I love you, Tom. You mean everything to me. You’re my person, my rock, my home, my ollyollyoxenfree and you will be forevermore.
Happy Thanksgiving from me and mine to you and yours!
On 7/8/2016, Tom, my friends and I got to meet our favorite author. We were almost last in line (on purpose; see also: anxiety issues) and got to get our books signed, and talk with Jenny. Tom got his Rory card signed and I gave Jenny the Knitted Knaughties. If you don’t know about these, you’ll have to put that in my search box and enjoy a really good story about Jenny matchmaking me (in Iowa) and Louise (in New Zealand; see also: possible place to move if Trump becomes President, because if so, I’m Audi, dude) to come up with a knitted vagina and penis to show women where to find their clitoris in a totally non-skeevy way. Seriously; some women have to be shown. My sons learned a lot from this pair, and to their future wives, I say, “You. Are. Welcome.”
That was kind of a long stream of consciousness type of ramble, and I blame my phone. So I’ll just tack on the pictures and call it good.
And they all checked one thing off their bucket list and lived happily ever after. Amen.
This is a very real Saturday morning for us.
Before Tom left for work this morning, he mentioned that he wanted more stuff removed from the basement. In particular, the 5 55 gallon bags of cans and bottles, and all the stuff I’ve boxed up to go to Goodwill.
So, I gave Mika the task of putting the cans and bottles in the car while I took a shower, then I planned on taking them to The Can Shed.
Now, a note on our vehicle situation. He has a Chrysler LHS which is almost the size of a yacht. I drive a two door Saturn, which is roughly the size of a large dog. I thought Tom took his bike and left his car, leaving two cars in the driveway.
When I instructed Mika to put 5 55 gallon bags full of cans and bottles in the car, I thought the LHS was here. It wasn’t. So while I was in the shower, Mika looked outside, saw my tiny car, and thought, ok, Mom said to do it, so I will. And he did. He fit all those cans and bottles in my teeny weeny clown car. He didn’t think, ok, Mom said do it, but that’s impossible. She must be drunk again. I’ll talk to her about it when she sobers up.
If Tom had told me to fit all that in my car, I would’ve said, “No way. I’ve only been able to fit two can bags in there before.”
But my boy thought, Mom said do it, so there must be a way.
So I took off. I couldn’t see in my rear view mirror, but that’s only slightly illegal. But I used my side mirrors carefully and arrived safely. You should have seen the guy that was parked next to me at The Can Shed as I unloaded. His face was priceless. I just kept pulling one bag after another out of that car and his eyes just kept on getting bigger.
And I walked out with $50 to buy tents to take my boys camping.
I’m so proud of Mika. He taught me something today.