Sweet Mother of Fudge Ch. 3

Ahhh summer. Isn’t it fantastic? The kids are home making a constant cacophony of childhood noises. Here we have long nights filled with firefly catching and frog trapping. We invested in a larger pool. I think it was $250 dollars. Which means we have paid about .50 cents an hour for the pleasure of having it.

The kids have dragged their Dad out for the games of “Dr. Tentacle arms” (we have paddles with suction cups on them left over from some game I bought at Wal-mart, Mr. A tries to suction the paddles on the kids' Beach Ball of Power while they pummel him and push him under water, the game is loosely based on Disney’s Phineas and Ferb. There's the “Big Whirlpool” (which is easy to figure out) “Giant Storm” (huge waves) “Volleyball” (we play volleyball).

Gosh we are weird. Typing up our weirdness like a term paper really sheds some light on our bizarreness.

Back to pontificating about summer, summer here in the middle of the country is much different than our beloved Florida.

When you leave in your van, the sun is hot and way high in the sky, like it is supposed to be. When you get out of the van in Florida, the sun actually walks on the ground next to you, like a person. The sun wears pants and a hat and throws his flaming arm around you. Instead of just hot, the Florida sky shoots fireballs, which explode all around you. When indulging in summer in normal parts of the country, your body becomes 3-D , every spider vain or stray hair visible. You must slather on the sunless tanner to make everything on your body palatable.

But our friend, Florida Walking Sun , makes your body 4-D. It burns through your sunless tanner, leaving you a shimmering ghost of body mistakes. In the Florida sun people can see your veins and what you had for lunch. And what you think you might have for dinner.

Where am I going with this? Well, as usual, I am going to talk about my body hair.


In normal world there is always time to take care of business. Keep things to a respectable level.

But in Florida we're always in a rush. Showering all the members of the family, getting them dressed, sun blocked, right shoes, towels if we are going in the pool, ear plugs for our infection prone son, favorite floaties. All this takes time. And wasting Florida time is inexcusable. There's only one place I can cut down on time. My own personal maintenance must suffer. Bye sunless tanner, Bye carefully applied Bare Minerals.

Let the Body Hair Triage begin.

Now, as in any triage, there are various priorities. I will outline the procedure below:
Each of the three main body hair areas receive a “toe tag” to establish who needs action first. The tags are colored (in my head)
 

* Minor priority #3 the area feels rough
 

* Delayed priority #2 the area would have looked great in the sixties
 

* Immediate priority #3 People will mistake this area for a spider and start slapping it with magazines.
 

* Black tag (no number) all numbers are present, only go swimming at night, alone.

In a Florida shower, I must use all my sharp focus and body hair horror knowledge. Reaction must be quick, efficient and fearless. In the end, only #3 is attended to. And the black tag? Well, it just isn’t safe to swim alone, so I can't let it get that bad.

I'm sorry I had to share that. Another thing I'm finding lately is that all my personal hygiene products must be labeled “Clinical Strength” or “Prescription style” to work effectively. But that's neither here nor there.

We spent our time at my parents. The kids got spoiled. I repacked all of our bags.

Next up: Grandpa’s Surprise 90th Birthday party.

This party is also functioning as a family reunion. One of my aunts had never met GC and BC was 6 months old when she met him. I was excited to show off my beautiful, well mannered kids. They are for sure the nicest thing that ever got removed from my body.

This meant getting up early, getting dressed to the nines, and driving three hours to his house. We'd be going right past Disney to get there. Mr. A and my Dad came up with a great idea. We would drive into Disney, go through the check in process, and then head to Poppy’s house. We all thought this was a time saver and very smart. When checking in using the cast discounts, it can sometimes take longer than usual and we'd not be back to POP until late that evening. This way, when we arrived we could march right in. Great. Wonderful. Perfect.

Anybody else see something wrong with this plan?

That’s right, we are planning on taking the kids to Disney, through all the signs, the heart pounding excitement, marching into their favorite place to sleep ever, which is the gateway to the World. And then we're leaving.
 

We are peeking at Disney. And than running. To go to a birthday party in a retirement park.

Now in our defense, Mr. A and I were only thinking about ourselves.
This quick stop was sharpening our Disney pencil of excitement. It was the cherry on top of the Disney flavored ice cream Sunday.

Grandma and Grandpa often stay in POP when they're contracting in Orlando, so it's very normal for them to do this.

But the kids, well, turns out, when you take them to Disney World, they want to actually go in.


BC took the news very well, being that he is a 65 year old man in a 9 year old body, he agreed with the logic.

GC, my little tinkleberry, was not seeing the logic of anything but the Hippy Dippy pool. And maybe an airbrush tattoo. Trying to explain things amongst giant yo-yos and bowling pins essentially puts a mommy voice on mute. How can I blame her? Sandwich Disney dangling in front of her with many hours in the van, top with a sprinkling of lack of sleep and I'm looking at a very persnickety six year old.

It's 10am and our day has not even started. Poppy’s party is an elaborate ruse that will take many hours. First we're arriving for our visit at 12:30 which he's expecting. Trickling in at that time as a pre-surprise “surprise” are his three daughters and their families, and his wife’s family. Just a smorgasbord of unexpected people. Then at 4:30pm, we head up to the clubhouse where a party of about 70 of his closest and oldest friends would be treated to dinner, music and fun.

I was doing the Math on that while looking at GC. How much can I expect from her? She's a real trooper, but the lack of sleep is scaring me. She cries as we get in the van to head for the party. We've a few hours left to travel. I'm hoping she will nap in the car.

By the way, in the little room for kids in POP by check in they had the Disney Channel playing on the TV. I really missed the old time cartoons. I guess I want to flush the real world down the toilet at Disney. I don’t want to see anything I normally see at home. Except my family. Well the body hair could go down the pooper. That would be better for everyone.

Up Next! Let’s surprise a 90 year old man!!!!



5 comments:

  1. I should know better by now not to read your posts during breakfast. Yeah, I totally spit out my coffee when I got to the body hair part! LOL!

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  2. Hehehe. The checking early does SOUND like a good plan though.

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  3. I NEVER know what you'll discuss in these blog posts, LOL. The best games are the ones you create yourself, and the Suction Cups of Doom sounds awesome.

    Swimmer don't shave their body hair all season long then for our taper meet we shave it ALL off. (That's why Michael Phelps was sporting a nice mustache prior to the start of the Olympic Trials). So this post was very relevant to me.

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  4. @Grace Haha I have to face the body hair again, leaving for Fla next week!

    @Nicki It did at the time haha

    @Jennifer Is mustache a euphemism for crotch hair? I love your swimmers perspective!

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  5. Wait till you're past menopause, Debra deary!

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