Postal Surprise

When we where on vacation last week in Ohio, the boys and I went to a WalMart in New Boston, OH. As we were walking along near the cash registers, my twelve-year-old found a ten dollar bill. He immediately (without prompting from his mother) took it to the customer service desk to turn it in. They took his address and said that if no one claimed it, they would send it to him.

Well, I never thought we'd see that money. I figured one of the employees would pocket it. Shame on me for not having faith in my fellow man. Twelve got a letter in the mail today from that WalMart with a ten dollar bill and a note that said, "Thank you for your honesty. You were a very special customer to us. :-)"

Of course, now Twelve wants to go to WalMart to spend that money, so the company benefits too.

Home to the Meat Locker

We are back from the annual Brewer family reunion in Ohio. I think I lost a couple of pounds on the trip. It's hard to eat when you're biting your tongue.

We came home to air conditioning (after TWELVE days without it when the temperature was in the freakin' NINETIES) thanks to our warranty company's finally deciding to grow a pair and make a decision to replace the unit. Apparently being spineless is not just limited to BP execs. But hey, once they decided to man up, they put in a giant honking unit that cools my house to the point where I'm afraid to let my tongue come into contact with anything metal, like Flick in A Christmas Story. But I'm safe since I'm still biting said tongue. Am I a great wife or what?

Thanks mostly go to my mom who came over to let the Air Quest guy in so that we wouldn't have to wait another two weeks before they could get to us. Mom also cleaned out all the recyclables we had piled up in the garage and several bags of toys that the boys are probably getting rid of. She's still the bomb diggety. She also watched Lily for us, and now I have a very pouty dog on my hands. At first I thought she was moping around to get back at me for leaving her, but now I think she's depressed because she misses Camp Grama.

I was glad it was so cold in the house because it got me in the mood for the choir retreat when we got our first glimpse of this year's Christmas music. There are some awesome songs coming up and I'm excited about our pastor's ideas for the drama. It will be so nice to enjoy the holiday again this year since Dan is out of retail.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I got new glasses today. By new glasses, I mean really new glasses. I've had reading glasses since 9th grade, and I have astigmatism. But now that I'm 41, I also have to deal with presbyopia and my distance vision is not what it used to be either. You know what that means? Progressive lenses. Which is just a nice way of saying no-line bifocals. Ugh. I'm so old. The lady at my eye doctor said it would take a while to get used to them and she was NOT kidding. I tried to wear them today, but I felt nauseous, dizzy, and headachey. My eyes ached so much after the choir retreat that I even took a nap. Those of you who know me in real life know what a big deal that is. I rarely nap on purpose (although I often fall asleep accidentally while reading) because I'm not so good with the sitting still. Hopefully I'll adjust to them soon because they're way cute and they cost me a small fortune.

Now I have to deal with the mounds of dirty laundry left from our trip. But at least it's not 101 degrees in my laundry room so I'm not complaining. Much.

Day 7 Without Air Conditioning

AKA: A little slice of hell on Earth.

Yes, the heat index is still greater than 100 degrees. Yes, we still don't have AC. Yes, we need some new adjectives because cranky doesn't even begin to describe my mood right now.

I'll be back when I can post something sweet and cuddly.

Brain Melt

So hot. Panting. Nearly too hot to type.

Our AC is out again and I'm melting. It's actually cooler outside than it is in my house and the repair guy won't be here until Monday.

I'd considered pitching the tent and sleeping outside, but I'm scared the fox will show up and say the vulpine equivalent of, "Hallo. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die," after the smiting prayers and subsequent fox roadkill incident(s).

Okay, if you don't read my Facebook posts, you have no idea what I'm talking about and it's too hot to explain right now. Maybe Monday.

After I've scooped my all my melted brain matter and put it back into my cranial cavity.

Hilarious Delirium

Aaron has strep throat and an ear infection again and, while that in itself is not funny, he is hilarious when he's delirious with fever. He gets all loopy and makes rambling, out of the blue comments about random topics in this tiny little weak, pitiful voice. Honestly, he sounds stoned. I kept expecting him to tell me he had the munchies and to pass the Doritos.

Since Aaron waited until 5:11 p.m. to tell me he wasn't feeling well (exactly eleven minutes after the doctor's office closed), we went to Walgreen's Take Care Clinic. There were three people ahead of us waiting for school shots, but they bumped him to the top of the list because of his fever (and because those people left to go have dinner while they waited). Even so, we waited for about an hour (while he had a 102 temperature) before I finally broke down and bought him some Tylenol at the pharmacy.

When they finally got us back into a room, Aaron was asking the triage nurse about every piece of equipment she used and how it operates. Every time she came near him with something in her hand he said, "Is this going to hurt? What does it do? How does it work? Where did you learn how to use it? Oh wait, is this going to hurt?"

He said, "Last time I had strep they gave me a shot. Am I going to get a shot? I didn't cry last time, but I really don't like shots. It felt like a shark jumped up out of the ocean and bit me on the butt."

She laughed and whispered, "Well, guess what? We don't give shots here for sickness, only for immunizations."

He replied, "Oh good because I don't like sharks on my butt. What's an imm-un-i- whateveryousaid?" Then she approached him with a pulse-ox finger thingy and he said, "Hey, what's that? How does it work? Is it going to hurt?"

Then the nurse started to leave. She turned at the door and said, "The NP will be here in a couple of minutes." Aaron said, "Well, how long do you really mean, because "a couple" means two, and I'm pretty sure it'll be more than two minutes. We've been here for an hour already."

Thank goodness that nurse was amused by him, rather than offended. And, just so you know, he was right. It was NOT two minutes--more like another half an hour. During this time, he made random observations about all sorts of things in the room and asked a million questions about the difference between an RN, an NP, and a doctor in that wimpy, pitiful, feverish voice.

Then, about twenty minutes into our wait, the Tylenol kicked in and his rambling kicked up a notch as if I'd given him crack cocaine. "You know how I knew that we'd have to wait a long time? Because I knew that a couple means two because you and Daddy are a couple and there are two of you, and I knew that we'd have to wait more than two minutes because nobody ever waits for just two minutes at a doctor's office. I mean, they usually make you wait forever and you can't play with the toys because you're sick and you shouldn't spread your germs around when you're sick and anyway, this place doesn't even have toys but even if they did I couldn't play with them anyway. Hey--can dogs get sick because I really hope I don't give Lily strep throat because she's the best dog in the world and, oh my gosh--was I contagious at church yesterday? Because I really hope I didn't get my friends and my teachers sick because I love my teachers so much and they're the best teachers in the world and....."

And on and on, world without end, amen, amen.

I worked really hard to not laugh at him. Poor little guy.

Feminine Wants?

On the way to Wal-Mart this afternoon, Twelve said that he "needed" some certain new toy. This, of course, prompted a discussion about the differences between "wants" and "needs." Toys are not needs; they are wants.

When we entered the store, the boys were grumbling because I made them trail along behind me to the "Health and Beauty Aids" section to get some moisturizer when they wanted to go on ahead to the toy section without me. Twelve was reading the signs aloud as we passed. Then he said, "Feminine Needs." I immediately tried to hush him, but he continued. "What the heck are Feminine Needs? Yeah, like women really NEED things like makeup and girly lotions. I'm pretty sure those are wants. "

As the old lady behind us starting choking while trying to cover her laugh, I granted them permission to go to the toy department. Unfortunately it was a little too late to avoid complete maternal mortification.

In a few years when he understands what "Feminine Needs" really are, I can't wait to replay this conversation for him. And that is a need.