
I forgot to mention there are 49 days in the school year for me and D. Five days less for M. Is counting down wrong? H-E-double-L, NO!
Just like the weather has changed dramatically this week (snow on Monday, 83* today) so has the health of our beloved band director/teacher. The warrior fought a good battle. Sometimes you are called to lay down your weapon and make peace with the beast.
When I return to work next week I will hear stories of co-workers trips to Vegas and Disney. I am certain the stories will be filled with fun memories but can they say they went to Sikeston? Not just Sikeston but Lambert's--home of the throwed roll?
That's right, for my spring break the girls and I took a two hour drive southeast for lunch. We took D's bestie who had never been. Turns out catching rolls flying across a restaurant was not her strong point--as one clubbed her in the head. When a roll clubs your head it's kind of a killjoy for future roll catching.
The idea was on a Wednesday the place would be empty; the wait lines short...where sharing the bowls of pass arounds--fried okra, fried potatoes, black eyed peas, macaroni and tomatoes--wouldn't be an issue. Ha! Not the case. It seems everyone traveling the highway desires a throwed roll. Along with a heaping plate of food...
Roast beef anyone? I moved the carrots to make space for the fried potatoes, 'cause mashed taters isn't enough startch.
Maybe you'd prefer chicken fried steak and a baked sweet potato? With a liter size cup of beverage?
To ease anyone's panic that we actually ate the ginormous portions of foods...we left with boxes, all of us. Ate half of the leftovers for dinner with yet enough left for lunch again tomorrow.
(the muddy Missippi River is earning her nickname with
extra muddy waters from a harsh winter and tornadoes)
My letter to Jefferson City would go something like this:
Dear State of MO
First you messed with me by letting the bats hybernate a bit longer, keeping the cave closed with no warning posted on the park's website. Now today you have the visitor center at the Trail of Tears closed. Not to mention the roads to the campgrounds. How's a girl to investigate if she wants to park her home on wheels on your turf? Quit jerking us!
There was one campground open--yuck! That is all I have to say. I am not crazy about trains blazing in my camping backyard. Done it before. Not a fond memory...or a good night's sleep! D's bestie who has never camped before looked at me and said seems like the camp spots are awful close together. She's right! You could reach out and snag a beer from your neighbors cooler, that's how close the sites are. In the end I have decided we can skip the idea of building a fire and roasting our marshmallows here.
It was fun day. I think this might end up being the highlight adventure of our spring break.
Last Saturday was a beautiful day. The kids were in shorts. The sun was shining and the camper was begging to meet the truck's hitch for the first time. So. Off a camping we went.
We picked our state park soley for the purpose of touring the cave. Inside the visitor center the time line of the cave's history there was a line that read, "go gaga for Onondaga". Ha! Because close by was a sign that read "Bat Hybernation Cave closed till April 15". Bologna I say. The cave always opens in March! Why couldn't the website have warned cave seekers of this batty non-sense. Wake the bats. Tell them daylight saving time was about to kick in. So what if they are battling white-nose bat syndrome. We wanted the chance to go gaga over Onondaga [Cave].
Nevertheless we had a good over night get away. In 2002 they shut this park down, gutted and rehabbed the entire campground. It is really nice. We had only the company of a couple from Iowa tenting and another family in their mongo fifth wheel. We all spread far enough apart so not to feel one another's company.
Uli went on her first ever camping trip
since no one was around we defyed the park rules by letting our pouch go leashless
she did take the leash when I went for a run
the girlies cranked up the music and danced
(we've decided to go one more season with the pop-up
before buying the big boy)
As the sun was thinking of setting we played B-S
King Ralph doesn't wear a bullshit face to well
hence all the cards in his hands
Later in the night when the cold night air grabbed hold
we took the cards inside; changed to Uno
King Ralph's sausage fingers grasped the whole deck.
I smell it alright. It smells like spring break! In just 7.5 hours--after a half day of work, a staff luncheon and a dreaded training class/test (required by the government) I will be free from scheduled obligation for one week. YIPPEE! YIPPEE!
We aren't escaping town this year for sun and sand. It is so much more fun to spend a spring break wearing winter coats and long underwear staring at brown grass in the yard. However that doesn't mean we can't find an adventure or two to experience. At least that is what I am hoping for.
The girls decided a few Friday evenings ago to unearth my treasured fashions: the senior prom dress and my wedding dress.
The prom dress has always been a favorite. No matter how much I try to convince them to wear it to their own proms; I can't seem to get any takers. Why I don't know? It is gorgeous in its aqua cellophane like fabric, with its one sided trio of ruffles. Believe it or not this circa 1980's piece of fashion could probably be pulled off in 2011. Acutally the girls are softening to the idea. The only thing that keeps M from going all vintage to prom is her height and the dress' lack of grace for high heals. Everyone knows my 5'7 girlie loves to rock those 4 inchers. (The only thing stopping me from wearing my gown around the house is cough-cough pounds)
My wedding dress has been sealed in a box on a high shelf in the basement storage room going on twenty-four years. So when they suggested trying it on...I was like go for it! The air tight seal broken and the pristine white dress with its Corpse Bride-esque vibe (or Beetle Juice-esque aura) popped to life. A wee bit crinkled and rumpled.
The girls danced around the living room modeling my preserved treasures. M our minor league fashion designer began redesigning the dress...snip this off and that off, add more tulle, cut the sleeves off, rip the waist ruffle off....
In the end...why the heck did I save my wedding dress? To remind me that I was once a skinny beotch. Ya? Maybe. Maybe not. Actually when my wedding dress was boxed I thought it was the most BEE-U-TEE-FUL thing ever. No daughter of mine in her right mind would come to me some day asking to walk down the isle in my white wedding frock. I can envision David Tutera asking why while pouring Kerosine with a strike match in hand. Princess A told me "in fifty years [your dress] will be cool again."
In fifty years I don't want to be around to find out.
Back in the box went the little white dress.
My favorite part of this eeeek! picture is the photographer's
desire to create a background with a single fake tree plus the fact that
my date was a bad imitation of Fantasy Island's Mr. Roarke.