Project Vacation

Darling Hubby got the opportunity to attend a conference in Las Vegas this week. Since Las Vegas is one of our very favorite spots, we decided that at some point this week, I would join him and we would bask in the seediness of Sin City. So why am I totally stressed out?

Problem One: Junior. Needs a sitter. Number 1 Favorite Sitter is away at college. Number 2 Favorite Sitter (who happens to be #1's sister) is still in high school and would not be a good choice for camping at our house while we are gone. Gramma/Grampa are on a cruise....dammit!
Solution: Get unsuspecting volunteers! A couple of friends that have no kids (but one dog) will do it. Celebrate! Curse Gramma/Grampa for being gone during same week of conference.

Problem Two: Said friends are extremely busy at work and have not had time to "bond" with Junior by babysitting him. Will he freak out when they attempt to pick him up at daycare? You are not my mommy...you are not my daddy. What have you done with them? Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Solution: Schedule a dinner out with said couple and Junior and us. Have them interact with him and see how 'easy' he is. Junior somehow figures out plan and acts like crazy freakish mutant boy.

Problem Three: Since said friends have not actually babysat for Junior, they do not know his routines, food preferences, strange behaviors, etc. As any mom/dad will tell you, THE SCHEDULE is Golden. You break with THE SCHEDULE, you pay the price. I would like to keep them from running, screaming from our house, if possible.
Solution: Take several hours to write a 4-page document, entitled "Care and Feeding of Junior" that details his eating, drinking, pooping, playing preferences in excrutiating detail. Hope that they read it.

Problem Four: Actually leaving. On day of departure, must get up, get dressed, get Junior dressed and fed, feed two faithful dogs, feed self. Take Junior to daycare. Convince self that this is normal day and will see him again at 5:30pm. Probably not succeed. Return home to load up dogs in different car (Hubbie's truck). Take them to kennel. Convince self that I will not miss dogs either. Return home. Use multiple sheets of lint brush to remove dog hair from self. Realize that I have to pack some of those things called 'clothes' that one wears on vacation. Run around grabbing items that probably will not match upon further inspection. Throw suitcase into trunk of car. Drive like bat from hell to get to airport on time. Worry the entire flight about what I've forgotten to do.

God, I love vacations!

Bring Back my Beefcake!

I watch Survivor...religiously. I've watched it since the first season, and haven't missed a show yet. I've recently come to a harsh realization. One of the reasons I watch Survivor is to see scantily-clan, hot young men on a tropical island. First, I was shocked to realize this about myself. Second, I'm pissed, because the beefcake is disappearing right before my eyes!

This season, the older, more round-y men on the Lopevi tribe have decided to start voting off the young hotties. They figure that team-be-damned, they are going to eliminate the threat of competing against these younger guys that actually remove their ass from the couch periodically to do something more aerobic than opening the fridge. First Brook got their vote (no big loss - he was extremely annoying), then John P. bit the dust (he was hot, but in a serial killer kinda way). But this week, they crossed the line. Brady, the buff FBI Agent got the boot. Picture a cuter Fox Mulder with a mean six pack and 5:00 shadow... Is it getting hot in here?

So now there's only one young hottie left - John K. It's unfortunate, because John seems like a smart, nice guy (not to mention a model/mechanical bull operator...according to the CBS website). So it bugs me even more, since I like smart, nice guys. Especially when they are young and hot.

So I'm not a happy tribe member. I have to endure about 8 more weeks of Sarge and Bubba. Even if you don't watch Survivor, you can guess from their names that these guys are not young NOR hot. And in fairness, if they were at least entertaining to watch, that would help. They are not. I suppose I could watch The Apprentice, but beefcake in suits is just not the same.

Big, Big Winner...Maybe

I got the mail today. I opened up a letter that looked like an ad, pretending to be a personal letter. It wasn't an ad. It was a notification that I was a winner. Okay, yah, I'm a big winner, I thought. Now what do I have to buy? Hmmm... No, I really was a winner.

The letter was from a burger 'n custard restaurant that I had stopped at on the way to my husband's family reunion in Iowa. I actually remember filling out the sweepstakes coupon with one eye, while watching my son running away with the other.

As I remember, I entered because the grand prize was a Harley-Davison motorcycle. A 2005 Electra Glide® Ultra Classic® Harley-Davidson® motorcycle to be exact. (why do I feel like Ralphie in A Christmas Story? Would I shoot my eye out with a Harley?) Another prize was a mountain bike. A Trek® moutain bike to be exact (that's about $400 mountain bike for you pedestrian-types). Way cool stuff, huh?

My letter described my winnings. Ohboyohboyohboyohboy. I was a "Second Prize Winner". OHBOYOHBOYOHBOYOHBOY... What was it? What did I win?

Wanna know what I won?

Custard. 1 quart of custard. Not even a frickin' gallon...just a measley quart of custard. Retail price...about $3.00.

Oh, wait, I get a jar of fudge topping too. And a jar of carmel topping. And I get 4 glass custard cups featuring the restaurant's 20th Anniversary logo on it. Oh boy. Yippee.

No bike (varoom-varoom). No bike (pedal-pedal). Custard.

Am I a winner or not? I'm still trying to decide...