Sprite's Keeper

Spin Cycle: I can't believe I'm telling you this, but..

I have synesthesia.

Or HAD, for the most part. This type of condition can fade with time as we leave childhood behind and grow into ourselves cognitively. I can only attribute certain situations to it now.

I diagnosed myself with it years ago after seeing an episode of 20/20 documenting people with the same experiences and realized that the colors I used to "see" when listening to music or really any kind of sound as a child wasn't just in my head. Brassy songs still have a visual effect with me and piercing whistles (John is guilty of this) will make me see white. (People will wonder why I wince so violently when John emits that blinding sound. This is why.)

I am still this way with letters, numbers and even colors. Anyone looking to go against me in a baby shower word jumble better resign themselves to the fact that the $5.00 gift card to Target is MINE. (I've been accused of cheating repeatedly throughout my years in school when even the teachers thought there was no possible way I could have found all the hidden words that quickly.)

But that's not my confession.

My confession is, while I'm great with sounds, colors, numbers and letters, I am terrible with faces.

I have a fear. Every day when I enter Sprite's daycare at pick up time and look among the masses of children all peering up at me, hoping that my face is the one they want to see, my fear gnaws at me.

Will I recognize my own child? Or will I be found out?

Back when Sprite was a wee lass, I was complimented all the time on how I had such a Gerber baby. (Being that my Baba's maiden name was Gerber, people didn't know how close to the truth they were.) And Sprite personified that look with a cute button nose, fair features, nothing too big or small, and dark fuzz gracing the top of her (big) head. Looking back, she was a beautiful baby. (It's totally true.)

Of course, I was quickly tuned into her cries, knowing her from scads of other babies just by the tone and speed. But if you were to put her among a sea of twenty, my heart would quicken in response as if taking too long to spot her would cost me the role of "mother".

Sprite was about five months old when I walked into the Newborn Room at her daycare. Pausing near the doorway, I looked over to her crib which was stationed toward the back of the room. She wasn't in it, her green crocheted blanket drizzled across the mattress as the only evidence that she had been sleeping there recently. Deducing she would therefore be in the main play area, my eyes roved over the floor, pausing at the two jumperoos being occupied, the exercausers, and even the teachers who were sitting with other babies on the floor, involved in simple games.

I didn't see Sprite. A few of the teachers were standing at the kitchenette area, watching me expectantly. I smiled at them, and quickly resumed my search, checking the area again. Again, I didn't see her.

I turned back to the teachers and asked, "Where is Sprite?"

One of the teachers stopped smiling and gave me a hard look. "Really?"

My eyebrows raised in question.

"She's right in front of you."

I looked down at the jumperoo a few feet away and focused on the child within it. It was Sprite. I had looked at her. Twice. And twice I had not recognized her.

The teachers had a good laugh at my expense and I even chuckled as my cheeks burned in shame at being found out.

Now, it's difficult for me to NOT spot her since her hair, face, and even the way she moves is uniquely her. Her classmates also help out by announcing my arrival whenever the opening door reveals my identity.

But my safety net? I can tell you what she's wearing down to the color of her socks. Every morning, I take an internal inventory of how she looks and use it as my homing device to center on my pink/ green/ blue/ whatever color wearing target as she sits among almost a hundred other children.

Heaven help me if she spills something on herself and they need to change her outfit.

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All is forgiven! But do me a favor and offer your forgiveness as well to the great Spinners!

Suzicate over at The Water Witch's Daughter is forgiven!

 

Meowmie over at Meowmie's Weblog - Forgiven!

 

Maureen over at IslandRoar -Forgiven!

 

Jan over at Jan's Sushi Bar -Forgiven!

 

Gretchen over at Second Blooming -In video! Forgiven!

 

Bano over at Bano Bits -Forgiven!

 

Peg over at Square Peg in a Round Hole -Forgiven!

 

Stacy over at Stacy's Random Thoughts -Forgiven!

 

Erin over at The Locals Love It 

 

Jenboglass over at Steenky Bee -Forgiven!

 

Pines Lake Redhead over at Pines Lake Redhead -Forgiven!

 

Michele over at It's A Dog's Life -Forgiven!

 

Rachel over at The Ramblings of Rachel -Updated Friday! Forgiven! Fresh Spin!

 

Kendra over at Life in the Slow Lane -Updated Friday! Forgiven! Fresh Spin!

 

Maureen over at Adventures in the Underground -Updated Friday! Forgiven! Fresh Spin!

 

Heather over at Welch Happenings -Updated Friday! Forgiven! Fresh Spin!

 

LisaDay over at This, That and the Other Thing -Updated Friday! Forgiven! Fresh Spin! New to the Spin Cycle!

 

Camille over at Archives of Our Lives -Updated Friday! Forgiven! Fresh Spin!

 

Vandy over at The Testosterone Three and Me -Updated Friday! Forgiven! Fresh Spin!

 

Mama Badger over at Out of the Boondocks and Into the Burbs... -Updated Friday! Forgiven! Fresh Spin!

 

Patty over at Pancakes Gone Awry -Updated Friday! Forgiven! Fresh Spin!

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Next week's Spin Assignment: Sports!

The Olympics are almost over, has anyone else been devoting their evenings to it like me? Sorry, John, and I've got sports on the brain!

I pass a crack in the sidewalk and it immediately becomes a long jump. My shoes slide on the linoleum in the office kitchen and I wonder if I should do it again, only this time add a triple lutz jump. Climbing the stairs becomes a timed event, I MUST BEAT MY BEST TIME!

And baseball starts soon. There's that too. Are your kids in sports? Dance? Were you? Are you STILL? Are they good? Bad? Too many? Not enough?

Is skiing your sport? How about running? Are you just competitive in everything you do therefore your entire LIFE is a sport? (You must own stock in Gatorade.)

Spin it out, speed it over, and set a record!

See you next week on the Spin Cycle!

Patience is..

..watching your child eat her spaghetti noodle by noodle.

..explaining in a calm voice that every squiggly piece of pasta does not need a name. Or a baptism in her milk.

..not rolling your eyes when she proclaims "poopy head" to be a bad word, and then proceeds to repeat the phrase while cackling gleefully.

..saving the My Little Pony figurine from a certain death in the bathtub despite repeated attempts from your child to drown it.

..biting your tongue when she decides you are the bad parent and attests her desire to be with the good parent while you "go away, Mommy!"

..re-tracing every circle and square in different colors ad nauseum only because she wants it done.

..allowing ONE MORE episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse if it will mean a more peaceful bedtime. (It never does.)

..saving your snark when she calls you by your first name, especially when she knows it will make you upset.

..staring at the office clock every day as it inches to 5PM, anxious to go get her so you can do it all again tonight.

So what if Preschool doesn't give grades? I STILL got an F!

I guess the three year old room can be called preschool. I guess. I've never really asked, although I'm sure if I did, the word Montessori would uttered to confirm the entire theory of whether or not I can call my child's day academic or "daycare". (My checkbook just quivered a bit at the thought of Montessori.) (So did my account balance.)

Sprite has "homework" in this class. Of course, it's nothing too difficult, a "library book" to be borrowed and returned by the end of the week with a book report complete with the student's illustrations. ("Yes, Sprite, that kitty cat did resemble a purple circle. Good for you!") And, you know it, the letter of the week as interpreted by whatever object you can find in your home that will fit into your kid's cubby to be produced for exactly five seconds before being banished to the dark space until you come to schlep it back home. (The letter this week was "Dd". I literally stole one of Sprite's scribbles and wrote "Sprite's Drawing" on it. I can't wait until the letter of the week is "Hh". What could best represent "half-assed"?)

Early last week, while rummaging through Sprite's folder for artwork, letters home, those  annoying Scholastic flyers, (Which I actually bought something from! I know! Sprite has been saying "Pinkalicious" for the past couple of weeks and I found out it was due to a book they read in her class and not just a personality quirk. I found the book at Barnes and Noble, and while finding it adorable and fun to read, the first time, I couldn't see spending almost twenty bucks on it. I may have screamed at the price, my memory is a little fuzzy... So, when I saw the offer to buy "Pinkalicious" and it's successor "Purplelicious" for a grand total of $6.00 for both from Scholastic? I took it.)(I'm a sucker.) and whatnot, I found a cutout shape of a house. Paperclipped to the stiff paper was an instruction sheet to build a photo collage of our family to glue to the house shape.

I also noticed the due date of 1/22/10, almost 2 weeks away, and thought, I have time. (Anyone's arms tingling with forewarning? Or are you just cold?)

Fast forward to 1/21/10 and a reminder sent home on Sprite's daily sheet to slap me with "Don't forget! Family photo collages are due tomorrow!"

Damn it.

I decided I would have John look for some expendable pictures of Sprite and us that evening that I could take a pair of scissors to since it was too late to order some up on Snapfish. (So THAT'S why you buy a photo copier! Stupid digital age technology and its companion pieces that we don't have.) I found the house piece perched on our counter where I had placed it in forgetful "I'll get to it later" fashion and waited for John to come home so I could make him do Sprite's homework.

John called. He had to work late.

Damn it.

10PM, he strolled through the front door to find me in bed, playing with the blog. (What? I didn't know where the "expendable" pictures were! It's not like I could prep anything, right?) Like a disobedient student waiting until the 11th hour before having to hand in a science project complete with display board in single space 13' size font glory and I hadn't even started the THESIS, I asked him to find me some family photos STAT.

"Why?"

Oh yeah, he would have to know what it's for, right? I had neglected to tell him.

Damn it.

"So don't turn it in tomorrow." He shrugged his shoulders. "It's just a photo project."

I thought back to those years in school when I knew the assignment wasn't nearly ready and I had precious seconds to decide whether or not to turn in the work "as was" or face a possible donut for claiming to forget it when I had been stressing over it for hours. I always turned it in when due, no matter what, and worked feverishly to polish what could only be described as drek before it was time to hand over my failure.

"No. Let's just find a picture of you and her and one of me and her and tape it to the paper. I'm sure that's what everyone else is doing."

Since we had no loose pictures laying about, I resorted to stealing two photos right from their frames in our bedroom, telling myself over and over that this would not be the worst one in the bunch.

*********************

It was the worst one in the bunch.

Three had already been placed on the teacher's table when I walked in with Sprite. I stole a look at the artwork some parents had shown, exacto-knifing cut outs of their little cuties into an adorable array of "Look at Junior at Disney World!" and "Isn't little Mary the absolute cutest in her cowboy hats and boots while posing beside the tree and reading a book?" (Remember, these are three year olds. Their "reading a book" is more akin to "Who's that? What's that? What color is that? The end. Read it again!") and even "Here's little Johnny meeting the starting line up of the Dolphins!". I had to stop looking. And start explaining.

"Oh, ours is so bad. You see, John was out of town all last week and I didn't have time to-"

"It's okay," the teacher smiled, picking our sparsely adorned collage and giving it attention. (Look away! Look away!) "This is fine."

Her quick reassurance bolstered my ego only briefly, the incoming works of art, each more colorful than the last replacing the gratitude with guilt. Oy.

The guilt weighed on me throughout my workday, creating an internal struggle of whether or not I should steal back our first attempt, giving myself the weekend to make it right or at least better. (I could photoshop Sprite into a few pictures and try to convince the teachers that Sprite hosted SNL alongside musical guest Gwen Stefani, right?) I finally let it go, hoping we wouldn't see the collages again until they were placed in the kids' folders to bring them back home.

So it turns out February is Family Month. Yes, the photo collage was placed with the others on the outside wall of the classroom, available for the entire school to see how much we loved our children as sponsored by Kodak. Thankfully, the teacher placed the pieces just so that other more finished collages filled the acres of dead space on ours.

I can't wait for February to be over.

Damn it.

Spin Cycle: It's time to confess!

You know you did it. Whatever it is, it can't be THAT bad! Just Spin it up, spit it out, and send it here! All will be forgiven!

Suzicate over at The Water Witch's Daughter is forgiven!

 

Meowmie over at Meowmie's Weblog -Updated Wednesday! Forgiven!

 

Maureen over at IslandRoar -Updated Wednesday! Forgiven!

 

Jan over at Jan's Sushi Bar -Updated Wednesday! Forgiven!

 

Gretchen over at Second Blooming -Updated Wednesday! In video! Forgiven!

 

Bano over at Bano Bits -Updated Wednesday! Forgiven!

 

Peg over at Square Peg in a Round Hole -Updated Wednesday! Forgiven!

 

Stacy over at Stacy's Random Thoughts -Updated Thursday! Forgiven!

 

Erin over at The Locals Love It -Updated Thursday!

 

Jenboglass over at Steenky Bee -Updated Thursday! Forgiven!

 

Pines Lake Redhead over at Pines Lake Redhead -Updated Thursday! Forgiven!

 

Michele over at It's A Dog's Life -Updated Thursday! Forgiven!

Do you need a little forgiveness in your life?

RTT: Neurotic much?

Side effect of living in Florida: If you don't know when to expect the sonic boom of a returning shuttle, get ready to call your errand running husband in a state of panic and proceed to convince him that someone is trying to break into your house through THE WALL. (Which will begin a thought process all its own on why the obviously less than stellar burglar isn't trying for a door or window since they, you know, OPEN without the aide of a heavy blunt object.) Rushing him home does get you your Dairy Queen mini-Blizzard a lot quicker, but makes you a little less credible.

On a related note, reading status updates will put the damaged stucco theories to rest when people rush to be first in their "I heard the sonic boom!" thoughts. Nice to know Facebook is good for something.

Another kind of related note: Facebook has prompts to remind you of' "friend's" birthdays. While this is a nice way to make you look a lot better for remembering to wish someone a happy cake day, it also shows you how many people you really don't know. I wished five different people a good one over the last few days and I had to check their mutual friends list to see where I knew them from, be it high school, my days at Universal Studios, or family connections, real or Keeper. It kind of makes me wonder if the honoree looks at the endless list of well wishers and wonders who half these people are and whether or not he or she needs to weed out their contacts a little more closely.

Northerners need to skip this next thought.

The wave of cool weather which invaded Florida was wonderful and made us long (crazy, I know) for the days of summer when our fingers are more used to gripping objects tightly since sweat will make things slip out rather than a stronghold due to lack of feeling. However, those cold snaps are becoming fewer and more far between as Mother Nature reminds us of exactly why Florida is America's wang. (Simpsons quote. And not the first time I've used it either. Can you tell where MY mind goes?) Yesterday signaled a warming trend and the collective yawns of AC units across the South Florida bend as people began to remember that oh, yes! the sun will tend to warm things up when left to its own devices. Our AC unit woke up with the rest of them, but failed to cool down our home, which led to John stalking the thermostat. Finally, he came to the realization that something was not working with it, the something being the AC unit. 

Our AC unit has decided that a condensor is no longer necessary in its day to day operations. (If you're from the North and still digging out your driveway, I did warn you. Flaming comments will be ignored.) When this happens, it's common to replace the entire unit. Anyone know how much AC units cost? Anyone know how much AC units, while expensive, are needed EVEN IN FEBRUARY?? Apparently, I didn't either. I promise, my mouth will eventually shut on its own. The shock hasn't worn off yet. But we're in business again, so at least we'll keep cool.

Sprite was feeling a little under the weather Sunday so we cancelled our plans for an across state trek to her cousin's 1st birthday party (too bad since I can't keep Sprite from "testing" out the toy and now have to wait until the next opportunity to unload the merchandise) and instead took the lazy route and stayed in all day for toys and movies. Sick of requests for Mulan and Madagascar, (she's on an "M" kick) we introduced her to old Disney classics like "Make Mine Music" and "Melody Time". Remember those old tunes "Johnny Appleseed" and "Johnny Fedora and Alice Bluebonnet"? How about "Little Toot"? Freakin' awesome trip down Memory Lane. Even Sprite didn't complain about the lack of trendy catch phrases as she sat for these relics and actually asked for them again yesterday. Of course, this new little phase will probably not last long since The Princess and the Frog DVD is set to release next month and my little Tiana fan will want to see Prince Naveen again. And again. And you know where this goes.

I've been seeing way too many cute babies across the blogosphere lately, so I'm needing a little fix:

This picture was taken when Sprite was 4 months old. I've always been a sucker for a big smile and squinty eyes. That's how her father hooked me, you know..

You know who else hooked me? Keely over at The Un Mom. Go over and see why. Just read carefully. She's addictive.

The rules that come with the game are more of a suggestion anyway..

The alternate rules of Candy Lane as read by Sprite: (these rules are a bit suspicious seeing as Sprite is 3 and cannot read yet, but one of the atlernate rules is that these rules cannot be questioned)

Only one person is allowed to hold all the cards. Other players actually getting a card will be at the discretion of the card holder.

The cards must be placed with the colored blocks showing. I can see the pros of this rule. How else would you pick the card you need to advance the most on the board?

Of course, this rule would best help if you are actually allowed to use the markers associated with the game, however for this particular night's playtime, the markers have been outlawed since none of them are "pink".

Thus, the game turns into more of a "fifty-two card pick up", the winner being the one able to convince the others that THEY are the ones to do the actual picking up.

 Yeah, the rules kind of suck, but with that face?

I play her way every time.
 
 

Spin Cycle: I'm now a walking infomercial without the corny forehead slaps.

I have a kid. (You probably knew that.)

Before the kid, I had dogs. (No breaking news there either.)

I'm not going to lie to you and proclaim them to be perfect animals who were so trained, they rang a bell to signal their need for the outdoors. While I wish they would let me know more often other than the annoying clink of their water bowl when Blue finds it empty then proceeds to paw it until the ceramic comes up and then back down on the floor, an audible cue for "Woman, I'm parched!", they're just not that smart. (Both John and I hate that sound and even Sprite has chimed in with "The dogs want water!" since the sound interferes with her Mickey Mouse Clubhouse viewing.) (Maybe I should make it a chore for Sprite?) (But she'd probably spill while filling up the bowl. Nope, better just to kvetch and fetch for now.)

In any given week, we will find a wet spot near the dining room table where Harry decided he could wait no longer for us to get off our duffs and get him out the door or a wet spot in the carpet which we won't find until one of us steps in it, a sure sign that Blue has been there. We spot treat and blot with the best of them, but come on, people. You must know what my carpets look like. I can no longer try to convince others that it's an offbeat pattern that I found at Home Depot, nor can I blame it on the child who is now verbal enough to deny accusations of tinkle trickery.

Things finally came to a head (or tail since most of our problem seem to originate from that area) when I began noticing a certain smell in our bedroom. You see, the dogs like to camp out underneath our bed at night (it DOES make for a bitching tent), and dogs being the way they are, don't like to pee where they sleep, so they prefer to pee underneath where WE sleep. I finally begged John to get a service to come steam clean our carpets.

He did one better. He got a Hoover Steamvac. (The silver kind.) For about ten bucks less than a professional would charge for our house, we were now the owners of a steam cleaner.

But did it work?

I was at work when he brought it home, promising to figure the sucker out for me. I may have called him ten times while he was setting everything up since I was reading product reviews and gleaning off of other people's tips as I found them.

"Jen, let me try it and then I'll call you back." That was John Speak for "Call one more time and I turn on WoW and forget I just spent $140.00."

Twenty minutes later, he called me.

"Can you come home now? You won't believe it!"

He did half the hallway carpet so I could see the before and after and then all of Sprite's room since both she and the dogs had done whatever they could to destroy it.

Why yes, my carpets ARE tan, not gray. But now we can prove it! (The rest of it was cleaned after I put the camera away. And it ALL looks good.)

I love the look of track marks. (The GOOD kind.)

By the time I got home, he was sitting at his computer as if nothing had happened, while I exclaimed over the newness that was our carpets. (Seriously, I get excited over the strangest things.)

Come Saturday, we put the steam cleaner to the toughest test, under our bed.

John was as excited about taking apart the bed as he would be for a physical, so he chose to take the harder route by pushing the bed to one side of the room and then the other (adding a good half hour to the process).

Tangent: Anyone who has trellis art like this on their walls knows by now that you need to vacuum these things at least once in your lifetime. I hate trellis art if only for the fact that they are dust magnets.

Yup, that's what you think it is. Blue's calling card. Embarrassing, no? (That would be yes.) But this is the before.

And after! No more! All gone! (Insert bleached toothy smile here)

We were able to finish the entire room and get all the furniture moved back within a few hours. And the smell? What smell?

I'm sold. I never thought home cleaners would ever work as well as the pros or the rentals, but we were able to do it ourselves and get it done to our satisfaction without having to block off our entire day, move mountains of furniture for some stranger to come into our home and run a hose through our living room, and then deal with wet floors for the next 12-24 hours.

Sure, I could live without my Hoover, but it would be nicer to smell the roses without smelling the dogs who just peed on them. 

Now all this infomercial needs is a catch phrase. How about, "With the power of Hoover steam, even your carpets will gleam!"

There's a reason I'm not in advertising..

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Take a look and see what these Spinners consider a "must have"!

Maureen over at IslandRoar

Bano over at Bano Bits

Heather over at Welch Happenings  

Suzicate over at The Water Witch's Daughter 

Pines Lake Redhead over at Pines Lake Redhead 

Laufa over at Morgan Madness 

Camille over at Archives of Our Lives 

Heidi over at The World According to Heidi 

Ruby over at Ruby's Looking Glass -Updated Friday! Fresh Spin!

Mama Badger over at Out of the Boondocks and Into the Burbs... -Updated Friday! Fresh Spin!

Vandy over at The Testosterone Three and Me -Updated Friday! Fresh Spin!

The South Dakota Cowgirl over at The South Dakota Cowgirl -Updated Friday! Fresh Spin!

Jamie over at Picking Battles and Noses -Updated Friday! Fresh Spin! New to the Spin Cycle!

Erin over at The Locals Love It -Updated Friday! Fresh Spin!

Patty over at Pancakes Gone Awry -Updated Friday! Fresh Spin!

Kendra over at Life in The Slow Lane -Updated Friday! Fresh Spin!

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Next week's Spin Assignment: Confessions/ Admissions

That's right, one of our first Spin Cycle topics is back! Well, it's been a year and a half, surely you've got some fresh stuff to confess by now!

What's weighing on your mind? Got a secret you just want to get off your chest? Let go of that luggage here!

Have you called someone by the wrong name for years only to find out their actual name was nowhere close to who you thought they were?

Have you fought for one point even knowing you were wrong?

(Both of these examples may have happened to me..)

Spin it up and unload the guilt!

See you next week on the Spin Cycle!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Next time I want a souvenir, I'll buy the t-shirt.

Super Bowl Sunday:

"Which team are we rooting for, John?"

"The Saints. They're Harry's team."

"Um, okay. Why is that so important?"

"Because his show is Thursday. If the Saints win, he'll give a better show."

"Good point. Go Saints."

****

You know who (dat) won.

Harry Connick Jr. even made mention of it himself during the show that he was in a great mood due to his team taking the game and bringing home the title. Mardi Gras had begun early for New Orleans.

It was a wonderful concert, peppered with songs and jam sessions, and even an encore in which half the song was played on his knees or the piano's pedals or any reverberating surface OTHER than the keys which frankly wowed John into a stunned silent smile. (If respect had levels, John's top-most spot would be reserved for musicians. He thinks they're made of magic.)

I wanted to tell you about the thrill of listening to him live, or chuckling along with his humorous take on other celebrities and himself, but no. I am going to tell you about how I almost got us kicked out of the concert before it even began.

John and I were just settling into our seats, Row BB, (balcony, front) (good seats, but difficult for those who are elevation-ally challenged. Shut up Spell-check.) and watching the rows begin to fill up around us. I wanted a picture of us to commemorate our evening, so I called upon an elderly usher and handed over my camera.

He stammered out, "I'll take your picture, but you're not allowed to take pictures of the show, so you need to put your camera away immediately."

I smiled. "Of course. I just wanted a photo of my husband and me."

He snapped the picture, passed the camera back to me, and I obediently slipped it back into its case and into my purse where I then zipped the main compartment up, so as to ASSURE the attendant I was follow directions.

He left us and John and I resumed discussing the possible playlist we would be listening to. Just then, a security guard, the only reason one could call him "security" was because his shirt said so, came bounding down the steps and halted at our row.

He leaned over John to address me. "I saw what you did."

My eyes widened in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"I saw your camera flash. Don't tell me that wasn't you."

"Well, yes, but I-"

"You are NOT ALLOWED to take pictures in the theatre! If I see it again, I will take it." He paused, waiting for me to acknowledge his words.

Was he serious? I had heard the intermiitent announcements prohibiting pictures and videos, but the house lights were still up! The curtain was still down! The show hadn't even started yet, was a good ten minutes out, and other people around us were gathering around their cell phones for group shots of themselves, just as we had done.

"I don't think you understand. I-"

"I caught you. Don't even tell me you didn't take a picture."

I caught John's image in my peripheral as he slunk lower into his chair, not wanting to be a part of this misunderstanding, one he knew I would escalate with my insatiable need to make the truth known, no matter how loud I or the recent high school graduate had to get.

"Sir, I was just taking a picture of my husband and myself-"

"No photography! I'm watching you."

He then turned and trounced off, triumphant in having the last word.

My mouth still open with the objection I hadn't been able to express, I looked at John. "Can you believe-"

"Let it go, Jen."

Don't ever let it be said that I don't listen to John. I shook off the shock and reigned in the rage so we could just enjoy the remainder of our evening, which hadn't even started yet.

A few minutes later, the curtain came up, Harry walked out, and the show began. Of course, from time to time, flashes went off around us, none from me as my camera was safely tucked inside my purse where I had placed it after the usher had given it back in the first place.

Even with the house lights out, I could see the security team standing along the walls, and feeling someone's eyes on me, I made out the dim figure of the cop who had busted me.

He was watching me. He lifted two fingers to his eyes and then pointed them at me. I'm watching you.

Jerk.

The picture that almost got us evicted. Careful or I'll sick my red-eye on you...

(Come to think of it, John and I were able to count on one hand the number of people YOUNGER than us at the show since the type of music being performed was aimed at a more mature crowd like retirees.What did Harry need with a security team anyway?)
 

Spin Cycle: "...And I can't live without it!"

We're starting the round up on a Wednesday!

Maureen over at IslandRoar

Bano over at Bano Bits

Heather over at Welch Happenings

-Updated Thursday!

Suzicate over at The Water Witch's Daughter -Updated Thursday!

Pines Lake Redhead over at Pines Lake Redhead -Updated Thursday!

Laufa over at Morgan Madness -Updated Thursday!

Camille over at Archives of Our Lives -Updated Thursday!

Heidi over at The World According to Heidi -Updated Thursday!

What can't YOU live without? What makes your life easier? What product do you use that just blows your mind?

Spin it up by Friday to get in on this consumerism lovefest!

I may have to invest in snow just to get some use out of them.

"This is John."

"Hi!"

"Hey, Jen."

"Guess what?"

"What?"

"I just found out I won mittens!"

"You what?"

"I won."

"Won what?"

"Mittens."

"Why would you want mittens?"

"Because I don't have any?"

"Do I have to tell you where we live?"

"Anyway, I won them from a dumbass."

"From a what?"

"You need a new phone. I said a dumbass."

"....A dumbass. Like the captain variety?"

"Good for you! You pay attention!"

"So Captain Dumbass had a contest, huh? How is he doing anyway?"

"Pregnant."

"...I don't have time to get into that one."

"So, yeah, I just wanted to let you know I won mittens. They should be coming around the same time as my Starbucks card."

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"I won a Starbucks card on Jessica's blog."

"But didn't you also win a football platter like last month?"

"Yep, just in time for Super Bowl. Good times, good times.."

"Jen, you need to stop entering contests."

"Why?"

"Because you're confusing the hell out of the UPS guy."

"Call it job security."

"What are you going to do with mittens?"

"I don't know, but once I figure it out, I'll be glad I have them, right?"

"...I have to go."