Saturday, October 31, 2009
Okay, so Llama was bathed and ensconced in bed with Bucket, all nice and snuggly warm, so my brothers and I went to the Meijer store next door to find laundry detergent. I'd never been in a Meijer. It's like a super Wal-Mart, with food, car parts, clothes and all, but with the added benefit of having beer, wine, and liquor because it's not in Pennsylvania.
So we found the laundry detergent and I thought we were in business, but then Wolfman decided that he wanted to check out the alcohol selection. It was not great. It was the kind of liquor that poor, underage college students without any good friends drink. I'm talking about a gallon of vodka for $5. Even Vladimir costs $13 for a gallon - I should know, I drank enough of it. The Army Guy and I were just poking fun at the knock-off names, like John Danvers and Admiral Nelson (but there was no Jack Daniels or Captain Morgan), while Wolfman inspected the offerings.
Wolfman made the mistake of saying that he wanted Red Bull. A nearby man took that as an invitation to start telling us about his brother, the ER doctor, who regularly takes shots of B12 in order to stay awake. He talked at length about vitamins and how mega-doses of vitamins will provide energy and stamina. He also told us he had been awake for "days." Wolfman just kept nodding and providing more and more personal information, like "We're not from here," and "We're staying right over there."
At one point, I looked at The Army Guy and said, "Is this really happening?" and he nodded, so I guess it was.
Finally, I said, "We have to go, thanks for your time!" and started walking away. The Army Guy followed, and eventually Wolfman did, too. I guess I wasn't clear enough when we were little - you do not talk to strangers! You certainly don't tell them you're traveling! And so we laughed about it because nothing bad happened to us.
Part Three: It's all fun and games until your daughter sticks her hand in a strawberry margarita will follow soon.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
We drove for about an hour and a half, and Llama was super-starving. The kind of starving that causes her to shriek at me and throw her snack trap, because a snack trap is just not going to cut it. There is a dearth of resources on the Ohio turnpike, so we ended up at a rest stop McDonald's. (Note: I am not opposed to Happy Meals.) The line was incredibly long, they had about 3 people working, and nobody was happy. There was a man who said he'd been waiting for a chicken sandwich for 40 minutes. Nevertheless, we got some food and hit the road. (Another note: I used to be opposed to eating in the car, but when needs must...)
Llama ate nuggets and fries and fell asleep. The next hour or so was pretty nice. I started to doze off and... Llama woke up, angrily. So we stopped for diaper changes and running, but it was pretty dark and I don't like to let her run in parking lots in the dark. So I wrestled her little angry self back into the car seat with promises of swimming, which were met with smiles and, "Swim? When swim? Swim swim?"
The next hour or so passed uneventfully. Llama was sleeping again, and I called to let my brothers know that we were arriving shortly so they could meet us and help us carry everything in. It was fabulous. Llama woke up and was very, very, very excited, so we let her jump in the bed and run around even though it was 10 o'clock at night.
And then she threw up in the bed. All over herself, the bed, the pillows, and her blankies. Then she tried to run away from it because she's never thrown up like that before, and she continued to throw up. I finally caught her just in time for her to get it all over me, and got her into the bathroom where she got it all over the bathtub. Bucket, that very smart man, was already on the phone with the front desk getting new bedding and asking about laundry facilities.
There are more parts to this story, but I'm pretty sure Llama is calling Tokyo, so I should probably be done with it for now. Part Two: It's all fun and games until a random guy tries to convince you to get B12 shots, will follow shortly.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
This year, nothing could have stopped her. She danced on the tailboard of a firetruck before marching through town with all of the other monsters, grim reapers, and iPods. (Some costumes were more imaginative than others. There was also a pregnant Ben Roethlisberger. Someone should congratulate him. Her? Whichever.)
I had to be that mom and take her picture in front of the fireplace.
She acquired two treat bags, ate Nerds and Cheez Doodles, and was generally enthralled by all of the flashing lights. When the streets are closed by police cars, firetrucks, and volunteer firemen's personal vehicles, there are a lot of flashing lights. Llama likes them. She also likes candy. It was a good night.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
E: What does a cow say?
E: What does a duck say?
Llama: Mwack. (Llama speak for quack.)
E: What does a pig say?
E: I don't know that kind of pig.
Me: Laughing hysterically.
I have no idea how she made that connection. Of course, I do know where she heard the word "shit," and it was from me. It's time to clean up the ol' vocabulary.