Parkour, Celebs, Day-drinking, and Three-hole potties: My trip to DC

I'm in a dumb phase lately.  I can hardly think a coherent thought.  Tonight I sat next to a man I work with every single day and I could not for the life of me remember his name.  Then I had to get money from the ATM and I couldn't remember my pin number.  Jesus, what is happening to me?  And the dumbest thing I've done is totally forgetting to write about my trip to DC with my sisters!!!

We went for a long weekend because Amy was going to run in the Marine Marathon, but she got a deferment for a year because she didn't exactly train in any way whatsoever.  Oh well, we decided to go to DC anyway and it was FUN.

The first night we checked into our hotel and got settled, then went for a walk.  Our hotel was right downtown, kind of by the white house, so we walked down there to see it.  It was lit up pink for breast cancer month.

Then we were walking around and Beth was talking about how she is really into Parkour lately.  You know, Parkour?  Like this:

Amy and I didn't quite believe her and told her to prove it.  She took on the challenge and jumped off a one foot step, and then leap-frogged this barrier-thing which would have been really cool if she didn't stub her crotch and fall down.  If the barrier was three inches shorter, it might have been impressive.  So then I tried to jump over a fire-hydrant but forgot I was wearing a skort and almost killed myself.  We are lucky we came back from Washington with all our teeth.  Here's Amy Parkouring her ass all over the place.

The next day Amy and I went for a run.  No, you shut up.  I can run!  We ran for about 23 miles all over the Mall area.

 Amy says it absolutely was not 23 miles but I don't know how she knows it wasn't because we didn't map it out or anything. It was probably pretty close to 23.  

We went to the Holocaust Museum.  Depressing.  They have a gift shop in the lobby so you can shop for key chains and coffee mugs that say "We Shall Never Forget" all over it.  There was even a little stuffed bear in a trench coat who was wearing a little tag that said, "I'm a refugee."  It was a bit much.  Amy thinks that a bar would do better business than a gift shop because after going through and seeing all the horrors that was the Holocaust, a person really needs a good stiff drink.

So then we went to have a good stiff drink, which leads me to the day-drinking portion of our trip.  We did a lot of that.  That's what vacations are for, right?  At one bar we sat next to a guy that told us that Chris Brown of beating-the-shit-out-of-Rhianna fame was arrested at the W Hotel right across the street from us. Turned out to be true.  Some guy photo-bombed a picture Brown was in so he ran after the guy and mercilessly beat him.  Seems like an appropriate response.  We also went to the W Hotel (fancy schmancy) to have a drink in the bar that is on the roof.  It was nice but every table had a reserved sign on it and nobody came to sit at them.  I got a free beer.

Saturday we went to MOUNT VERNON!  We took a boat from DC up the Potomac to the estate.

Amy and Kristen on the boat to Mount Vernon.  They can
barely contain their excitement.

 Unfortunately we only got four hours to tour the place.  I thought it was kind of a rush, but nobody else did.  You can see barely anything in four hours.  We hit the high points:  The house, museum, tomb, wharf-area.

This guy took us through a hay-bale maze.  What's the point of a hay-bale maze, you ask?  I don't know.  You can see right over it and figure out your path.  Easy.  This guy said to shut our eyes and go through conga style.  It was weird.

Then I saw one of my favorite Mount Vernon attractions:

The three-hole outhouse.  Amy asked me once if I could meet George Washington and talk to him, but only if we were both using the three-hole outhouse, would I do it?  Probably.

The next day was the marathon so we went to watch the runners.  It was a beautiful day and it was fun to watch the marathon.  The people at the front of the pack run fast the whole time.  I mean FAST.  It's not a sprint, j'all!

We met some cool people while we were there.  We saw Senator Franken at the airport and said hello to him.  We met a retired Capitol Police guy at a diner one morning and got him talking about senators who are all bluster in public and who cry in the elevator at the end of the day.  And we met Carlos Arredondo, an activist who helped save people after the Boston bombing.  I recognized him from a picture and we talked with him for a while.  He is a fantastically nice person.  I was really happy we got to meet him and I got to take a picture with him and an ice-cream sandwich.

The last day we were there we walked around for miles and miles and miles.  We went to the Smithsonian Portrait Gallery too.

Amy took this picture of me nerding it up in front of a statue of George Washington surrendering his commission after the Revolutionary War.  He was dreamy.

I also got this really cool photo of the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial.  Nobody was there right then because the marathon was going on and everyone was cheering on the runners.

But before I got that good picture, I got this one:

This lady literally ran into the frame at the last second.  I wish I knew who she was so I could send her the picture.  

Summer Vacation!

I have been having a lot of fun lately, and I know when I tell you about it you are going to be jealous and then probably write me off and not pay any attention to me anymore, but I'm going to risk it.  You'll get over it.

On the 4th of July Mitch and the kids and I went out on Mitch's brother's Mat's boat to watch the fireworks. It was glorious!

The Coast Guard stopped us because the four kids and I were sitting on the bow.  The kids were all wearing life-jackets so they gave us five Dairy Queen coupons for "all the kids on the bow wearing life-jackets."  Hey!  They thought I was a kid!  And they also thought I was wearing a life jacket.  Time to lose some weight!

On the morning of the fourth, my friend Shelly and I went to the Duluth Rowing Club for a rowing lesson with our gym trainer, Jeff.  He is a rowing coach.  He took Shelly, another teacher named Jane, and me out on a four person boat.  It was so much fun!  The weather was perfect and the water was like glass.  Apparently over the last hundred years or so the boats used for the sport of rowing have been designed and improved and engineered to be perfect rowing machines, but that didn't stop us from giving Jeff suggestions on how the boat could be better.  You are supposed to cross your hands left over right in the middle of the stroke.  Shelly suggested that right over left would be better and I suggested that maybe they should just make the oars shorter so no crossing was necessary in the first place.  Jeff explained that the boat is designed to be perfectly balanced when the rowers put their left hand over their right hand, and that the oars needed to be the length they are for the optimal amount of leverage in the row.  We are still skeptical.  

He has a lot of patience.  

A few days later I went to see Brandi Carlile in concert.  She was FABULOUS!  She has so much talent packed into a tiny, adorable little package.  What a voice!  It was an outdoor concert along a river in Des Moines.  Gorgeous night!

A few days after that my sister Beth and Mitch and I went to the Richard Thompson/My Morning Jacket/Wilco/Bob Dylan concert here in Duluth.  It was a lot of fun.  My sister Amy was heading to Duluth that evening and said, "I'd really love to go to the concert with you guys if it wasn't Bob Dylan."  Apparently she's not a fan.  Amy and Beth went to a Dylan concert many years ago when they were teenagers and apparently he just stood in a dark corner and sang unintelligibly.  He was pretty good this time but he didn't say one word to the audience and at one point when he was singing Beth said, "I wish there were subtitles."

Later that night my sisters and I came back to my house and celebrated Amy being back from Afghanistan by eating Doritos and Top The Tater, drinking Miller Light, and learning how to twerk from instructional videos on the internet.  Oh, you don't know what twerking is?  It is the latest gross dance kids are doing to horrify their parents.  Basically you squat down and shake your undercarriage.

Beth got pretty good at it with some practice but Amy is hopeless.  Her twerk was mostly arms with not much going on below the waist.  We kept yelling, "Less arms!"  but that just made her shake her arms more.  I don't know why that happened because arms aren't even a small part of a good twerk.  When I do it I feel like I'm really moving, but apparently I'm just sort of standing still making pigeon movements with my head.  SEXY SEXY SEXY!  

Seafood and Computer Magic

Okay, I've really sucked at blogging lately.   I have to get back on the ball.  First of all, I want to tell you about the high points of Christmas.  I told you before about the presents my sister Beth has gotten me over the years: the appliance box of old rated R VHS tapes for my kids; the case of dollar store fish-n-crackers; the receipt for a case of Diet coke she bought me the previous summer that I forgot to pay her back for, wrapped nicely in a box with a bow.

Well, this year I was looking for something for her.  I got her some nice(ish) things but I wanted to get her one more thing.  I shopped around and couldn't decide on anything.  So I went to the dollar store to get some wrap and tape and stuff.  I looked through the food aisle to see if they still had the same fish-n-crackers.  They did, along with a surprisingly wide variety of canned fish.  I know, I thought, I'll get her a seafood extravaganza!  Who doesn't love sea food?  I got her a box of the fish-n-crackers she loves so much, a can of tuna, a tin of kipper snacks, a tin of anchovies, and best of all a dented, dusty can of clams.  I got a cute basket and a teeny bottle of Asti Spumanti (to class it up) and wrapped it up beautifully.  She loved it.  Who wouldn't?

Over Christmas I also learned that my dad is a gifted computer whiz.  We were going to Skype with my sister Amy who is in Afghanistan right now (she's in the service, not on vacation) and my dad couldn't remember his Skype password.  We told him to reset it.  So he clicked the "I forgot my password" button and Skype sent him a link to make up a new password.  He couldn't get it to work so he handed me the computer in frustration and told me to do it.  I said, "What password did you choose?"  He couldn't remember the password he made up two minutes before.  No, I shouldn't say that, he couldn't remember if it was the dog's name, or the dog's name1.  It was either/or.  I figured it out by typing one, then typing the other to see which one would work.  He was amazed.

While I was there I used his computer to go on Facebook and I forgot to log myself out.  Then I got this email:

UMmmmmmmmmmmm, Sarah you turd! You dicked around with my Facebook setting so when I click on it, your page comes up, not mine. How do I get it back to mine. Next time you come up I get to spend an hour using your computer and we'll see how you like it. Why has my typeface changed? NOW What did you do to this computer? Dad

Yeah, that's right, I can now make his computer switch to italics anytime I want.  Don't mess with me or I'll do it to you too.

Be careful what you wish for...

Well don't you all just loooooooove the idea of me sending my sister who is in Afghanistan a picture of myself with the worst haircut ever given to anyone who has had haircuts.  I have spent most of the past four days trying my hardest to keep my head from looking like a fat bird, but last night I stopped the constant smoothing for a while and then took some pictures of myself for my sister and I SENT THEM TO HER.  Are you all happy now?  I did that for my own personal troop.  What are you doing for your troop?  Don't have a troop?  You can share mine.  She says she loves getting mail over there so send her something.  Some magazines, or some gum, or some cookies, some holiday decorations, or some pictures of YOU with a bad haircut.  Her address is:

LCDR Amy Lindahl

PRT URUZGAN

FOB Tarin Kowt

APO AE 09380

Send her something, Smarties. Now I know you are all dying to see my crazy awful bird hair so I am going to post it, but this is not for you, dear reader, this is also for my troop because nothing makes a sister happier than when another sister looks silly, right Amy?  Right, Beth?  Right sisters all over the world?  (And also because Amy has a blog and I wanted to scoop her on this hot story.)

There must be some magical under-cutting on the sides that I can't find because without constant management those wings want to fly.

Side view.  There is nothing in the back to support those wings.  And nothing on the top to hold them down.  Just fluffy feathers.

This is just for Amy and Beth.  A gross, lipless, multi-chinned oversmile.  You're welcome.

Decision 2012

This is a Facebook chat between my sister and me this morning:

Amy: I DO have a package to send you....since I didn't get you a b-day present....

Me: Is it a blue burka?

Amy: I got Sid and Mills some 'jewels' at the bazaar last weekend. And no, it's not a blue burka. You're NOT getting a blue burka. Those are creepy.

Me: But that's what I want!!! I got a horrific haircut on Saturday. I've never wished more for a blue burka.

Amy: I want to see a picture. And I'll see what I can do....there's certainly enough of them around here. Geez.

Me: No pictures. Just imagine a fluffy fat bird with teeny little wings. That's my hair.

Amy: HA HA! PICTURE!! Come on....your followers would LOVE it!!

Me: No. It's too horrible. That's why I need a burka.

Amy: NO you don't! What does Kira say about it?

Me: I would wear the burka and say it is in protest of the taliban, but really I'd just be waiting for my horrid haircut to grow out. Kira calls me "Sir."

Amy: HA HA HA HA HA!! I'm going to tell her to take a picture and send it to me....

Me: No.

Amy: Come on, that would be a GREAT Christmas present!! Framed, please.

Me: I will send you one of my school pictures.

Amy: No, I've already seen that.

Me: But it's a professional portrait!

Amy: Sarah, I'm in AFGHANISTAN. Don't you want to lift my spirits? I won't be able to Afghanistand it if you don't....

Me: Oh.... My .... God.... That was horrible.

So, should I throw vanity and self-respect to the wind and send her a picture of my horrific hairdo? Or do I say tough shit, I will not sacrifice my dignity for the cause of troop morale and just send her some gum instead? You, my readers, get to decide. Vote in the comments...

How Fantastic is Facebook?

My answer is:  Pretty Fantastic!  My sister is in Afghanistan on a military base and she gets the internet and can access her Facebook account which allowed us to have a chat conversation yesterday morning when we were both supposed to be working.

Years ago I would have had to tell her how I had an abundance of stomach gas and was apprehensive about going in to a meeting in a letter.  Then I would have had to get an envelope and fill it out.  Then I'd have to find a stamp.  Then I'd have to send it and wait for her response for about two weeks.  Now, because of the miracle of Facebook, she can advise me immediately that I should try to "take care of business" before the meeting because she recently put off going until after what she thought would be a 20 minute meeting, which turned in to a 90 minute meeting, and let's just say everyone was sorry.

Of course, everything that is wonderful also has its down side.  During the very same bathroom chat I had with my sister across the globe, I happen to read a status update by a former student who is upset that Obama is going to take away his "right to bare arms."  If he has ever seen a picture of Michelle Obama and her beautiful guns, he would know that Obama is an obvious advocate of sleevelessness.  I guess I should have taught homophones a little more.

You Never Stop Learning from your Dad

The other morning over breakfast my dad told me about something I never knew existed, and much like throughout my entire life, he has opened my eyes to new possibilities.  This is what he told me:

"Did you hear about the newest tattoo fad?  It's anal tattoos."  

Thanks Dad!  I did NOT hear about the latest tattoo fad, but now I can't stop thinking about it!  Oh, the possibilities... 

Or...

I was opening my mouth to ask my dad how he knew about this new fad when he said, "The worst part of it is asking your tattoo artist to do it for you."    

Um,... what Dad?  You've gotten so far with this that you've had to experience the awkwardness of actually asking someone to tattoo your anus?  So I skipped over the preliminary questions I had and asked, "Dad... Do you have an anal tattoo?"  And I don't know if he is serious or not because I NEVER WANT TO CHECK, but he says that he has one like this:

How sweet!/disgusting!/passive aggressive!  I always hoped my name was tattooed on my dad's heart, but I guess I can live with the thought that at least I'm tattooed somewhere.

So now I am having some ideas.  Nobody would ever see this tattoo except possibly your spouse, doctor or sodomist, so you are pretty much free to get whatever you want without worrying about public rejection.  You could get a simple greeting that would be a nice surprise come exam time and give you and your doctor something to talk about to fill the awkward silences:

Or you could embrace the hemorrhoids that you got while you were pregnant 15 years ago that will never go away:

Or you could get a stupid saying that only you think is funny:

I haven't decided what I'm going to get yet.  Maybe something classy like a topographic map of the Himalayas.  What kind of anal tattoo would you get, if you had to get an anal tattoo?

Happy Birthday to Amy!

Today is my sister Amy's birthday.  I wanted to write a special post today to honor her because she is about the best sister a girl can have.  She will be leaving in several weeks to go to Afghanistan for the navy (yes, the navy). Her job is to help people in a rural province learn about their government ("we have a government?") and to make them aware of money and programs they are entitled to.  If anyone can win over hearts and minds, Amy can.  

Even though she is one of the nicest people I know and it's her birthday doesn't change the fact that I am her big sister so I can't really help but post embarrassing pictures of her.  It's like it's my job.  

 Just because we were teenagers and we spent the summers on a houseboat at the lake didn't mean we didn't want to look nice.

This is Amy and Beth on their first day of school.

She's dainty, and if you don't agree, she will punch you in the face.

The costume designers of the ice show thought it was fun to put big hats on Amy's big head.  She played Mayor McCheese one year.  

Oops!  That's not Amy!  Here she is:

Honest mistake!

Happy Birthday, Amy!  I love you!

Head UPDATED!

I come from a family of people with giant heads. We are like a family of Bratz dolls without the skinny, sexy little bodies.

From left to right:  My mom, me, Amy, Beth

Then I married a man with a giant head.  Naturally our children have giant heads as well.  They were doomed to it.  Thankfully both of them were born via C-section or my head wouldn't be my only freakishly oversized body part.  I remember when Sam was born and they told me his head was nearly 16 inches in circumference.  In my drug haze I couldn't quite grasp what they were saying.  When I was a teenager my grandma told me that when SHE was my age, she had an 18 inch waist.  My teeny little newborn baby couldn't possibly have a head nearly the size of my grandma's teenage waist, could he?

Thank you, Sam, for being breech.

I thought they must be talking in centimeters and wanted to snottily remind them that we live in AMERICA and we don't use the stupid metric system!  But no, they were talking about inches.

My kids were both in hockey when they were little.  Since they started when they were about four years old, we have had to buy them adult sized helmets.  When they got to be around nine or ten years old, they were wearing an adult extra large and there was nowhere else to turn unless we ordered specially-made freak sizes.  The kids would complain of headaches from the tightness of their helmets so Mitch solved the problem by shaving off, or cutting out the protective padding inside the helmets to give their heads more room.  Sam told me yesterday that he broke a helmet once.  I said I didn't remember him ever falling hard enough to break a helmet and he said, "I didn't fall.  My head broke out of it."

Now my sister Amy, who arguably has the biggest head of all of us, is getting ready to do a tour of duty in Afghanistan.  When she was in high school she was nick-named (by me) Big Head.  I actually remember chatting with one of the study hall monitors one time and he said, "Your sister has a really big head." and I thought he was talking about how cocky she is and I said, "Do you think so? I think she's pretty humble, being a freshman and all." and he said, "No, I mean her head is enormous." and he made a gesture with his hands around his head like it was the size of a beach ball. (It's not that big.)  I said, "Oh yeah, of course. Everybody knows that."

Yesterday she was issued all her war-time equipment.  (You can read all about it here)  She said that her helmet is GIGANTIC.  She says that she looks like Dark Helmet from Spaceballs.  She didn't post a picture but I am sure that is no exaggeration.

UPDATE:  My sister stupidly told people she has to work and live with about her older sister's blog.  Why not just say to them, "Hey, wanna pick on me for a while?  Need some material?  Go visit my sister's blog!  Here's the address."  Anyway, I can't help it if she makes it easy.  She posted a picture of herself in her new war helmet and she does look a little like Dark Helmet.  You can read about it HERE)

Spider Island

Are you afraid of spiders?  If you said no, I can predict that you are sitting somewhere in a civilized, not-all-that-natural environment right now and there is virtually no danger of a spider the size of your hand running across your lap.  And you're a liar.  Spiders are scary.  And creepy.  And fast.  Yuck.

(Thank you to someone on Flickr for the photo of the gross spider.)

Amy has the most adorable little cabin on a perfect spot on a perfect lake.  For three months out of the year it is paradise.  Except for all the spiders.  Whenever I go out there I try to convince myself that:
A) they don't want to attack me, and if I leave them alone, they will leave me alone,
B) They are good because they eat bugs that bite me,
C) They are fascinating creatures, what with the spinning of webs and all.

It never works.  For one thing, they are EVERYWHERE.  Sure, they don't want to attack me, but say you are walking to the outhouse a little way into the woods; unless you make a conscious effort to blur your eyes, look only where you are going, and don't look at the buildings that have spider-web thatched roofs, you WILL see a frighteningly fast, DISGUSTING spider scurrying out of your way.

My dad said he saw a spider out back behind the shed that was as big as a small woman's hand and it was moving slowly because it was carrying an egg sac the size of a marble.  Just writing that sentence makes me want to throw up.  When my dad told that to my mom and me we both almost gagged.  I don't know what's worse: a spider that moves faster than lightning, or a spider that is slow because it is carrying a web-backpack full of millions more spiders.  When my dad saw our reaction he said, "They are good!  They eat bugs!" and my mom said what women have been saying for generations, "I'd rather have the other bugs."

Spiders are kind of interesting.  On TV.  Or on the opposite side of a pane of glass.  And only then when you chant, "She's just like Charlotte! She's just like Charlotte! She's just like Charlotte!" to yourself in a frantic cadence while doing Lamaze breathing.

I watched some fat-bodied non-giant spiders outside the sauna spinning webs.  It wasn't the worst thing in the world.  But if they were on the inside of the sauna, instead of the outside, I would have freaked out and smooshed them.  And then I'd be totally grossed out by how much their disgusting fat bodies squished.

Kira has always liked to tell me I'm a sissy when it comes to the spiders.  She acts all tough and even goes so far as to hold and play with Daddy Long Legs.  Gross.  Well, not this past week.  Amy and I were at the fire pit, and Kira came down from changing out of her swimming suit and she was frantically trying not to be frantic.  She was laughing a forced laugh that would have been screaming if she wasn't so stubborn and determined.  She had the curled up body of a spider on her towel and she said, "I caught this spider crawling ACROSS MY FACE!"  The spider was huge.  She said she noticed it and then did the international bug dance which flung him off of her, and then saw the spider trying to crawl away across my bed so she smashed it with my book.  I am so happy she had the wherewithal to smash it after she brushed it off her face.  It saved me from a sleepless night of wondering when the spider was going to crawl up my body and lay eggs in my mouth.  When all spread out with the legs and huge body, that spider was probably the size of the top of a coffee cup.  Kira was freaked out.  Amy and I (who are both terrified of spiders so our reassurance doesn't count for much) tried to tell her to forget about it.  Amy said, "Kira, in a ten foot square space anywhere on this island there are probably a thousand spiders.  They won't hurt you."  to which Kira replied with, "Yes, but they are not ON MY FACE!"  to which Amy and I said, "Touche," and we all sat there and shuddered for about an hour.   

I've been gone

The kids and I took a little mini-vacation up to Rainy Lake for the last several days.  Kira and I stayed with Amy at her cabin, and Sam stayed in town with my parents so he could drive them around wherever their little hearts desired.  I have lots to catch up on around here so this isn't really a real post.  A real one will follow soon.

I learned something about myself while I was gone.  I have absolutely no self-discipline when I am away from home.  I ate food that I would NEVER eat at home (re: Top the Tater and chips were at the base of my vacation food pyramid.) and I didn't really wash (I was swimming. Who needs soap when you have lake water?) and I wasn't even really good about brushing my teeth. (Can't worry about tooth decay and spiders at the same time.) More to come...

Yard Sale

School got out last week and we already had a busy summer weekend.  We went up to Intl Falls to help my parents and sister with their big garage sale.  I put some stuff in too.

Mostly old purses and all the chicken decorations everyone and their brother gave me several years ago when I got three live chickens.  Seriously, nobody gave a second thought about what to get me for my birthday that year, if it had a chicken on it, the general consensus was that I wanted it.  I got a chicken platter, a chicken rug, chicken plates, chicken candy dishes, a metal and wood decorative chicken, a chicken key holder, a big glass chicken full of olive oil and vegetables, a chicken basket, a chicken bank, a chicken tape dispenser, a gigantic cement chicken that weighs more than a 100 pounds etc etc etc.  I brought some of the better looking chickens to sell, thinking nobody would want a bunch of chicken stuff and it would end up in the dump.  The very first lady at the sale, who arrived an hour and 15 minutes before it officially opened, bought ALL the chicken stuff and would have brought more if I had only brought it all.  DARNIT!  I should have brought it all.

I finally acquired the giant fish platter that my sisters and I have been coveting since my mom got it about fifteen years ago.  I thought I was going to have to wait until they were dead and then fight my sisters for it, but my mom decided she doesn't want it anymore so it was going to go in the sale.  First my sister Beth was going to snag it and give it to my sister Amy for her birthday (tacky), but too bad for Beth, she was at work, so I put it in my car. HA HA! Now I have the big fish platter, my sisters do not have it, and my parents are still alive.  Win win win.

I tried to sell Amy's dog again, but nobody wanted her.

W is for Walrus

Amy and I started our road trip from Washington D.C. to Minnesota.  We drove for about 13 hours today and have about 9 or 10 hours left for tomorrow.  It wasn't so bad.  We went through Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and now we are in Janesville Wisconsin.  So I guess W could be for Wisconsin.  Or Washington.  Or "What a day!" but when I was writing the title Walrus was all I could think of.

Sam and Kira texted us before and after school.  That was fun.  I told Kira this morning, "The 495 is like a parking lot!" and she said, "I don't know what that means." And I said, "Major traffic" and she said "What's the 494?" and I said, "It's the road," and she said, "Oh.  I get it now."  I guess that joke is wasted on 12 year olds who don't drive or know that freeways are numbered.  Later Sam asked where we were and I said, "Toledo" and he said, "Ha ha.  Really funny.  Where are you really?"  And I said, "Toledo!" and he said, "Toledo, yeah right.  You just made 'Toledo' up."  My son: Geography whiz.  And then I texted Mitch and said, "We are in Chicago.  We are going to go clubbing and get some authentic Chicago 'sausage.'" and he said, "Good luck."  He is so supportive of me.

Now we are in a Motel 6 on the ground floor and it has has two beds, toilet paper and a door; but what it boasts in amenities, it lacks in pillow thickness, but I'm so tired, I won't even notice because I'm sure when my head hits the pillow I will fall asleep and stay asleep until the serial killer that will inevitably come to the truck stop across the parking lot smashes the window and tries to murder us.  Amy is sleeping by the window though, so, you know, I might have a chance.

p.s.  I spent the entire day at Mount Vernon yesterday and it was glorious.  I will tell you all about it tomorrow.  

R is for Rickets! (that has nothing to do with the post, but it's the first R thing that came into my head. I'm losing it on this A-Z thing.)

I'm going to Washington D.C. today to visit my sister for the last time before she goes to prison.  Just kidding.  She's not going to prison.  She's moving to Norfolk for training for when she goes to Afghanistan.  She's in the U.S.O.  She's a tap dancer.  She's going to Afghanistan to tap dance for the troops.  Just kidding again.  She doesn't know how to tap dance.  I don't think.  (Amy, do you know how to tap dance?)  She isn't in the U.S.O. either.  But she is in the Navy so OF COURSE she is going to landlocked Afghanistan.  (raarrrr)

Anyway, I have to go get one more Mount Vernon fix before she moves.  We were planning to take a river cruise to the estate because that would be cool.  Amy looked into it and she said, "The boat will bring us there and then it doesn't leave again for three hours..." thinking, whoa, three hours is PLENTY of time to see Mount Vernon for the fourth time in two years.  And I said, "Nope.  That won't work.  It's going to take us WAY longer than three hours!" Ha ha! what was she thinking?  I bet she is dreading it.  But there is so much to see!  I want to go through the house again, go through the educational center, look at every single thing in the museum, walk all over the grounds, see all the little animals and buy more mints in adorable little tin boxes from the gift shop and so on and so on and so on.  I'm thinking we'll be there for eight?, maybe nine? hours?  Sound good Amy?!

We are also going to see the Holocaust museum. Par-TAY!

Then we are going to drive home together, bonding like crazy and holding hands the whole way.  

::INTERRUPTION OF THE A TO Z CONTEST::

I am interrupting this A to Z blogging contest to bring you a special news update:  I am going to Washington to visit Amy tomorrow.  Today she casually emailed me, "Would you like to have breakfast in the senate dining room on Monday?"  What?  Yes!  I couldn't even get in the Capitol last time I was there.  I stood in line for a while, and then got my bag searched and got scolded for having a granola bar, and then I was only allowed to go in the basement/peon level. I wanted to see the rotunda!  I asked one of the workers how I could get up to see the rotunda and he said, "You can't now.  You can see an exact replica over there," and he pointed to a Barbie sized replica of the Capitol.  No.  That's not what I threw away a perfectly good granola bar and an unopened can of Diet Coke to see.  That really chapped my hide.

Well, on Monday I get to be like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman when she goes back to the bitchy sales ladies in the fancy store who wouldn't wait on her and shows them what's what.  I will be eating toaster waffles and pop tarts with the bigtime movers and shakers.  I will see the f'ing rotunda.  And I get to go in the super private special entrance with no line.  So take that, guard-who-looked-at-me-like-I-was-a-mental-defective-because-I-tried-to-bring-a-granola-bar-into-the-Capitol.

Amy said that it is dress-up so I have to pack accordingly, but of course, I am second guessing my dress-up choices.  I don't know if it will be dress-up enough.  We Minnesotans are pretty casual, and I don't want to look like a dope.  I've decided not to take any chances of being too casual.  I'm just going to wear my prom dress.  Get ready senators!

G is for Gee whiz, my sister has a blog!

My sister Amy is kind of a big shot in the U.S. Navy (well, a middle shot maybe. Or a peon. I don't really know.  She's somewhere between Gomer Pyle and General Schwarzkopf.  I think.)  Anyhoo, she is going to Afghanistan in several months, so she is starting training for the job she is going to have there.  Everyone told her to keep a journal while she is there but she is no good at journaling, but she wanted to keep a record of her experiences so she started a blog.  It's called Sailing into the Desert.  You should follow her and read all about her experiences.

I was going to put an embarrassing picture of Amy here,
but then it occurred to me that maybe it's not a good
 idea to embarrass a person who has tons of embarrassing
 pictures of me and now also has a blog.
But I was so looking forward to putting an embarrassing picture up,
so instead I am including this picture of my other sister,
Beth, who does NOT have a blog.  (Ha ha, Beth.  Bet you wish you had a blog.)

This is from when she was in basketball in eighth grade.
I mostly like that her shirt says, "It all happens here."

Oh, and nice hair.

She seems to be looking forward to this adventure, but I keep telling her that Afghanistan is a shithole.  No, I've never been there, but I'm pretty sure it's a big giant shithole.  Especially if you're a woman.  Lots of illiterate men with gross beards and guns who spend more time and effort on bombing big ancient Buddhas than they do providing food or education for their people.  Heaven (sarcasm font) Oh well, as long as she doesn't drive, show her hair, or speak before she's spoken to it should be sweet. (again with the sarcasm) 


I don't want her to go, can you tell?  Mostly because it's so far away and it's dangerous!, but also for selfish reasons: I really liked visiting her in Washington D.C. and San Diego and Monterrey, but I don't want to go to Kabul or Qandahar for sister's weekend.  That would SUCK.

So go to her blog, follow her, comment on her posts.  Do it.

Jib Jab Jingle Bell

It's not even December and I'm already getting in the holiday spirit!  And when I say I'm in the holiday spirit, I mean that I've been playing with Jib Jab, making my favorite holiday cards.  Here's some screen shots from the one I made of my parents, sisters and me:



The Whole Family



Dad and Mom

Dad, rocking out

The whole fam again

If you want to see the whole card, click on this link.

Now I'm at work in a math class and the kids have an assignment and they are actually doing it and being quiet so I was playing around and made another one.  I don't have my computer here at school, but I have my own school account, but I don't have access to very many of my own pictures so I just took some off my blog.  This one is me, Mitch and a honey badger.  Here's some screen shots:

You can see this card at this link. Next I think I'll make one with Kira and a couple of chickens. 

Now go and make your own cards and paste them on to Facebook and then make sure to friend me on facebook so I can laugh too.