Road Trip

Ah yes, the summer road trip. I remember them semi-fondly from my childhood. The smell of lemon Wet-Ones takes me right back to my Mom's 1970 (bought it new!) Ford Country Squire station wagon with the fake wood paneling. It had these little fold-out seats in the way back, so dangerous, but that's where I wanted to ride. We would leave from our home in Montana and drive all the way to California. The stops we made were the best. I preferred Cactus Pete motels. I liked the logo with the little guy asleep under the cactus and they had these really cool clover shaped pools and the added bonus of being located in Nevada where Mom could play the slots while we swam. Come to think of it, the pools were probably spade-shaped, not clover, weren't they? Another place had a pool with a window in one wall so the people in the motel bar could watch the swimmers. Now, I think that is the creepiest thing I've ever heard of, but at the time my brother and I were highly entertained, daring each other to perform stunts for the bar patrons. I've actually done a reunion road trip and re-visited some of those motels I loved so much. One of my favorites was this place in Idaho Falls. It was a round high-rise and the pool (it's all about the pool) had an island in the middle of it. That place set the bar for me. Anyway, I went to see this place a few years ago and was told they had remodeled and filled-in the pool. How could they? One time, we planned to stay at the Mark Twain Inn in Reno. We had a brochure that boasted of it's "Olympic swimming pool" and luxurious accommodations. When we got there it was this grungy, flea-infested little dive and I don't know how they got their camera to stretch the pool for the picture, but it certainly didn't impress me and I knew from pools. We packed back up and found a nice Holiday Inn, always dependable. Sometimes my Mom would let whoever was marginally close to driving age take over the wheel. Yes, there we were, barreling down the highway in the middle of the desert, Mom asleep and the rest of us holding on for dear life. Plus, talk about "are we there yet", this was the early 70s. Our entertainment was the radio (did I mention we were in the desert?) books if you could read through the Dramamine and each other. My brother and I learned to start each trip with the imaginary dividing line between us, it just made things much less hostile. This week I am embarking on a family road trip. A little 16 hour jaunt up north to see some family and friends.The kids complain, but they have no idea, do they? When part of the packing involves selecting DVDs they all will like, I'd say they need to pipe it! Plus, when we get there, the pool will be swell.

Sorry, wrong number

If you follow this blog, you know I have a little stalker. Go back a few posts to the one about Drama in Real Life and get caught up. Quick summary: a woman I used to be in business with but fortunately am no longer has changed her cell phone number to one almost identical to mine and I get calls for her all the day long. Now, I don't think she really digs me that much either and you would think she would have changed her number by now, but no. I get messages for her regarding her dogs, her new house, her kid's soccer, carpools and finally.... the one that I thought would put an end to all of it. I got a text message from her lover. Remember? She is in the middle of a very nasty divorce. Even her own soul mate can't get the phone number right. It went something like this: "Of course I still love you, Sweets. How could you think otherwise?"
I chuckled mightily when I got that message. I sat down and thought long and hard about what to do next. I even wrote a few texts in response that I didn't send. I had to do a great big character check. What I did may seem tame, but I had to consider that I live in not such a big town and we do have a lot of common friends. Plus, she's known for getting vigilante revenge and that ain't pretty. I really wanted my reply to end this whole mess. I wrote back: "Who in the #%&& is this and why are you calling me Sweets?" Then I wrote, "Tell "Jill" to change her phone number, getting her love notes is just too bizarre." The message back to me only said, "Sorry, wrong number". Do you think "Jill" got the message? I don't either.

Where there's a will..........

I am at an unfortunate age. Actually, the beginning of an unfortunate time of life, in that people older than me are starting or planning to die. Prepare yourself for morbid-r-us. My parents have asked me to help them get their "affairs in order" as they complete the sunset of their lives. Uh, okay. Why me? There are four kids in this family, some of whom have worked in finance! Some have worked in insurance! Some have worked with tax prep! No, they want me for reasons unknown. I bought a book called, "The Executor's Guide". My Mom is thrilled with my preparation. She assures me there is nothing to it, it's all in writing. This is a woman who still has her wedding lingerie in her dresser, from 50 years ago. She is married to a man who still has a home-made bomb shelter in his basement with 40 year-old canned food in case "the big one" should fall. Considering the unbelievably remote location where they live, I think they're pretty safe. Dad built their house when they were newlyweds. I wasn't kidding about the bomb shelter. Reinforced walls, the works. We should turn it into a museum! The house has another basement that has been used for various things over the years, mostly storage for all of the stuff they can't part with. I think I know why they picked me. It's suddenly clear. They know that I am the most sentimental of all the kids. My brother would be happy tipping the house on it's end and emptying it into a big dumpster. My sisters have mentioned arson. I, on the other hand, would probably find a place of honor for Great Auntie's hand knit tea cozy and every other little family doo dad. So, depending on how you look at it, I am either the perfect or the worst person for the job.

The Perfect Woman

Do you have a perfect woman in your life? You may be one and not even know it!

You know who I mean, she's pretty and thin, has cute kids and a perfect house. She usually has some other great talent, got good grades and is generally all-around fabulous. Well, I have two of them in my life. We'll call them Type-A and Type-A+. Type-A is a CPA with an architect husband and two little boys. They live in a stunning house of his design and manage to take many fun-filled vacations. She is also an award winning dancer and although in her late 30's has the body of a showgirl. I once helped her move to a new home and when I came across some random thing I asked her where her junk drawer was located. She just looked at me and said, "I don't have one of those." HUH? Can I just tell you how many of "those" I have and that they are the key to my sanity? I secretely got an evil jolly when she became pregnant, thinking kids would really shake up her reality. Plus, childbirth is messy! Of course children have not swayed her from her orderly course one bit. Her boys have always slept through the night and always put their toys in the pottery barn cubicles when they are finished playing.

Type-A+ is perfect in her own way, which is what makes having two of them as friends particularly diabolical. A+ isn't wealthy, but I swear the girl can do anything. Her husband travels a lot and she knows how to do any kind of home maintenance. She once built her own screen door and painted it the perfect shade of Martha Stewart green. At any given time she has a jumbo batch of frozen cookie dough ready to slice and bake. Homemade, of course. She is a Jill of all trades and is literally the Google of our neighborhood. If you need an answer, ask A+. The only thing A+ isn't really, really good at is calling before she comes over. I swear it's a test! She pops in unannounced to make sure she is still number one. You could drop in on her at any hour and she would be ready for company and would invite you to lunch. She'd even send you home with flowers from her garden. If you've read my blog, you know how I feel about unexpected company. Bing Bong! Oh look, it's A+ at my door, kids in tow. I clean my house, I really do, but I'm not ready for company with no notice. Instead of going through the apologies for the state of my post-Fourth of July house, I just closed the door behind me and we visited in the yard! She weeded my flower bed, no joke. That's not the first time I've done that and I'm sure it's a topic in the neighborhood. I am the crazy lady who won't let you in her house unless she specifically invites you in. Kool-aid Mom, I ain't. I just like to give myself a big old break now and then and just be a bag lady and play with my kids. That is not the time for the white glove brigade to stop by for inspection. Clearly, I have issues. But I always call before I come over.