Too Dam Hot in STL to Blog Much

So, since it is a blazing 100* (feels like 112*) in the shade...

I thought a little entertainment was in order. A slip back in time. A mini fashion show compliments of Princess A & Princess M (I keep forgetting I can officially call her that, and it isn't self proclaimed like you-know-who)... a throw back to the swimwear of the early 1990s. (Only I would have these beauties tucked away in the back of my summer drawer.)

 I think I must have been watching a few to many Gilligan's Island reruns on TV Land...there is the Mary Anne two piece and then the sultry Ginger suit with its french cut leg. Oooolala. Need I mention that to wear these beauties I weighed 114 pounds. Now that makes thinking of the 90s somewhat painful, sigh.

The great thing about the "Ginger" suit is, it could double as a beauty pageant suit, for the swimwear category.  (In the interview category this contestant's answer to everything would be: "world peace")

 Man-oh-man did I have fashion sense in the 90s or what!? So if you're hungry for some vintage beachwear, you know where to find me.

The Girl Who Changed My Name

Twenty-one years ago I gazed down at this beautiful face

and the beautiful face gazed back at me. 

In that moment I became "mom".

One of many of the happiest days of my life.

Happy Birthday Princess A! 

I love you!!  

Modeling Vintage

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....

switch-a-roo

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.

FLASHBACK

Prom:

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.

WEDDING DAY:

Aaaahhh, my dress looked pretty in 1987. 



Remembering Those Lovies of Yesterday

Princess A called me to her bedroom to help her with her new bed skirt.  In the dismantling of the mattress to get to the box spring and removing the old bed skirt an old familiar friend flopped to the ground--Peppermint Rose.  For years I use to swear my derelict father mailed it to Princess A in one of guilt packages.  Then one Christmas break we sat around watching old home movies when it revealed itself that Peppermint Rose was actually a gift from one of King Ralph's family members for Princess A's first birthday.

Peppermint Rose was not Princess A's original lovey, no she was a replacement for Baby.  Baby was the comfort pal of her life for more than two years.  Baby with her pink silky body and her plastic face.  She drug her along to the hospital one day when I was having some tests done.  Somewhere between the radiation lab and the parking lot Baby went missing.  I called every phone in the hospital, placed a APB out on her, filed a missing person report all to no avail.  baby was gone--forever!  My mother-in-law surprised Princess A with a replacement Baby and a fib that she found her.  Princess A was no two year old worthy of trickery.  She turned Baby over to reveal the black thread (cause that's what was in the sewing machine at the time and it was a stuffed doll for goodness sake) used to close up a restuff job was not there.  She lifted Baby in the air, slammed her to the ground and in her squeaky two year old little girl voice belted out "that's not my Baby".  For a year she went lovey-less, until one day without warning she pulled this Holly Hobbie like doll from a pile of stuffed animals, named her and feel deeply in love.  Peppermint Rose was born to her soul of comfort.  Ole' Peppermint Rose has been cried on when friends disappointed.  Has been slammed when parents didn't agree with choices made. Soothed through three surgeries-- regardless of Princess A's age (14, 16, 17).  Been an extra plump of pillow for sleeping. Peppermint Rose has traveled the world--from slumber parties down the street to across the country and across the world.  She never made it to college, by that time she was fragile.  Her arms laced to her body with safety pins.  Her guts held in too by yet more safety pins.  Her big round face sunk in from lack of filler...refusing a cotton batting botox injection.

Peppermint Rose has been a loyal lovey--never replaced. 

And yet in her ragged state of being Peppermint Rose still has a place of honor on Princess A's bed.

Not to be out done by Peppermint Rose, M had her years of love for Sugar Monkey.  Sugar Monkey came to us by way of a Build-a-Bear....a Girl Scout field trip.  Sugar Monkey was once soft plush like velvet now a matted rough animal.  She was easy to want to snuggle all day and night.  Sugar Monkey made the same rounds as Peppermint Rose--slumber parties, camping trips, cruises, airplane rides....  The crazy thing about Sugar Monkey is although M always claimed she was a girl the rest of  us claimed her to gender confused. Me mostly because when I would make M's bed in the morning while she was at school, tossing Sugar Monkey on the bed she often landed with her tail between her legs.  A sign of a male.  As M entered her teen years folks often purposely would set Sugar Monkey on the bed in that center fold porn position just to get M all riled up.  Squeals from her room would be heard "Sugar Monkey is a girrrrrlllll!!!!"   Sugar Monkey was constantly under torment, she took many rides on the ceiling fan blades which sent M into hysterics and tears.  Sisters. That is all can say.  One freshman day in high school without warning Sugar Monkey took a permanent vacation to the top self of M's closest.  Sure Sugar Monkey was loved, she offered the same comfort all lovies offer-- heart ache from friends, healing after countless eye surgeries, extra lift to the night's slumber...I guess my M grew up when I blinked one day and didn't need her monkey love anymore.

Today Sugar Monkey popped out for a keepsake photo shoot.

 Oh Sugar Monkey I still believe you to be gender confused. Just look at you, you say male.


Then there was D's lovey, or should I say lovies.  First there was Bob, always Bob.  Bob started out a lush fluffy nursery comforter.  Bob, before named Bob, covered up everyone of my baby girls as they slumbered in their infant state.  Bob is now but a large square of muslin.  Bob was strung between D's legs and nuzzled up under her chin and lulled to my girly to sleep.  Bob has been washed more times than I can count; washed from being drug through mud, held during meals, urinated and puked on and washing was always done on the sneak.  Then came the years of "Land Before Time" obsession.  Every character of that movie series in plush form was gifted to D and lined her bed.  However Chomper was always front and center.  Chomper was drug all around town--grocery stores, play dates, family gathering, where D went Chomper went.  Chomper if accidentally left behind required instant emergency retrieval.  Tears flowed and nights would be sleepless if Chomper didn't join Bob for a night's rest.  Although D never liked the femininity flares of girlhood (till recently)-- Chomper did, he got a red lipstick lip painted above his fierce teeth.  Which stained his fur.  Open his mouth for signs of lesson learned--ability to write "no" and teach a dinosaur that biting is unacceptable is marked in ink inside his mouth.  Another sweet stain on the lovey.  Finally along came Mr.Lion.  Mr. Lion was a gift from the creepy Santa that visited an annual Santa party we attended each year at M's godfather's house.  The Santa, creepy as he was with his over active sweat glands and request of a fan to blow him cool, always arrived with gifts in his sack.  One year it was the softest silkiest stuffed lion.  For a while D was smothered and cramped in bed by not one, two, but three lovies.  A sign she was always a high maintenance child.  In time Chomper was outgrown.  Mr. Lion and Bob stuck.  Mr. Lion was so loved he went from having a full standing mane of fur to looking like Don King.  D loathed when we referred to Mr. Lion as Don King--such disrespect.  Then, just like M, with no warning of ween, Mr. Lion took permanent seat else where.  Bob hung on till eighth grade.  High school started and Bob was folded up and with precious care placed in the storage room for safe keeping.

Memories tucked tenderly in safe keeping. Memories I can imagine emerging for show and tell when the girls are mother's themselves. Makes me think...remember...my baby girls.  I blinked and they grew.  Grew up. Still growing up.  Growing up minus the lovies that were there childhoods yet knowing with all that love these mother's arm still offer love that cannot be replaced or stored away.             

Oh Louie the Triton She'll Learn to Love You--Someday

Today was the day of realization.  The day Princess A had to reckon with the demon inside of her...the demon of feeling like a traitor...coming to terms with the decision she made herself.  It was an inner battle between Rawdy the Red Hawk and Louie the Triton.  While a red hawk is an actual creature, a [Triton] named Louie is a mythical creature...Princess A kind of feels like she left her real world and is in a mythical land.  I call it transition, she calls it reality.

This morning was orientation.  Why ever did I agree to go?  New school, new system to learn, love for my child.  Yep that's the reasons.  However, when they threw me in a room with parents that were virgins to the send off of a child to college..."Letting Go" was the last seminar I needed to be forced to attend.  Fifty minutes of chat about kids doing there own laundry (I stopped doing her laundry long before I sent her off to college), shedding tears when you say that final good-bye (which I didn't do two years ago because I was excited for her venture) and setting up a communication system-- when to call your child. (I plan to call Princess A from the kitchen to her bedroom often).  Why oh why does the parent of a transfer commuter student need to sit through such a seminar?!  Princess A was questioning why she needed to attend seminars on how to navigate the university's website and how to be safe on campus (as she waved her mace in a pink container at the campus police officer as he lectured). 

While we ate our complimentary lunch (is anything really complimentary...by look of the tuition bill I say no); Princess A and I agreed to bounce.  I didn't think we were above the room full of parents and students but when you have done it in one place it feels like repetition. You know same song different tune.

We headed off together to tend to a few lose strings; Princess A with her list of "to do's" and me with the wallet.  That's why I came along, to pay for stuff like a parking permit and books....

From the corner of my eye I caught glimpse of a different mascot.  This mascot looked like a chicken that had been rolled over by a truck--hardly competiton to Louie the mythical creature that looks like a red lizard.  I asked a campus administrator standing there who the chicken was.  It was explained that the chicken was a mascot that student life uses to get the student body pumped up to join activities. When I asked why a chicken though, the administrator just shrugged her shoulders.  I'm telling you it was like someone went to a mascot recycling center and decided a chicken that looked like it had been run over by a truck seemed like a good idea.  Guess we'll see if the matted chicken pecks Princess A to get involved in her new place of higher education.        

Then we filled out an evaluation, scored a couple of free university T-shirts (free is never free it's all in the tuition, right?) and bounced.

And so, the period of transition is set to begin.

In the Blink of an Eye

This once cute little girl called home tonight and says "I'm calling to hear the story of my birth." A ritual routinely practiced each year the night before the girl's birthday at bedtime.

This year, on her birthday came the telephone request...with a sorority sister listening in.

Now the once cute little thing I helped create is a twenty-year old beauty.

In the blink of an eye.

Happy Birthday Princess A. You are loved!

Selfish Me

Last Tuesday we got a call to bring Princess A home from college because she had mono and bronchitis. She has had an unexpected extended Thanksgiving break.

Now I must admit that I am feeling a bit mommy selfish, as I know she wishes she was still sitting in her sorority dorm room pinned down at her desk studying and laughing with the "sisters"...I love my girly being home. There is something about this family home feeling complete and, although we are always complete despite distance or absence it just feels heart warming when we are all under the same roof.

Today I think my Princess has perked back. Sure she is still sluggish but that has something to do with getting in the habit of sleeping three-fourth of the day away in the name of healing. I saw signs of life returning yesterday in her.

So if you don't mind I am going to relish in the selfish heart I have for having extra time with my first born. Because I love, enough though she was sick, her looking at me when I walked in the room asking me to sit next to her and love her.

Don't worry I already added this to my list of thanksgiving.

This Day Is Being Temporarily Interupted

Boxes, boxes, boxes. That is all we do, move boxes up the stairs and to the car.

This Day is being temporarily interrupted to load, unload and deposit Princess A back to college.

Last year I was over the top excited for my big girl to explore this new chapter, new adventure of her life. This year I feel a bit verklempted. Why? I think because Princess A had a hard time coming home for summer break, readjusting to life with the family, the loss of that thought she had total independence...and recently she molded back into what makes us us--a complete family. I going to miss her more this year than last. I just feel it in my heart.

I have a pot roast on the stove to send her back to school with--her request. Which means...I must part here, tend to the meat and move more boxes.

At Least We Didn't Name You Rumer, Apple or Moon

I had started to blog when the phone rang; it was Uncle Dan informing us that the space station was about to fly over our houses. Like the geeks we are we all rushed outside, continued talking on the phone till we all spotted the fast moving ball of light...once confirmed we said good-bye.

This is the kind of excitement we crave this summer...excitement of nothingness.

While we are talking space... Princess A came home from work and what prompted the conversation I will never know but we started talking about the spelling of her name. She said people always ask what her full name is; they can’t believe her real name is not just a nickname. Then she told us how her sorority sisters always tell her in so many words that her parents were on crack when they came up with the spelling. King Ralph defending himself, us, tells her the spelling is Romanian Transylvanian something or other, to which Princess A just laughs at him in her queer sort of way. I tell her we agreed on the unusual one-of-a-kind spelling in the instance she became some famous human being making her an authentic individual. Then she says her name spelling is odd she should just spell her name backwards and it would be just as weird. So instead of Princess Alee (pronounced: a like in apple - lee or alley) she would be Princess Eela. We told her it sounds very Star Wars. Very galactic. (George Lucas you can thank us later for your new character name)

Then we went to dinner where King Ralph told Princess Eela that she needs to tell her Jewish boy (boy is used in reference by Princess A since he skipped the bar mitzvah which is the marking of becoming a man) that he wants to go fishing down at the pond and share a beer so they can bond. I think it must have been the mariachi band and the monster beer talking at our chosen dining establishment. Actually I would love to see King Ralph actually bond with one of the Princess Eela's young male suitors instead of stretched out in the recliner in an intimidating position remedying fear in the young men who enter our home. The stars will really need to aligned just for this to occur.

Princess Eela says while King Ralph is out fishing with Jewish boy she is going over to his mother's house to play a few flute duets. The boy's mother actually suggested since they are both flutist that they hang out and play duets. I guess the fact that her son is dating a Christian girl is all forgotten by the fact she plays the flute.

So while they are out fishing and fluting I might just work on that matzoth ball soup recipe.

She Told Me She Wasn't Going to Work at McDonald's

I wish I could say "good morning", well it is a good morning it's just I am dragging tired. You see Uli, our cute but stupid pooch is terrified of storms. As luck has it a 3am summer storm rolled in and the fact I was being nice by not locking Uli in her cage meant she was spinning in 90mph circles at the foot of my bed and yapping with fear. It is a most comical sight...but not at 3am! This went on for an hour... even from her cage; where I decided she was best to be trapped.

However I have woke early today...one because King Ralph couldn't find his clean uniform pants (which I retrieved for my wardrobe challenged hubby) and two because Princess A started her new job in a most familiar place.

I have been threatening my little princess since the week she took hard to the pavement failing to find a summer job that I was driving her tail to McDonald's to get employment. I explained-- it was either flipping burgers or no sorority life when she returns to college. We pay tuition but not sorority dues so she needed a J-O-B in a bad way.

The week we left for vacation we had our regular visit to the eye doctor. We all love the eye doctor, you almost have to when let the guy constantly cut on your daughters' eyeballs and sew their muscles in different locations. Anyway we are always laughing in doctor's office, ribbing each other and teasing the doc about years of being in his holding tank watching episodes of Veggie Tales to entertain while in the holding pattern. We laughed that M has so many specialist that her middle name is "million dollar co-pay" but that eye doc is our favorite of all her specialist. He then said we are his favorites as well. How sweet is that? His whole staff is so warm and inviting, so truly caring. You aren't just a number-- at least we have never felt that way. He has made a generous donation to the school's marching band for the Rose Bowl Parade trip, he has called as soon as we get home from the hospital to make sure the girls are comfortable, his assistant has shed tears with and for my nervous girl. You learn to trust and they in return care. With two kids with unusual eye concerns we spend a great deal of time hanging around in that office.

Princess A went into her exam room solo for the first time where she had "grown-up" conversation with the doctor. In the conversation was discussion on if she was working this summer, to which she commented she was on the prowl with little success. While were gone on vacation the doctor's assistant called and left Princess A two messages, which included her cell number. Hmmmm what could she want? All I could think of was that they would want Princess A's permission to use her unusual and difficult eye condition/case for a teaching tool. That wasn't it at all. Nope. The doctor wanted to offer Princess A a summer job. Go Figure?!

So this morning Princess A rose before seven, put on a lose and home spun version of the office uniform, I slapped some lunch money in her palm (because that is what moms do), then I crossed my fingers that her first experience in rush hour traffic down Highway 270 would be successful...because the best way to learn rush hour driving technique is to dive head first into the ocean of bumper to bumper traffic.

Then I waited. Waited for her to call me to say she arrived safely. 8:21am she called and I rolled over to drift back to sleep.

Now I wait,wait to hear all about her first day on the job. How she is taking her relationship with the eye doctor's office to a whole new level and learning to perform in a "real" working world with important purpose. How she maneuvered the rush hour drives. What she spent her lunch money on. I'm just really excited that she has this opportunity to grow. I'm thriled she has a J-O-B!

easter

The Writing Prompt

Write about a special day you have had. That is what the writing prompt instructed.

As I sat in the silent room watching the pencils draw story webs, scribbling thoughts across lined paper...my mind wandered to its own place--my special day.

1990.

We decided on burritos for dinner. We must have loved the idea of cooking for two because we didn't simplify the dinner crave by passing through a drive-thru. Instead we strolled up and down the isles of our local grocery store grabbing cubes of ground beef, cans of refried beans, lettuce and tomatoes from the produce section. Sour Cream and grated cheddar. Flour tortillas. We even rented a movie.

Two more days we would say as we continued our count down with sheer excitement.

It was when we got home that I realized this dinner for two...well, it wouldn't much longer be just the two of us.

We still cooked those burritos. And, still I ate that burrito. It tasted better than ever.

We watched the movie; what I watched I cannot remember. I do remember pacing the floor, wearing a marked path in that recently laid carpet. I breathed. I panted. He timed. I moaned. Then we agreed, it was time.

I remember the moment we pulled into the hospital parking lot looking at one another and commenting we would walk in as a couple, but leave as a family. An amazing thought.

I labored 6 more hours and all the while he stood by my side-- holding my hand, rubbing my foot, feeding me ice chips. Then the miracle happened.

She burst into this world and made him cry. The only time I have ever seen tears braise his cheeks. The pride. The joy. The love. The miracle. New life.

I coddled that tiny swaddled being in my arms, unwrapping the soft blanket to count the toes. I grazed my pointer finger across her petite delicate lips, then kissed her cheeks--as if to say welcome to this world. My heart was filled with love. A kind of love.

She was mine. Ours. Ever so perfect.

We were now a family.

We planted her. I sprouted her. We have watered her. She has bloomed like a rose.

Happy Nineteenth Birthday Princess A. Love you!

Weekend Recap

I am still in recovery mode from an extreme event weekend.

Here's a few photo highlights:

The Color Guard at the Friday night football game--performed for a team that remains undefeated. Go Flyers!

Then I woke up (still tired) and made the same fourteen Roaring 20's hairstyles I made just 16 hours earlier--in preparation for the band's first competition (where they placed second).
(M working her moves on the 30 yard line, managing not to cross into the tuba player this time).

While King Ralph and I played out divide and conquer; he headed to SEMO for family weekend and the AXO BBQ. Then drove up to Farmington-- to join me-- with Princess-Baby AXO in tow to show support for M. Then we all drove down to SEMO to finish off family weekend.

The sisters sit on that roommate free bed. King Ralph wants to help the Princess become an entrepreneur by hanging a sign on her door that says something like this: locked out? kicked out? knock on the door twice hand over a ten. He thinks she can rent out that unoccupied bed and rake in some extra dough.

While M took to the unoccupied bed free of charge...she got to experience a dorm fire alarm at 4am, with a sleep interrupted evacuation.

I sat up all night just knowing I should have accepted that door to door invite to the frat party--where frat boy promised there would be games and prizes. Game: Quarters? Prize: Keep the quarter after you chug the cup of beer?

House Bunny

There's a new bunny in the SEMO Alpha Chi Omega house.

And she's a better vision of Greek pink than Anna Faris is as Shelley Darlington in The House Bunny.

A matter of fact all these LHS alumni are the cutest visions of Greek pink. Don't you think?
(Princess A is the girl farthest on the right)

Campcation Cut Short

If it wasn't bad enough that our last minute choice to go camping and floating on the Meramec River wasn't disorganized enough (we won't talk about how I forgot to pack pots for cooking, bug spray, charcoal or pillows for King Ralph and I) it suddenly came to screeching halt at 530am today.

I guess when our child returns for her first weekend home from college in a lethargic state we should have heeded the warning sign as to what could come. Or when she woke on Saturday morning saying her throat hurt a little; we shouldn't have brushed it off with the statement "you must have drainage". Maybe when she got a fever midday and I was feeding the Princess ibuprofen like M&M candies, the sirens should have blared, to me, to pack up and leave right then.

So this morning at 530am when an 18 year old Princess A stood at the foot of my camper bed crying saying how sick she felt, didn't sleep all night and how terrible her throat hurt I knew this was something more. I tried really hard to find an urgent care center in the area where we were camping that our insurance accepted. Not because I wanted to continue camping or even go floating but, because I wanted the fasted medical care I could get for my sick Princess.

Who would think this river town has nothing my insurance company can offer. No urgent care centers closer than 75 miles. No Walgreens with a nurse who does rapid strep tests. Or even a doctor willing to make camper calls. So we packed fast and made a b-line for our doctor's office before the Sunday hours ended.

All the doctor had to do was look at that swollen, tonsils-meeting-in-the-middle, flaming red, purple, black and blue, bloody, puss throat and know what was wrong.

Strep!

Actually I was worried it could be mono so, a positive strep culture was a welcomed relief.

And although the owner of the campground and float company is the biggest penis along the Meramec River I managed to convince him that rain checking our float trip to October 2008 wasn't in the least bit sensible. I got it extended to June 8, 2008. It was almost obvious this man has never fathered a child or is just plain heartless.

I think both.

I am so glad that she is home for me to take care of and not lying around in her dorm room alone feeling like poo. Now I'll just pray that my Princess who is now having a sickcation is well enough to return to college tomorrow.

Here's to the speed of antibiotics.

Ramen Noodles By the Case

Oh yes, Ramen Noodles by the case--the way of a college student.

Princess A is officially settled at Southeast Missouri State University in Towers East.

I am so exhausted as we chose early bird registration to beat the rush of the freshman crowd and the mile long line of cars waiting to unload those cases of Ramen Noodles. Let me just say I am so glad we chose the early bird route. We had a slue of Greeks to carry, our packed to the gill, carload of necessaries ( I say with a hint of playful sarcasm because I am not sure a lime green throw pillow with marabou is a necessity) to the eighth floor. The thing about getting Greek muscles at 730am is, they are not whipped by the heat or the constant lifting of refrigerators and TV's. We spent the whole day with Princess A getting her dorm room set up, shopping (for Ramen Noodles), having a lunch date at the Olive Garden...

So instead of jabbering on about nonsense (like how I was mistakenly mistook for the college student, kidding) lets just let the pictures speak for me. Introducing the dorm room of Princess A and Samantha.

Room Mates

Living La Vida Lofta

Where a Princess studies to keep her scholarship Where a Princess brushes her teeth and washes up

The parents didn't cry when they left their baby to spread her wings and fly

Good luck Alee-Oop remember, to call on Sundays...if for nothing else but to ask for money. XOXO!

The Par-tay

There were so many options for Saturday fun; the Strawberry Festival or even the Horseradish Festival, but they all chose our house-- to celebrate Princess A being a graduate of the Class of 2008. We did it, we hosted a graduation party sans rain with a touch of St. Louis humidity . And, in this town that is an incredible weather feat! The no rain not the humidity-- that's a given in this town.

It was a great day, lots of family and friends.

We feasted, feasted and feasted some more. From the feast came orders from Brian for my guacamole for his graduation party and my tortellini pasta salad for Katie's graduation party.

We sweated a little; some more than others...especially King Ralph as he stood over the BBQ pit grilling oriental marinated chicken. There is not a single slice of cake or even a single chocolate covered strawberry left to tempt our sweet tooth. There is however some my fabulous homemade sangria left--so you are all invited over Tuesday for beverage-- no joke! I would invite you all tomorrow but we continue on the graduation party circuit and, then we are taking the left over chicken and sides to my sister-in-law's for an evening dip in her pool (God knows we all could use a pool day to cool off. What the fun happened to spring?)

Oh ya, Elvis did leave the building. I found a note on the framed sign I left in his place and it read "Bull Caa-Caa He's gotta come back some time!" Sounds like the kidnappers where a little disappointed I out witted.

Did every one have a great time? In the words of my mother-in-law's newly acquired lingo--"fo' shizzle!" There is nothing more hilarious than the girls teaching grandma hip lingo or, in this case my sister who wanted her to impress Princess A and her friends. The words took a few trials to evolve-- fo' shizzle started out as fo' shingle. When she did master the lingo she got a huge roar of laughter from the gathered grads as she told Princess A good-bye using fo' shizzle in her sign off.

I am running out of steam on this hamster wheel of life. So I will bid farewell.