We have moved so often, but it never seems to be easy. We are moving for the 19th time, this time to Fort Monroe, Virginia.
First, my husband called the Great Lakes transportation office and requested a move date. They told him to fill out an online form and we’d hear from them. He filled it out and we got a computer generated response that said the earliest we could move was 12 business days from the date of the application. Bob called them to explain this was a short-notice assignment and the woman (with attitude) told him that he may have to report to work but wait for his furniture.
He asked to talk to her supervisor and she said to “Please hold, major.” He corrected her and said “I’m a major general.” I could hear her gulp from across the room. She put him on hold and no one came back on the line. I think they were running in a panic trying to find someone brave to take the call. A similar thing happened to me when I worked at Wisconsin State Fair as a receptionist as a teen and I ticked off a caller. He wanted my supervisor, so I covered the mouthpiece and told my co-worker to pretend she was my supervisor. She got on the phone and he told her that he had heard our conversation and to get the real supervisor. I was reprimanded.
Bob hung up after being on hold for about 5 minutes without a reply. When he called back, he was notified that the move date he requested had been approved. It’s funny how things can work out.
The movers come on Monday and we are hauling bags of things to Goodwill and sorting out things to stay in Wisconsin and what to pack in luggage for the trip to Virginia.
I am also having flashbacks of some of our unusual moves. Like the one from New York where the moving van was covered in graffiti and they finished packing that truck just after midnight. As it drove off towards the city, we thought we had seen our stuff for the last time. Then there was the mover in Kansas who crapped in our toilet and clogged it, but just closed the lid and let us find it hours after they had left. Oh, and the move from El Paso which I did myself where the mover arrived drunk and passed out in our basement atop a moving blanket. He was fired, so then I worried he’d come back seeking retribution.
I also remember our move from Germany where the movers were from the former East (the wall had come down just a few years earlier) and they stole all our NFL stuff and jeans. But at least I haven’t had an experience like my friend Jan, whose wedding dress was packed with her husband’s weights, which rusted all over it.
The movers come on Monday. The toilet plunger is at the ready.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
The Cruise
We got on the ship and the first thing they did was steer us to a food buffet. The buffet had a number of stations, with Asian food, Italian food, fried food, and a couple of salad bars. My pants were already too tight, so I went to the salad bar.
As I was proceeding through the food line, I noticed that the ship had a lot of elderly passengers. They were all too excited to be eating and were quite pushy. While in the salad line, I was hit by a wheelchair. It practically took out my Achilles tendon. I turned to the old man who was pushing the old woman and told him to back off. I never saw them again on the ship, they were probably afraid I was a member of some unfriendly gang.
Our room was cozy. That’s another way of saying very small. But it was adequate.
At dinner the first night, we made friends with a Canadian couple and we ended up sitting with them every night for dinner and hanging out at the Piano Bar after dinner with them. They were a lot of fun.
The first day, we were at sea. So, we sat in the sun for awhile and then hit the gym. It was packed. There were a lot of out of shape people on treadmills walking slower than turtles crawl. I think they were trying to convince themselves that they were getting in shape after gorging themselves on the ship’s food. There were two men who worked at the gym, they wore very tight black shirts, were in their 20’s and in good shape. All they were interested in was selling some type of products that worked with your metabolism, which they would measure for $35. They did not seem to notice people dropping weights, using machines incorrectly and not wiping down the equipment after use. I had a hard time working out due to the injury I suffered after the wheel chair strike.
We went to Puerto Vallarta on our first stop. We were with our new friends from Canada, Jim and Sharon. We stopped at a place on the beach and had Coronas and it was wonderful sitting in the sun, at the shore watching the Pelicans. Then a vendor came by and we bought some stuff from him. Word spread among the vendors on the beach that a table of buying suckers had arrived and they flocked like seagulls around us. “Chiclets?” “Blankets?” “Silver?” “Windchimes?” It was overwhelming. We went to another area much further down the beach and had a few moments of peace before being inundated yet again.
The next day was Mazaitlan. Jim and Sharon were on an excursion, so Bob and I were on our own. It was a fun day walking on the beach and trying to avoid the vendors. They all used the same phrases that at first made us laugh, “Can I have a Mexican minute Senora?” “Almost free, Senor.” It got to the point where we could finish their sentence. We stopped at an open air restaurant/bar that played loud beach music. This place was elevated above the beach and the vendors were not allowed to come in. So they stood below us shouting up. There was one man who did a trick for money. But it was a stupid trick that only drunks could like. He had a boat paddle with three painted silver rocks on it and he would hold it up.
The last stop was Cabo San Lucas. This was our favorite city because it was really modern, with nicer buildings and restaurants. There were a bunch of Pelicans there as well and I got carried away taking pictures. They are so cool looking, I wanted to pet one but Bob told me not to even try or we’d see it on “When Animals Attack.”
The last two days were at sea returning to San Diego. By now, Bob and I had nicknamed the pushy people who lived at the buffet the Piranhas. They would use blocking strategies as you would approach the buffet. It made us laugh at how worried they were that the food would run out. The gym was empty, those who started with good intentions had decided to just hang out at the buffet. So that was great for us. The gym had glass that looked out to sea and the whales were migrating, so it was just beautiful to work out.
Then, too quickly it was over. We said goodbye to our new friends, and while disembarking, had to fight the Piranhas one last time. I started to laugh hysterically and one of the men on the ship said he had enjoyed my laugh throughout the cruise and asked me for one more laugh. I complied.
As I was proceeding through the food line, I noticed that the ship had a lot of elderly passengers. They were all too excited to be eating and were quite pushy. While in the salad line, I was hit by a wheelchair. It practically took out my Achilles tendon. I turned to the old man who was pushing the old woman and told him to back off. I never saw them again on the ship, they were probably afraid I was a member of some unfriendly gang.
Our room was cozy. That’s another way of saying very small. But it was adequate.
At dinner the first night, we made friends with a Canadian couple and we ended up sitting with them every night for dinner and hanging out at the Piano Bar after dinner with them. They were a lot of fun.
The first day, we were at sea. So, we sat in the sun for awhile and then hit the gym. It was packed. There were a lot of out of shape people on treadmills walking slower than turtles crawl. I think they were trying to convince themselves that they were getting in shape after gorging themselves on the ship’s food. There were two men who worked at the gym, they wore very tight black shirts, were in their 20’s and in good shape. All they were interested in was selling some type of products that worked with your metabolism, which they would measure for $35. They did not seem to notice people dropping weights, using machines incorrectly and not wiping down the equipment after use. I had a hard time working out due to the injury I suffered after the wheel chair strike.
We went to Puerto Vallarta on our first stop. We were with our new friends from Canada, Jim and Sharon. We stopped at a place on the beach and had Coronas and it was wonderful sitting in the sun, at the shore watching the Pelicans. Then a vendor came by and we bought some stuff from him. Word spread among the vendors on the beach that a table of buying suckers had arrived and they flocked like seagulls around us. “Chiclets?” “Blankets?” “Silver?” “Windchimes?” It was overwhelming. We went to another area much further down the beach and had a few moments of peace before being inundated yet again.
The next day was Mazaitlan. Jim and Sharon were on an excursion, so Bob and I were on our own. It was a fun day walking on the beach and trying to avoid the vendors. They all used the same phrases that at first made us laugh, “Can I have a Mexican minute Senora?” “Almost free, Senor.” It got to the point where we could finish their sentence. We stopped at an open air restaurant/bar that played loud beach music. This place was elevated above the beach and the vendors were not allowed to come in. So they stood below us shouting up. There was one man who did a trick for money. But it was a stupid trick that only drunks could like. He had a boat paddle with three painted silver rocks on it and he would hold it up.
The last stop was Cabo San Lucas. This was our favorite city because it was really modern, with nicer buildings and restaurants. There were a bunch of Pelicans there as well and I got carried away taking pictures. They are so cool looking, I wanted to pet one but Bob told me not to even try or we’d see it on “When Animals Attack.”
The last two days were at sea returning to San Diego. By now, Bob and I had nicknamed the pushy people who lived at the buffet the Piranhas. They would use blocking strategies as you would approach the buffet. It made us laugh at how worried they were that the food would run out. The gym was empty, those who started with good intentions had decided to just hang out at the buffet. So that was great for us. The gym had glass that looked out to sea and the whales were migrating, so it was just beautiful to work out.
Then, too quickly it was over. We said goodbye to our new friends, and while disembarking, had to fight the Piranhas one last time. I started to laugh hysterically and one of the men on the ship said he had enjoyed my laugh throughout the cruise and asked me for one more laugh. I complied.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
The Snow Thrower
When Bob returned from Afghanistan, the first thing we did is go out and buy a snow thrower. They used to be called snow blowers, but I think the name was changed after that joke about the snowman being happy to see the snow blower.
He was like a kid setting it up and excited for the first snow to fall where he could use it. An hour after setting it up, we had a cord of firewood delivered. Bob moved both cars out of the garage so the rather simple man who sells this wood would not do any damage to our vehicles. The wood man backed his pickup full of wood into our garage for unloading. He swung his door open and whack--hit the brand new snow thrower. The simple man's girlfriend (who I originally thought was his son) said, "Gee, looks like we just bought a snowblower." (she apparently is not aware they are now called snow throwers.) Bob's jaw clenched, but we just let it go.
The first snow he used it on was not enough to satisfy him, so he did our walk and driveway and then the street in front of our house and cleared all around the mailbox. In the two weeks we've had the snow thrower, it has snowed all the time. Bob has kept our driveway clear and also did our neighbors' house three times while they were gone. He ripped up one extension cord that lit our outdoor Christmas decorations when he ran over it. The next extension cord he replaced that one with is missing and I fear the same happened to it. The snow banks are so high that the Christmas decorations are buried where all I can see is the star that topped the tree. I guess that will all be found in the spring.
When we came home from our visit to New Hampshire, Bob said that he hoped there was snow. And there was, before he unpacked his suitcase, he was out there clearing the driveway. Last night we had another inch and he's out there again with his new toy. Bob's brother suggested that we clear a spot on the lake and make a skating rink. I know it's only a matter of time until I see Bob out there, guess I need to dig out my skates.
He was like a kid setting it up and excited for the first snow to fall where he could use it. An hour after setting it up, we had a cord of firewood delivered. Bob moved both cars out of the garage so the rather simple man who sells this wood would not do any damage to our vehicles. The wood man backed his pickup full of wood into our garage for unloading. He swung his door open and whack--hit the brand new snow thrower. The simple man's girlfriend (who I originally thought was his son) said, "Gee, looks like we just bought a snowblower." (she apparently is not aware they are now called snow throwers.) Bob's jaw clenched, but we just let it go.
The first snow he used it on was not enough to satisfy him, so he did our walk and driveway and then the street in front of our house and cleared all around the mailbox. In the two weeks we've had the snow thrower, it has snowed all the time. Bob has kept our driveway clear and also did our neighbors' house three times while they were gone. He ripped up one extension cord that lit our outdoor Christmas decorations when he ran over it. The next extension cord he replaced that one with is missing and I fear the same happened to it. The snow banks are so high that the Christmas decorations are buried where all I can see is the star that topped the tree. I guess that will all be found in the spring.
When we came home from our visit to New Hampshire, Bob said that he hoped there was snow. And there was, before he unpacked his suitcase, he was out there clearing the driveway. Last night we had another inch and he's out there again with his new toy. Bob's brother suggested that we clear a spot on the lake and make a skating rink. I know it's only a matter of time until I see Bob out there, guess I need to dig out my skates.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Irritated with the Airlines
The airlines have gone so cheap that flying is like being in a cattle car.
First, they eliminated the checking of bags without a cost. Passengers are trying to avoid the baggage fees by packing all their belongings for a trip into carry on bags. So, you see them with a roll-on bag expanded as far as it can go. Then there are those who use backpacks and stuff them so full that it is like another body attached to them. As one passenger turned, he almost took the head off of another passenger with his overstuffed backpack. There are women with purses the size of a 50 pound bag of dog food. I watched one man board the plane with a backpack strapped to his back, overstuffed roll-on and a shopping bag.
This makes the boarding process takes much longer and there just isn’t room for all the carry ons. By the time half the plane is boarded, all overheads are full. So, the passengers that come on later, open the compartments, study them, and then attempt to jam their carry ons in.
The unloading of the plane also takes longer as these people strap themselves down with man-purses, bags, and packs in order to exit. I also suspect some of them are wearing three layers of clothes and have their extra shoes in their pockets.
The next irritation is that the airlines are trying to make more money by selling aisle seats and window seats for an additional $15. So, a couple traveling together gets middle seats about 10 rows apart. We were able to get on a waiting list for seats together and got the very last row of the plane. This row is the one next to the toilets and the kitchen area (that is puzzling, toilets next to kitchens). So, we are trying to doze with the toilets that flush with that lovely powerful suction sound.
If you want to sit in an exit row, you have to pay an additional $15. I have never felt too secure that those sitting in exit rows would ever really try to help anyone but themselves, but now that I know the seat is sold to the highest bidder, I am assured of this.
There are no more free snacks on the planes unless you are in first class. I sure do miss that bag of 10 peanuts. You are allowed to bring your own food on the plane, which results in a greasy smell aboard the plane.
If you are a frequent flier with 25,000 miles you would think it would give you a free ticket. That’s how it used to be. You can still get a free flight, but you will have to spend the night in an airport somewhere or fly on a red eye. And if you don’t book it at least 90 days in advance, you pay a $100 fee. And the miles expire. One more irritation from the airlines.
We are about to fly again tomorrow and then have another trip planned next week. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the nightmare.
First, they eliminated the checking of bags without a cost. Passengers are trying to avoid the baggage fees by packing all their belongings for a trip into carry on bags. So, you see them with a roll-on bag expanded as far as it can go. Then there are those who use backpacks and stuff them so full that it is like another body attached to them. As one passenger turned, he almost took the head off of another passenger with his overstuffed backpack. There are women with purses the size of a 50 pound bag of dog food. I watched one man board the plane with a backpack strapped to his back, overstuffed roll-on and a shopping bag.
This makes the boarding process takes much longer and there just isn’t room for all the carry ons. By the time half the plane is boarded, all overheads are full. So, the passengers that come on later, open the compartments, study them, and then attempt to jam their carry ons in.
The unloading of the plane also takes longer as these people strap themselves down with man-purses, bags, and packs in order to exit. I also suspect some of them are wearing three layers of clothes and have their extra shoes in their pockets.
The next irritation is that the airlines are trying to make more money by selling aisle seats and window seats for an additional $15. So, a couple traveling together gets middle seats about 10 rows apart. We were able to get on a waiting list for seats together and got the very last row of the plane. This row is the one next to the toilets and the kitchen area (that is puzzling, toilets next to kitchens). So, we are trying to doze with the toilets that flush with that lovely powerful suction sound.
If you want to sit in an exit row, you have to pay an additional $15. I have never felt too secure that those sitting in exit rows would ever really try to help anyone but themselves, but now that I know the seat is sold to the highest bidder, I am assured of this.
There are no more free snacks on the planes unless you are in first class. I sure do miss that bag of 10 peanuts. You are allowed to bring your own food on the plane, which results in a greasy smell aboard the plane.
If you are a frequent flier with 25,000 miles you would think it would give you a free ticket. That’s how it used to be. You can still get a free flight, but you will have to spend the night in an airport somewhere or fly on a red eye. And if you don’t book it at least 90 days in advance, you pay a $100 fee. And the miles expire. One more irritation from the airlines.
We are about to fly again tomorrow and then have another trip planned next week. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the nightmare.
Monday, December 22, 2008
The Welcome Home Party
The Welcome Home Party was so much fun. We were picked up by Rodger in his Cadillac. He let us off curbside at the Legion, where the color guard had lined the sidewalk and a bugler announced our presence. The invitees gathered outside and watched. As we walked past the color guard they turned toward us and when we passed the general's flag, he got in step behind us and followed us in.
We then did the punchbowl ceremony, toasts, remarks, prayer, and ate dinner. Then the party really began.
My crazy sister Kim was stuck in a snowstorm, so the other siblings, Ellen and Tommy, had to step up. Ellen took the mike and asked if there was any talent in the house as Sally was also stuck in a snowstorm and she was going to play piano. In attendance was Lester, the Concertina expert, and he agreed to play. Polka music filled the air and a couple of people danced. I tried to get Bob to dance, but he claims every time I polka with him he dislocates his hips.
Then Ellen and Tommy filled the gas can we had used in the punchbowl ceremony (ginger ale to represent the airport trips) with the grog and went around and filled glasses.
By the time Kim arrived, the crowd had begun to disburse to get home in the storm. So, it became our family show, where us siblings just entertained ourselves. Kim sang and danced to "Feelings" and Tommy did a rap song. Then Kim recited weird stories from her head as Tommy would play the piano (he would plink the keys). Ellen and I laughed until we had tears running down our face.
Then we had Kim prank phone call our friends. It's the regulars that we always prank. They expect it and look forward to it. We made their day.
Bob was talking to other guests while we were entertaining ourselves. He just shook his head as he saw us with our production. Welcome home, I'm sure you really missed all this great stuff.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Welcome Home Plans, Update 1
Mom continues to invite more people to Bob's Welcome Home party. It has now gotten to the point where I think we are footing the bill for her class reunion. The original invite list was people who knew both of us. Then it expanded to people who knew and helped support me while Bob was gone. Now...well, now, the hall will be full of mom's friends.
Pat (the man who's hard to understand because the dentures don't fit) continues to call me with ideas. He wanted to have channel 2 and channel 11 invited. I explained to him that they really could care less so not to bother. Then he called to say he thought we should have a police/sheriff escort to the hall. I could already picture the IG complaint on that one, actually, that could draw the media --for waste of taxpayer dollars.
Pat has been chosen to carry Bob's GO flag and walk behind him with it when we enter the hall.
Well, he hopes to. He almost cut off his finger and it's now infected. So he may have to get the finger tip removed. He says this will not interfere with his flag duty, but we'll see.
The head of the VFW and American Legion here are both very supportive. We now have a rifle platoon and bugler. But Pat told me that he called the head of the Disabled Vets who said he didn't want anything to do with us because we walked around with our noses in the air. We've never met him. Maybe we'll have to swing by his house to toilet paper it.
I made two more briskets, each weighing 7 pounds. My freezer is full, so I'm putting the food out on the porch to stay frozen. I just hope some dogs or other varmints don't smell it and come help themselves. It would be like the Bumkis dogs on Christmas Story.
I'm continuing to refine my punch bowl ceremony. To represent our 2 R&R's, I found a pomegranate juice called "Naked." This ceremony will be funny to the 5 people there who still have their hearing left. I am trying to figure out how to quiet the loud talkers and my mom during the presentations..."In the finest military tradition, we begin our formal portion by duct taping the mouths of those we love the most." Would that work?
Pat (the man who's hard to understand because the dentures don't fit) continues to call me with ideas. He wanted to have channel 2 and channel 11 invited. I explained to him that they really could care less so not to bother. Then he called to say he thought we should have a police/sheriff escort to the hall. I could already picture the IG complaint on that one, actually, that could draw the media --for waste of taxpayer dollars.
Pat has been chosen to carry Bob's GO flag and walk behind him with it when we enter the hall.
Well, he hopes to. He almost cut off his finger and it's now infected. So he may have to get the finger tip removed. He says this will not interfere with his flag duty, but we'll see.
The head of the VFW and American Legion here are both very supportive. We now have a rifle platoon and bugler. But Pat told me that he called the head of the Disabled Vets who said he didn't want anything to do with us because we walked around with our noses in the air. We've never met him. Maybe we'll have to swing by his house to toilet paper it.
I made two more briskets, each weighing 7 pounds. My freezer is full, so I'm putting the food out on the porch to stay frozen. I just hope some dogs or other varmints don't smell it and come help themselves. It would be like the Bumkis dogs on Christmas Story.
I'm continuing to refine my punch bowl ceremony. To represent our 2 R&R's, I found a pomegranate juice called "Naked." This ceremony will be funny to the 5 people there who still have their hearing left. I am trying to figure out how to quiet the loud talkers and my mom during the presentations..."In the finest military tradition, we begin our formal portion by duct taping the mouths of those we love the most." Would that work?
Saturday, December 13, 2008
The Beauty Makeover Party
My niece Kegan turned 13. My sister Kim had a sleepover party that was also a beauty makeover party for Kegan and her friends. Kim enlisted the help of the "beauty patrol." Me, our other sister Ellen, her friend Wendy, and a true beautician Sandy.
I look back on my life and I think 13 is the worst age. Your hormones are kicking into high gear, peer pressure is immense, self confidence is low. The age is awkward, caught between childhood and adulthood.
The girls waxed their hands, then we painted their nails. They all had chocolate facial masks, so their skin was clean and soft. Then the "beauty patrol" did makeup and hair.
One of Kegan's friends, Gigi, is an Emo. I think that is the term. I had never heard of it before. It's kind of a Goth look, with plain faces, extremely dark heavy eyeliner and her hair had about 8 colors of reds, blacks, pinks in it. Ellen looked at her and said, "I'll do Gigi." It took about a bottle of makeup remover before we could see she had beautiful eyes under all that black tar. Ellen did her hair and makeup and she looked like a princess. Although Gigi just could not live with such minimal makeup and went into the bathroom and applied a lot of additional eyeliner.
Another of Kegan's friends is a natural redhead who hates her hair color. Her mom won't let her dye it and she thinks her mom is so mean. When I finished putting tons of waves into her thick hair, it looked gorgeous. I told her she looked like Julia Roberts and she strutted around knowing she looked terrific.
The next pipsqueak to be done weighed about 75 pounds and 10 of it was hair. I put waves into her hair and then Sandy did it in an updo. She decided she looked too good to be wearing sweatpants and ran upstairs and changed into jeans and a pair of hot pink high heels that were too large for her tiny feet. (and watching her walk in the icy parking lot with bare toes hanging out was amazing.)
Kegan also had her hair done in an updo. She has natural beauty (it's in the genes) and transformed from 13 years old to 16 before our eyes. It was scary.
While we performed these transformations, we gave them positive messages about doing the right thing, not texting stupid pictures, staying out of trouble. They listened --probably because we were not their parents.
We then took the beauty queens out to a chicken wing joint for dinner. Us adults sat together and they sat at their own table. They were giggling and cackling and then in walks a group of about 10 boys that were about a year or two older than the girls. The boys' parents also came and sat at separate tables.
The boys noticed the girls rather quickly and a brave one walked over and circled the girls' table. Then his mother called him over and told him he had something on his face, so much for his bravado. The girls had to keep running to the bathroom, click, click, click in their high heels and giggle, giggle. No, don't take the straight path to the bathroom, take the one past the boys' tables. As they'd pass the boys would watch them go by and laugh as well, in their half man/half boy voices.
We left the restaurant but the evening was far from over, as Kim and I went into the bedroom with the girls and told girl stories until almost midnight. I then had to go to bed, I was bushed. I fell asleep to the sounds of giggling in the room next door. Kim is sure a good mom.
I look back on my life and I think 13 is the worst age. Your hormones are kicking into high gear, peer pressure is immense, self confidence is low. The age is awkward, caught between childhood and adulthood.
The girls waxed their hands, then we painted their nails. They all had chocolate facial masks, so their skin was clean and soft. Then the "beauty patrol" did makeup and hair.
One of Kegan's friends, Gigi, is an Emo. I think that is the term. I had never heard of it before. It's kind of a Goth look, with plain faces, extremely dark heavy eyeliner and her hair had about 8 colors of reds, blacks, pinks in it. Ellen looked at her and said, "I'll do Gigi." It took about a bottle of makeup remover before we could see she had beautiful eyes under all that black tar. Ellen did her hair and makeup and she looked like a princess. Although Gigi just could not live with such minimal makeup and went into the bathroom and applied a lot of additional eyeliner.
Another of Kegan's friends is a natural redhead who hates her hair color. Her mom won't let her dye it and she thinks her mom is so mean. When I finished putting tons of waves into her thick hair, it looked gorgeous. I told her she looked like Julia Roberts and she strutted around knowing she looked terrific.
The next pipsqueak to be done weighed about 75 pounds and 10 of it was hair. I put waves into her hair and then Sandy did it in an updo. She decided she looked too good to be wearing sweatpants and ran upstairs and changed into jeans and a pair of hot pink high heels that were too large for her tiny feet. (and watching her walk in the icy parking lot with bare toes hanging out was amazing.)
Kegan also had her hair done in an updo. She has natural beauty (it's in the genes) and transformed from 13 years old to 16 before our eyes. It was scary.
While we performed these transformations, we gave them positive messages about doing the right thing, not texting stupid pictures, staying out of trouble. They listened --probably because we were not their parents.
We then took the beauty queens out to a chicken wing joint for dinner. Us adults sat together and they sat at their own table. They were giggling and cackling and then in walks a group of about 10 boys that were about a year or two older than the girls. The boys' parents also came and sat at separate tables.
The boys noticed the girls rather quickly and a brave one walked over and circled the girls' table. Then his mother called him over and told him he had something on his face, so much for his bravado. The girls had to keep running to the bathroom, click, click, click in their high heels and giggle, giggle. No, don't take the straight path to the bathroom, take the one past the boys' tables. As they'd pass the boys would watch them go by and laugh as well, in their half man/half boy voices.
We left the restaurant but the evening was far from over, as Kim and I went into the bedroom with the girls and told girl stories until almost midnight. I then had to go to bed, I was bushed. I fell asleep to the sounds of giggling in the room next door. Kim is sure a good mom.
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