Florida Day 4 or "Dolphins, Cousins, and Chocolate, Oh My!"

In Florida, sometimes dolphins come right up to your boat.

In Florida, we have cousins. From D.C.

In Florida, the Easter Bunny leaves a trail of chocolate from bed to living room, just like at home.

But in Florida, you have to swim to get to your chocolate eggs.

Which causes Brady to say, "Next year, I'm leaving traps for that darn rabbit."

Catching air on Easter morning is fun in Florida.

And I finally found a partner in seashell hunting. Brady's hooked.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

We're leaving for a spring break trip to Florida in less than two hours, but because I'm soooo ultra-organized, here I am, blogging. Truth be told, I tend to procrastinate quite a bit when I'm prepping for a trip, and this time was no different. And then my procrastination bites me in the butt when unscheduled events decide to make an appearance just about the time I really really REALLY need to be packing. This time, a visitation for a 12 yr old boy (I didn't know the boy but I went to school with his poor mum) and a request for a haircut.

Jonathan had been asking for a haircut for days, but in my distracted ADD-addled way, I kept forgetting. He'd ask at inopportune moments like when we were driving down the road or leaving for somewhere or just as my eyelids grew heavy toward slumber, so I'd put him off with a "remind me tomorrow" postponement.

Well, last night, he begged. I'd just begun settling in after an emotional and long visitation, when Jonathan flopped his mop of hair in front of me. "See, Mom? I'll be hot in Florida!" And then he continued. "See, Mom? My hair will be in my eyes when I swim!" He forged on. "See, Mom? It's TOO LONG." (For the record, a week ago, when I suggested a haircut, it was not too long.) And he made some pleading faces at me, full-out desperation.

His hair has been getting a bit unruly lately and his head seems to be allergic to combs, too. As I combed it last night, he groaned about the comb touching his scalp. It seems when HE combs his hair, he goes only for the ends. He likened it to getting something under your fingernails - "Your body isn't used to having something touch there, so it feels bad. That's how my head feels!" he said, as he ouch-ouch-ouched his way through the most gentle combing I could manage.

I got to work. When I cut Rob's hair, I charge "one shopping spree" in hopes he'll see the financial benefit in going to a barber. But for Jonathan I only charged a couple of hugs.


Here's proof that I was midway to pajama land when he begged me to cut his hair. Those are pajama pants I'm sporting with my newly-purchased top. It's a new fashion statement I'm starting in the cornfields. Sort of a glam-mom-meets-afternoon-naps look. How's it workin' for me?
It'd been a while since anyone had seen Jonathan's neck. Isn't it a great neck?
And those ears! Who knew? He's got great ears. We haven't seen them since sometime in early 2007.
The pile of hair on the floor freaked me out a bit. Rob swept it up and there was so much it looked like a very hairy cat had died on my kitchen floor. And the amount was astounding. I have thin, fine hair, so it's an odd thing to feel envy for a pile of hair clippings on the floor. But I did.

Jonathan was a little freaked out when I was finished. And he kept complaining that he was c-c-c-cold without his shaggy mane to cover his head.

But soon enough he began to like his new, airy head. Now he's all set for swimming in Florida.

And even though it took a try or two...

He did finally pay up. In full.

Happy Spring Everyone! Will post from Florida if I'm not too busy sunning myself, drinking coffee on the beach, hunting for seashells, or screaming on the Sheikra (AGAIN) at Busch Gardens.

In other words, see you when I get back, good people.

*grin*

Florida Day 3 or "Everything's Better in Florida"

Even a rainy day is better in Florida.

Last year, Panama. This year, Florida. Wonder where we'll color eggs next year?

Maybe, Just Maybe, it will be somewhere tropical.

Post-Vacation Sucker Punch

I'm sick, people. I'm very, very sick. I'm sick in the head is what I am.

Jonathan came down with a crazy-bad head cold during the last three days of our Florida trip. He was a trooper, doing Busch Gardens by day, but walking into our hotel room each dinnertime with an announcement of, "I'm tired. I don't feel good. I'm going to bed." And he burrowed under the covers 3.5 seconds later, not to emerge until the following day. By our last day in Florida, there was a slight burning in my chest - which is a good sign of, um, nothing good.

I'm sure it had nothing to do with Jonathan handing me his dirty tissues for 3 days straight, tissues he is apparently incapable of disposing of himself despite my 3-step instructional tutorial I freely offered every chance I got.

"First, honey, you wrap up the boogers in the tissue. No, YOU do it, they're YOUR boogers. Then, sweety, you throw the tissue away. No, not on my lap, in the trash can. And Boo, you need to wash your hands. Yes, you do. Yes. You do. Please. Please?"

But as we all know, it is written in the fine print that mothers are obligated to handle all bodily functions no matter how gooey, and so I stuffed my backpack with 8,283 tissues and followed Jonathan around, ready to prevent as much projectile mucous-sharing as I could.

I was talking a bit with Kelly about penance. To punish myself for my shameless bragging that I was in a warm place when most of you weren't (excepting Joanne, who had the foresight to simply move to said warm place rather than continually moan about wanting to live in said warm place - what a concept!), I did a bit of jogging to flog myself for it. I do not like to jog. I especially do not like to jog at 10:30 am when it is already so humid in Florida that breathing is like sticking your face into a sauna the size of a ziplock bag. But the road was flat and my running shoes were packed (Whatever was I thinking?) and I had to find a way to stop the osmotic absorption of nine restaurant dinners into my thigh tissue, so I laced my sneakers and took off.

But Kelly kindly pointed out (too late) that penance is not usually necessary as karma will inevitably take care of things. Thanks, Kelly, thanks for the timeliness of your message. Really.

So here I am, propped up in front of my computer, only because if I have to lay prone for one more second I fear my back muscles will contort beyond the point of no return, wrapped in the biggest comforter I could find, with a scarf wrapped around my neck, a box of tissues (my third) at the ready, a steady stream of hot tea (thanks to sweet Jonathan who fills my cup and asks, "Can I get anything for you? A sandwich?"), and doing shots of anything I can find in Rob's homemade pharmacy which promises relief anywhere in the upper half of my body. Usually I am fairly openly hostile about Rob's love for over-the-counter pharmaceuticals, insisting most things need to run their course and his body would heal itself if he'd just let it. But not today. When I woke at 4am, sure I had pneumonia and obsessing about how drowning in my own mucus will be such a horrible way to die, I suddenly became willing to drink or swallow anything with "relief" written on the label and tasting like toxic-cherry-bubble gum-waste. And how's that working for me you ask? Well, I now have an acid stomach, which does, believe or not, sometimes take my focus off the feeling that my sinus cavities are about to do an Old Faithful any minute now.

I don't know if it's being in a house of boys that does it, but the bedside manner 'round here is just so-so, with Brady asking, "Oh, you're sick?" despite my incessant moaning from the couch region of the house, and Rob telling me to "Go lay down!" like I'm a dog or something. He does do a pretty amazing infomercial for all the OTC drugs we have in our house, most of which I've never seen much less used myself. I wonder if we put him on youtube he'll get royalties or something? "Side effects may include severe dizziness, abdominal bleeding, divorce papers served by your wife's cutthroat attorney, and uncontrollable wheezing. Ask your doctor if MucusBeGone is right for you."

And, of course, there's the especially nasty karmic sting that we always get sick on weekends, when we're given the unattractive choice between suffering (and panicking during my late-night irrational bouts of "I think I'm going to die. Rob." nudge nudge "No really, I think I'm dying. I'm drowning in my own phlegm. I think my lungs are filling up. Rob." nudge nudge poke) and paying three thousand times more to see a doctor who's surely not covered by any insurance plan within a hundred-mile radius and who will give you that look that says, "Ya, you and every other hypochondriac in here is doing to die this very minute," followed by, "I think it's a virus, go home and go to bed and if you get any worse between now and Monday (but we all know miraculous recoveries are pre-scheduled for 8am on Monday mornings), call an ambulance or something. That'll be 3 gazillion dollars, please."

Ok, I'm done whining. For now. I'm going to go do head-stands on the couch in hopes of unplugging my left ear (which has been plugged since yesterday and is going to drive me ape-sh*t-mad anysecondnow), snort salt water ala neti-pot-style, down another gallon of my homemade concoction of cayenne pepper, honey, and apple cide vinegar, and continue telling Rob to stop talking to me like I'm a dog.

But I hope you, my lovely friends, are having a delightful, snot-free day and a good chuckle at my throw-down loss to karma and her bad-*ss peeps.

I deserve it, I guess.

Cousin Dish

This is Cousin Tricia (formerly known as "Trish the Dish" due to her high rate of success attracting men in our college days). Dish stayed with us for four days, home from Las Vegas for grandma's funeral services and therefore, by sheer luck of timing, our early extended-family Christmas celebration. Now, Dish and I have not spent any great amount of time together since sometime in 1991, when we were in college at UW-Madison together and it was imperative that not a Thursday, Friday, or Saturday night go by without painting the town red.

Dish was the responsible one. She actually studied regularly; I crammed at the last minute. She actually went to class; I skipped more than I attended. Dish was a whole lotta d*mn fun, but she had a 'look' she'd give when it was time to reign me back in. Sometimes I didn't know how to find the brake pedal. There were some things I had over Dish, though. I changed my sheets more often than she changed hers, for example. Far more often. I'm just sayin'.

Our favorite drinking man-trolling social establishment was Joe Hart's which, sadly, is no longer Joe Hart's. (I hate it when they mess with my memories like that. Even worse, the Pizza Hut where I waitressed all through college - can you say holy free-pizza-jackpot - is now a parking lot.) Joe Hart's was the sort of place where you could count on the same group of folks to end up, night after night. The whole place erupted into a loud, arm-in-arm swayin' rendition of Piano Man every night. It had a bit of an English pub flair, good food, too small bathrooms, a payphone (remember those?) I used regularly, and was plum full of very nice looking boys to choose from. Which we did. Regularly.

And we had this sort of schtick.. part of it went something like this:

Cute guy: That your friend? She's cute.

Trish the Dish: Of course she is, she's my cousin!

She was my partner in crime, my side kick, my protector, my make-you-laugh-until-your-sides-ache grrrl pal, and the fact that she's my first cousin was a super huge bonus. We had another little schtick that when employed just so, was very effective - we were kissing cousins. Dish liked to use this for shock value, and it wasn't unusual for her to call to me from all the way across the bar, wave me over, lay one on me when I got there, and say, "See?" to whichever guy she was working at the moment; and I'd just smile, shrug my shoulders, and return to the place from whence I'd come. It dropped more than a few jaws over the years, made even more fun by how nonchalantly we did it.

But an important thing to note is we very, very rarely let one of us leave with a guy. For one thing, we very, very rarely found a guy worth leaving for; at least never ones who could ensure more fun than we were having together. We weren't there to land guys, we were there to have fun; and we had the most fun together. For another thing, we took each other's safety very seriously. If Dish wanted to leave with a guy (and I'm talking about even letting her walk to the next bar with him), it was standard that I gave him the once-over, the twice-over, the check under the hood plus the kick of the tires, and I'd have done a background check if possible. We always made sure we got a good look at the bloke, and fired a few probing questions at him. We usually made sure some of our protective male friends got a good look at the guy too, adding a few thinly veiled looks-of-threat that delivered the clear message that he was being trusted with precious cargo - Dare Not Screw This Up Lest You Want to Be Hunted Down. And Maimed. No, really.

The Dish really has a way with people. One year five of us took a bus trip to Florida for spring break. Five hours into the trip Dish knew every person on the bus. Every person on the bus. While I flirted with the cute boys behind me, she went from seat to seat, wriggled herself in, started with, "Hi! I'm Tricia!" and launched into her litany of questions that always makes even the most introverted of folks crawl out for some attention. In Florida we'd walk into a nightclub and without fail, a group of people I'd never seen would hail Tricia like she was an old friend and life of the party. She was both. For years after, we'd walk down the main street on campus and it was common for Tricia to be greeted, me to say, "Who was that?" and Dish to reply, "You don't remember him? He's a psych major from Milwaukee. A senior. He was on our Florida trip."

Of course he was.

But I'm not here to share all the torrid details of our college years together. (That could be its own blog. Come over for tea sometime, though - I've got some goodies!) I'm here because Dish has finally, after all these years, finally, caught up to me, finally, in one certain department. She finally started having children! (Jeez, grrrl, I told you it was fun!)

Look who she brought with her - Baby A!

Look at that face, would you? It's enough to get a grrrl's hormones in a twist.

And here's the thing about Baby A. He's always content like this. And I mean always. Always as in all the time. Morning, noon, and night. Middle of the night, too. And middle of the morning. And middle of the noon. Or something.



Seriously. He's very happy. He's calm. He's curious. As in, what is that thing that keeps flashing in my eyes and why does this lady keep moving it around?

"Hey mom? This lady has that thing in my face again."

I told Dish she could leave him here if she wants. She probably won't, but I offered just in case. You never know. It's worth a try. I've got experience with babies. And we've got lots of fun things to do around here.


And I won't always put him to sleep on the bathroom floor. Just sometimes.

For the record (and for those who have DCFS on speed-dial because of times like this), Dish took him into the bathroom while she showered and he fell asleep. We have better places for babies to sleep in our house. Like in my arms.
We became fast friends, Baby A and me. And thanks to Baby A, I have a new nickname - Cousin L.
Doesn't Baby A look like he belongs here with me? Don't I look good with Baby A on my lap? I think he'd fit in nicely with our family. Here, my niece Maddie (Cousin M) helps me entertain him. Except, he doesn't require entertaining. Maybe we were just entertaining ourselves.

And Baby A even helps Brady study for finals. Brady needed help writing some essays, so Baby A, Dog D, and I came to the rescue. We hung out and took pictures and got to know each other better and discussed which room he'll want when he gets a bit older while Brady studied.

But Baby A, frankly, was a bit disgusted with the state of Brady's study area. He got Brady started on his history essay by asking some leading questions about the geography of Ancient Egypt, then fussed, "I can't work in these conditions."

You can see how Brady (Cousin B) was happy to have Baby A's input. "Hey Baby A, why does my mom call your mom Dish?"


But alas, Jonathan's activity seemed far more engaging and fun. Baby A decided to get in a little video game action.


I think he's gonna fit in just fine around here. Don't you, Dish?


Dish?

Where you goin' with that baby?

Dish?

Dish?!

It's The People

Ok, I think I'm ready to share more about the conference.

The highlight of the Live and Learn conference was meeting amazing people. It was such an open and welcoming environment, it was far easier than I expected to slip right into the existing community. I admit I was a bit leery of meeting everyone. Don't get me wrong - I'm a classic extrovert. But like I said before, I wasn't sure if people had filled in the blanks with the right information after only knowing me online. Will I be quieter or louder than they expected? Will we hit it off in real life like we do online? What if I'm a big, fat disappointment? And do these jeans make my butt look fat? Ok, nevermind on that last one, but it turns out that I was PPMSing (that would be PRE-pre-menstrual syndrome) during the conference, and that explains that little moment of temporary insanity. And that zit on my chin. But Silvia says I'm just as she imagined, so hang on a sec while I let out that breath I've been holding... ***whew***... k, better now.

Lesson - never underestimate the intuitive powers of unschoolers.

As I wandered through the registration area, I heard a little shout of "Oh my gosh - that's Laura!" And I turned to meet this amazing woman:

Kelli of "our joyful life" is a blogger, too, and she and her unschooling family recently moved to Georgia. Kelli always leaves the nicest comments on my and others blogs, and her love for her children is evident in her blog musings. I could tell immediately that if Kelli lived closer, we'd be hanging - yes, we would. She has just the right amount of energy, wit, sarcasm, and wisdom. And I got all that in the first few minutes of talking with her. Kelli, it was fantastic meeting you and I only wish we'd had time to talk more. Next time!

It was great to see Ren again, after our serendipitous meeting and chat at the InHome conference in the Chicago area last spring. Ren is full of life and has an intoxicating energy. And she can do costume make-up and art like nobody's business. She would be rip-roaring fun to hang out with too, if we didn't live so far apart. Dear Ren - can I interest you in a cornfield with a view? Bring Kelli.

And then there was Keti. Keti came as a blessing disguised as a problem. See, we both have kids who wanted to try school, Brady last year, and her daughter this year. We discussed it online before the conference and planned a meet-up at the conference so we could comiserate, share wisdom, and connect on this shared transition. We hit it off immediately and spent a lot of time together at the conference. Keti is one of those delightful, kind, comfortable people; I felt like I'd known her forever. That's just the kind of friendship I like! Later, we laughed that something that seemed so negative (kids in school) brought us something so positive - our new friendship! Yay for silver linings. Keti - do you like cornfields?

Another gift from the school discussion - Geri. Geri is another comfortable friend, the kind of person who, approximately 5.6 seconds after knowing you, invites you to not only visit, but STAY, in her DC-area home when you're, say, heading out for a field trip in, say, late October. Geri is the founder of Good News Network - when I realized that, I was very excited, as I know of that site and find it very impressive and inspiring. I very much enjoyed getting to know Geri, with the bonus being that our teenage boys formed a rock band with Cameron Lovejoy and performed at the talent show! Geri, I can't wait to see you next month! You are a good soul. I promise not to steal your silver when we come to visit. P.S. Anything about cornfields you find especially appealing?

Then, another real treat - I got to meet Scott-freakin-Noelle! I'd known of Scott for a long time. He moderated the online yahoo discussion group about The Continuum Concept. What, you haven't read that book you say? Then get cracking and do. And do not think I'm kidding when I say it will rock your world. It rocked mine - right out of mainstream life and into unschooling! Scott has since developed a career as a phenomenal parenting coach and writer and he recently published his new book, The Daily Groove, "a collection of brief, practical, inspirational messages designed to help parents transform 'the daily grind' of parenting into a satisfying, empowering, joyful adventure." Amen brutha! I bought his book at the conference, and it is so readable and user-friendly, its format being short essays that can be read individually, and its message so completely full of wisdom, that a friend snatched it up at our parkday gathering the first time I showed it. "I need this book," said my friend. I would take that a bit further and say that all parents need this book! Go visit Scott's website and get ye that book!

Scott was a ton of fun at the conference, and much to my surprise, he is a total nut! He can be witty and wise, deep and philosophical, and next thing you know, he's busting a move on the dance floor. It was a great pleasure to make his acquaintance. Dearest Scott - ever busted a move in a cornfield? There's room.

There are so many great folks to mention.

The St. Louis family, Curtis and Debbie, whom I met with my stock question of "Is this your first L&L conference? Mine too!" (I have a knack for spotting newbies.) Turns out they know friends of ours in St. Louis, which pretty much guarantees we'll see them again in the near future. It was great chatting with them. Oh, and Debbie can bust a move her own self. You go, grrrl! Debbie - come bust a move in our cornfield. With Scott Noelle. Curtis - ever considered juggling corncobs?

And there was the Canadian couple, Chris and Jess. I think we met them over dinner in the most challenging part of the conference cafeteria. (What kind of cruel joke is it to make unschoolers eat in a cafeteria?!) We didn't get as much time with them as we'd have liked, but Jonathan's always wanted to visit Canada so now we have another great reason to venture north! Or, you could just come down and join our commune in the cornfields. C'mon... Everyone's doing it!

And there were a whole bunch of conference divas I fell in love with. Madeline, on the left, is an adorable organic farmer. She has an infectious energy. I loved her immediately. Gail, in the center, is a Florida unschooler. I just realized, from Ren, that she has a blog. I will be visiting her - on her blog, and hopefully in person when we venture back to Florida next spring! (Gail - any karaoke in Florida? :-) And on the right is the conference diva of all conference divas, Kelly Lovejoy. Kelly is the amazing force behind this convergence of like minds. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't know any of these amazing people. Kelly - you totally rock.

Dear divas - please move to my cornfield. Thanks.

And last, but certainly not least... there was this grrl:

Sweet Silvia. Isn't she cute? Silvia and I hit it off, right after I poked her in the arm during the tattoo funshop. But I didn't just poke her for no reason - I poked her because I'd been keeping an eye out for the blogger named Silvia with the cascading blond curls and the enormous smile, and suddenly, there she was, right in front of me. So I poked her. Silvia was one of my first blog readers and we've been conversing ever since. She's even more delightful than I expected - and let me tell you, I had grand expectations. She has an amazing aura about her, and you could just see how things were lighter in her presence. She's sweet and kind and friendly, and there's a special VIP location in my cornfield just for her. Dear Silvia - when you comin'?

There were others, but unfortunately I didn't get pictures with them. And while, yes, we unschool with and for our children, I couldn't help but think how lucky I am to have discovered this amazing community of free-thinkers, attached parents, and joy-seeking unschoolers. Thank you to everyone for making the conference experience so wonderful and for inspiring us to continue living this beautiful, unscripted life of living, learning, and loving together. Even if we're out here in the cornfields..... all.... alone.

So, how we gonna go about subdividing this here cornfield for y'all, hmmm?

Chasing Amy

I'm Chasing Amy.

No, not the movie, although I did love that movie. Wasn't it great? That's when I first saw Joey Lauren Adams, and do you know that until now, until this very moment, every time I've seen her in recent movies I've thought, "Now just WHERE did I first see her???" Man, it was really bugging me, so yay for my serendipitous discovery! It'll allow me to sleep better tonight, it will. So have you seen Chasing Amy? If you haven't, you run down to your locally-owned movie store right now and rent it. And if they don't have it, tell them to get with it, man, and locate it for you.

But that's not what I want to talk about. I'm Chasing a different Amy. Amy Steinberg. That's the Amy I'm chasing.

A blog link sent me to her myspace page the other day. She's already my myspace friend (we're, like, TIGHT doncha know) but I've never heard her perform live so I decided to check out her Upcoming Shows. It went something like this...

Ohmygosh she's going to be in Chicago this week! Oh wait, she'll be there on the 21st and I'll be in St. Louis by then. Shoot.

Ohmygosh she's going to be in St. Louis on the 24th! Oh wait, we're leaving on the 24th to come home. Shoot.

Ohmygosh she's going to be in Florida in March! She'll be in Tampa and I'm going to be in Tampa! Oh wait, she'll be there on the 15th and I won't get there until the 19th. Shoot.

Ohmygosh she'll be in Florida for another show later that week and I'll still be there! Oh wait, that gig is across the state, 200 miles away. Shoot.

And by then, good people, my "Shoot!" had really turned to "Sh*t!" and I was emotionally exhausted from the repeated let-down.

You have to admit, it's a little odd that I get that close in 3 different states but can't quite seal the deal.

Oh well, I'm off to St. Louis for a few days. Be sure to rent Chasing Amy while I'm gone so we can discuss it when I get back. Try not to miss me too much - I know it's a scary thought to go a few days without reading a post about a boy in a box or inhaling chicken sh*t while bike riding or why Betty Crocker ain't got nuthin' on me, but I guess you'll just have to try.

Oh, and if you see Amy? Please tell her I'm looking for her.

I Can Make an Omelette (Ok, no I can't)

After a particularly good meal at a restaurant, I like to try to recreate the recipe at home. As you can imagine, I'm often less than successful. But I keep trying.

In Florida, we had breakfast at a quaint beachside restaurant with an omelette bar. A very quiet, unassuming man would whip up an omelette with the fixin's of your choice, and he made it all look so effortless.

Those were the best omelettes I've ever had, probably due in no small part to two things - A) I didn't have to make them, and B) We were at a beachside resort in Florida. ((sigh))

When I got home I decided I could make an effortless omelette too. Fluffy perfection.

Heat a pan, add a splash of oil. Saute some veggies, then pour in some beaten egg whites. Lift the edges and let the uncooked egg run underneath. Then flip the omelette into the air with a quick thrust of the pan. (Wait... probably best if I skip the mid-air omelette airshow...) Turn over the omelette, add the merest sprinkling of cheese, and fold in half. Serve with fresh fruit and a mimosa bloody mary jello shot glass of freshly-squeezed juice and a cappucino.

I'd watched the quiet, unassuming man make my omelette morning after blessed morning, and I had the system well-rehearsed.

Well, the pile-of-egg-rubble-that-was-my-omelette tasted fine, it just didn't, um, present so well. However did I go wrong? I did it exactly like the quiet, unassuming man from the quaint beachside restaurant!

Then Rob wandered in. Then he laughed at me. Then he told me I did it all wrong. And then, insult of all insults, he made this:

Smarty pants.

One-upper.

Know-it-all.

Um, darling? Will you share?

It Can't Be

It just can't be. It doesn't seem possible that here we are, in Florida, reunited 23 years after we hung out. 23 years. That's a long d*mn time. That's "don't ever say that again" long, according to Sarah, who comes to our Brady Bunch from "Mike's" side.

This is my cousin Heather, whose life took a radically different turn from mine, considering she's a Capital One bigwig making lots of money and I'm, well, a stay-at-home unschooling mom making no money. Same roots, same cornfields, same experiences, wildly different outcomes. Fun, huh?

And that's Kasumi. Kasumi was the Japanese exchange student who stayed with Heather's family when Heather and I were high school sophomores. Kasumi was - and is - a hoot and a half and my memories are filled with all kinds of crazy stories like the time she told me on a ski trip that she was going to kick my *ss if I wasn't quiet so she could get to sleep. Naturally I egged her on, mostly because it was just so darn funny to hear her say, "I mean it, Lorla - I'm going to keek your ahss" over and over in her heavy Japanese accent. Or the time she insisted that scratching off the tops of my mosquito bites would make them stop itching and I actually let her do it and then walked around for 3 days with little bloody wounds that, now that I think about it, didn't itch anymore but looked like hell. Or the time we all went to a lake in northern Wisconsin on vacation together and Heather and I went to bed to find that Kasumi had decorated our pillows by propping them up on end, dressing them in our bras and panties, and placing tampons and maxi pads in various places.

I have many many more stories about Heather as well - hilarious, obnoxious, blackmail-ish stories that I won't tell lest word get out in the corporate world. Let's just say Heather can be loud. And sometimes barked out car windows. That's all I'm gonna say.

It was great fun to catch up today and catch up on each other's lives.

And now back to my favorite Florida activity: holding down that lawn chair.

Tomorrow, I might get a little crazy and hold down a pool raft.