... For this important News Bulletin.
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THE GREATER METRO, SOMEWHERE IN THE U.S. - Alleged "Blogger" Thimbelle today announced that her daughter, The Twinkie, had indeed survived a freak accident on Wednesday evening.
The accident, which occurred within the home, resulted in a five-hour "visit" to a local emergency room, during which multiple X-Rays were taken, and multiple medical personnel examined the patient.
The Twinkie (also known as "Twinks" in the Blogging Community) is recuperating at home, and is expected to make a full recovery, but only after she has run both of her parents ragged.
Twinks injuries included multiple bruises, a sprained back, and whiplash.
Thimbelle stated that she "will indeed be blogging about this whole little episode". Insiders believe that this may occur later this summer, after her current "vacation" series has concluded.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled Blog reading.
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Friday, June 30, 2006
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Summer Vacation: Day 3, "We made it!"
We started our vacation here. Then there was Day 2.
And now, here we are. It's Day 3, and if all goes well, we will eat dinner at my Mom's new "house" (actually it's an apartment, but you know what I mean). We are still about 500 miles away; we get another early start after a healthy breakfast.
After about 90 minutes we stop for a break, as is our custom; today we are all Interstate highways and toll roads, so there are plenty of places along the way to take a break. We stretch our legs, use the bathroom, climb back into the minivan, and pull out on to the Interstate. Less than 5 miles later we come to a full and complete stop.
Traffic on the other side of the road is zooming along, but here on our side, we are at a standstill. I have nightmare visions of the traffic coming up behind us at full speed and simply plowing right into the back of us. I keep a healthy distance between my front bumper and the back bumper of the truck ahead of us. We are in the left lane; there is no way to move over, as the right lane is now solidly packed with vehicles also. In just a few minutes we are surrounded by cars and trucks - a two lane parking lot that stretches as far as I can see in both directions. Every now and again, we inch forward a bit; after a little while Twinks and I have named most of the people in the vehicles around us. The older couple in the big Crown Vic are "Gramma and Grampa". There is a Smith family (in the minivan nearly identical to ours) and the Jones family (in another minivan) There is Speedy McSpeedster, a rather vain young man in a convertible who spends much of his time admiring the reflection in all of his rear-view mirrors, as well as the mirror attached to the sun visor. We all crawl forward together; in thirty minutes we have gone somewhere around 7 miles.
Finally, we come to the scene of the accident that has caused this traffic jam. Twinks looks away; I do not have that luxury. There is a pickup truck that had been pulling a travel trailer; The travel trailer has had the skin peeled away from the drivers side, and you can see into the trailer. It is listing heavily towards the pavement. There are personal belongings and large pieces of sheet metal strewn everywhere. The pickup is damaged, but upright. There is another vehicle, crumpled beyond recognition, off on the right side of the road. It seems as though the ambulances must have come and gone already, because the only people milling about are firemen and Highway Patrol officers. As soon as we pass the scene, the traffic speeds up, and we are running at 70 mph again.
I wondered then - if we had not stopped for our little break just when we did, might we have somehow been tangled up in that mess? I prayed for the families that were involved, hoped that no one had been seriously injured or killed. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel a little bit harder, and encouraged Twinks to keep her seat belt snug. I thanked God again for our safe passage, and we motored on through the bright morning, growing more eager to see my Mom with every mile that passed.
We waited to have our lunch until after 1:00 pm; we hoped we could make a bit of the time we lost back at the wreck, and that the lunch rush would be over if we waited. As we rolled southward through Florida, we debated the relative merits of several different options before deciding we would stop at the next exit.
We took the exit, and decided on the spur of the moment to grab something to go, and get back on the road. Twinks navigation showed that we were now only about three hours from Mom's; so we stretched our legs a bit, used the bathroom, ordered our food to go, and went back to the minivan.
We pulled back onto the Interstate, and not long after, I began to worry that there was something wrong with the minivan. The van is not old - it is a 2002 model - but it has had an enormous number of miles put on it since we purchased it. Currently, the mileage reads just a bit more than double the normal mileage for a van of it's age. All of those trips to Hospital City have really racked up the miles, and while The Wrench does a great job of making sure the van is ready for road trips, there is simply no way to predict when a component might decide it's time to go.
Apparently, this time, several of those components decided to go on strike at about the same time. Who knows? Maybe they decided they wanted a vacation of their own...
I had Twinks grab the cell, and she dialed up The Wrench for me. After a rather tense conversation via the speakerphone, he convinced me to get off the highway, and find someone to look at the van. NOW. He didn't want us to go any further until someone checked things out.
Luckily, we were driving through a nice little city, and took the next exit. And, luckily the guys at the tire store that was right off of that exit were very nice. We limped in at 3:00 pm, on a Saturday afternoon, and in just a bit more than two hours, they changed the front and rear brakes, drained the tranny fluid (it was way overdue, and the thing was up in the air on the rack anyway) changed the tranny filter, and also balanced, then rotated the tires. The guy working the counter was originally from The Greater Metro, and he did his best to make us comfortable in the somewhat limited waiting room. Even though the store was supposed to close at 5:00 pm, they entire crew pitched in to help get the work done on our van, so that we didn't have to spend the night. It was 5:30 when they took the van out to test drive it; they refused my thanks, saying that it was their job to take care of their customers. My budget took an unexpected $600 hit, but the van was infinitely safer. (It also didn't make that buh-buh-buh noise anymore, and shake so terribly...) By the time we were done at the tire store, and back in the van, it was 6:00 pm. Twinks and I were both crushed - we were still more than two-and-one-half hours away from Mom's house, and the sun was rapidly sinking towards the western horizon.
Mom, of course, was just glad to know that we would be safe, and that we had gotten the van fixed. There was a Steak-N-Shake right next door, so we drove through and picked up another meal to go. We hit the Interstate again, determined to get to Mom's as quickly (but safely!) as we could.
We passed through Orlando, and Twinks averted her eyes again - but this time so that she wouldn't see the Magical Exit to the Magic Kingdom. There was much sighing and there might have even been a tear or two shed, however I could not be swayed. We stopped one last time, on the Florida Turnpike. Twinks found a "smashed penny" machine, and added several nice specimens to her substantial collection.
Finally, finally, finally, we are off of the Turnpike, and on the little state highway that runs alongside their retirement complex. We tiptoe through several miles of construction, and just as darkness falls, we pull in to the main driveway of the "Village". We have to stop at the Guard House, and get our parking pass. The guard calls Moms apartment, to announce that we have arrived. (No sneaking up on anyone here - too many pacemakers, I presume.) We glide quietly and serenely at the posted 20 mph speed limit through the darkening streets of the "Village" until we arrive at our designated parking lot.
And suddenly, there is my Mom, standing there in the warm, Florida night, with The Stepdad next to her.
She looks so frail. She is pale, and leaning on a cane - a cane! Why does she have the cane? And then she smiles into the headlights, and it doesn't matter, because I am home.
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Twinks is grabbing at her seat belt, trying to roll down the window, and bail out of the minivan all at the same time. I stop the van, and tell her to "Go!" and she is out the door, and running across the asphalt before I can say the word twice. She flies first to my Mom, and with a sob she hugs her beloved Grandma tightly. Mom kisses Twinks on the top of her head, and then Twinks to Grandpa, to kiss and hug him. I slide the van into the appointed Visitor space, throw it into Park, and hop out to find my Mom standing next to the van. We hug for a long time, both of us babbling and crying at the same time. The Stepdad finally gently suggests that we go upstairs to their apartment for a little while, and then later he will help Twinks and I unload the van.
The building that they live in is safe and secure. There are elevators and hand-rails. There are charming little nooks built into the hallways where charming little chairs and benches await those too weary to continue down the hall without a little rest. Everything is well-lit, and the doorways and hallways are wide, to accommodate the many, many, many citizens of "The Village" who careen about on their little battery-powered scooters.
We take the elevator to the top floor, and in just a few steps we are at the door to their "apartment"... It is a shock to see these familiar things in such an alien environment; my mother is as Twinks and I are - a child of the wind and the light, born on the open prairies - and I cannot imagine her in this dark and claustrophobic place. I try to remember that it is night time now, and that perhaps in the daylight, it will not be so depressing.
We sit for a few minutes in the living room. The furniture is the same, but the room is tiny, and everything is crammed in. I call The Wrench to tell him we made it safely; he chats with Mom for a few minutes. She smiles, and her face lights up as they banter back and forth - The Wrench is the only guy I ever dated who my Mom really liked. To this day, she tells people that she gave birth to me so that 26 years later she could get him as her son. He adores her as well, and left unattended, they would chatter non-stop for hours. I promise The Wrench that I will call again later, before bed, and we hang up. Twinks runs from room to room, making sure that everything is there. She finishes her tour of inspection by making sure that her Toy Drawer is still in the dining room console, as it has been since she was a baby. She happily digs through her "treasures" that she leaves with Grandma, marveling over every item as though she hasn't seen it in years. I sense that Mom has something to tell me, but she is hesitating, waiting for The Stepdad to leave the room.
Finally, The Stepdad calls down to the guard house, to have the keys and paperwork for the guest apartment brought up. He and Twinks decide to stretch their legs, and they walk down to meet the guard on the edge of the parking lot.
It is then that my Mom tells me that there is "something wrong" with her. That she has spent the last week going to different doctors and having all of these tests done. That yesterday, her primary care doctor had called to tell her that there was "something suspicious" on both sides of her mammogram, and she would have to come back in.
And then the doctor asked Mom when she had suffered her strokes.
Mom didn't even *know* that she had had one stroke, let alone four "major" ones. The doctor said that the CATscan showed she had also had "innumerable" "little events".
And then Mom began to cry. I held her, and realized that our lives were beginning to turn. That I am now going to be the one who takes charge, and takes care of things. That for the first time I can ever remember, my Mom *needs* me.
I was just numb. My mind kept trying to process all of this. How could we cope with this? She lives 1300 miles away as the crow flies, and I am only supposed to be here for five days, a week at the most. Cancer? Strokes? Does this town even have specialists good enough? Who do I know here - and how can I ever leave here, knowing she is sick? Finally, I am able to form words, and asked her if The Stepdad knew everything that she just told me. She nodded "yes", and I asked her when she was supposed to go back to the doctor.
Just then, we heard The Stepdad and Twinks chattering in the hallway, so Mom quickly dried her tears, and I had to wait for the answer. The Stepdad and Twinks were eager to go see the guest apartment that we would be living in for the duration of our visit, so Mom struggled to her feet, and we all went back to the elevator.
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The guest apartment was down one floor, and halfway down the hall in the opposite direction. The layout was quite different from Mom's apartment upstairs; compact, but very nice.
Upon opening the door, there is a tiny vestibule; on the left is the "utility closet". On the right is a compact kitchen: a full size fridge, small sink, and a narrow 20 inch stove, with a microwave/hood. The kitchen is completely furnished, right down to the teapot and toaster. There is no food, however a trip to Publix will remedy that. Mostly for Diet Coke & snacks - we will take many of our meals in the Dining Rooms downstairs.
The living room/dining room is large and spacious, and there is an actual "Florida Room" at the far end. The bedroom has two twin beds, with a table in between and a large dresser. The bathroom is at the end of a small hallway that starts in the bedroom. On either side of that "hallway" is a huge walk-in closet. There is no tub in the bathroom, only a walk-in shower. The toilet is so powerful that small dogs and little children should be kept at bay when flushing lest they be sucked in; the thing sounds like a jet engine.
Everything is scrupulously clean and tidy. There are soft, fluffy towels in the bathroom, and clean cotton sheets on the bed. There are piles of clean linens on the shelves in one of the big closets. There is a huge 25" TV in the living room, and a smaller TV in the bedroom. There are telephones, however, they can only dial within "The Village"; luckily my cellphone is well-stocked with Rollover Minutes.
The Stepdad and I go downstairs one last time this evening to bring up our cases. Twinks comes along, proud of the fact that she has her own set of keys for the guest apartment. She helps carry her bag, and she chatters non-stop with Grandpa as we carry things inside and go back up in the elevator.
Finally, we are in for the night. Mom is visibly tired, and so Twinks and I lock up the apartment, and walk with them back to the elevators. We go upstairs again, and I am struck once more by how small their apartment is, how cramped. As Mom changes into her pajamas in the dressing room, Twinks and I sit on her bed, and we talk - the three of us reluctant to part company now. Mom climbs into bed, and Twinks sits at her feet, while I sit on the floor. We talk quietly so that we don't disturb The Stepdad in the next room. We talk about nothing and everything. We laugh, and because we are tired, and relieved to be together again, we become silly. Everything becomes funny, and soon we are laughing so hard we are crying.
It is a relief; an emotional escape valve that lets off a bit of the pressure. Gasping with laughter, and mopping up our tears, we finally say goodnight, and go back to our guest apartment. It is the first time I have ever visited my mother, and not slept in her home. It is an odd, disconnected feeling, even though I know we are in the same building, we are not in her "house".
We unpack enough to get Twinks into bed, and after she falls asleep, I call The Wrench. I tell him what little I know of Mom's medical problems.
We cry together, on the phone. I miss him more than ever.
Certain I will never be able to sleep, I lay down on the bed. All too soon, it is morning, and time to get up. Twinks and I hurry to meet Mom and The Stepdad upstairs in their apartment for breakfast...
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Next, The Chronicles of Florida. Complete with a Witch, a wardrobe, and a Liar.
And now, here we are. It's Day 3, and if all goes well, we will eat dinner at my Mom's new "house" (actually it's an apartment, but you know what I mean). We are still about 500 miles away; we get another early start after a healthy breakfast.
After about 90 minutes we stop for a break, as is our custom; today we are all Interstate highways and toll roads, so there are plenty of places along the way to take a break. We stretch our legs, use the bathroom, climb back into the minivan, and pull out on to the Interstate. Less than 5 miles later we come to a full and complete stop.
Traffic on the other side of the road is zooming along, but here on our side, we are at a standstill. I have nightmare visions of the traffic coming up behind us at full speed and simply plowing right into the back of us. I keep a healthy distance between my front bumper and the back bumper of the truck ahead of us. We are in the left lane; there is no way to move over, as the right lane is now solidly packed with vehicles also. In just a few minutes we are surrounded by cars and trucks - a two lane parking lot that stretches as far as I can see in both directions. Every now and again, we inch forward a bit; after a little while Twinks and I have named most of the people in the vehicles around us. The older couple in the big Crown Vic are "Gramma and Grampa". There is a Smith family (in the minivan nearly identical to ours) and the Jones family (in another minivan) There is Speedy McSpeedster, a rather vain young man in a convertible who spends much of his time admiring the reflection in all of his rear-view mirrors, as well as the mirror attached to the sun visor. We all crawl forward together; in thirty minutes we have gone somewhere around 7 miles.
Finally, we come to the scene of the accident that has caused this traffic jam. Twinks looks away; I do not have that luxury. There is a pickup truck that had been pulling a travel trailer; The travel trailer has had the skin peeled away from the drivers side, and you can see into the trailer. It is listing heavily towards the pavement. There are personal belongings and large pieces of sheet metal strewn everywhere. The pickup is damaged, but upright. There is another vehicle, crumpled beyond recognition, off on the right side of the road. It seems as though the ambulances must have come and gone already, because the only people milling about are firemen and Highway Patrol officers. As soon as we pass the scene, the traffic speeds up, and we are running at 70 mph again.
I wondered then - if we had not stopped for our little break just when we did, might we have somehow been tangled up in that mess? I prayed for the families that were involved, hoped that no one had been seriously injured or killed. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel a little bit harder, and encouraged Twinks to keep her seat belt snug. I thanked God again for our safe passage, and we motored on through the bright morning, growing more eager to see my Mom with every mile that passed.
We waited to have our lunch until after 1:00 pm; we hoped we could make a bit of the time we lost back at the wreck, and that the lunch rush would be over if we waited. As we rolled southward through Florida, we debated the relative merits of several different options before deciding we would stop at the next exit.
We took the exit, and decided on the spur of the moment to grab something to go, and get back on the road. Twinks navigation showed that we were now only about three hours from Mom's; so we stretched our legs a bit, used the bathroom, ordered our food to go, and went back to the minivan.
We pulled back onto the Interstate, and not long after, I began to worry that there was something wrong with the minivan. The van is not old - it is a 2002 model - but it has had an enormous number of miles put on it since we purchased it. Currently, the mileage reads just a bit more than double the normal mileage for a van of it's age. All of those trips to Hospital City have really racked up the miles, and while The Wrench does a great job of making sure the van is ready for road trips, there is simply no way to predict when a component might decide it's time to go.
Apparently, this time, several of those components decided to go on strike at about the same time. Who knows? Maybe they decided they wanted a vacation of their own...
I had Twinks grab the cell, and she dialed up The Wrench for me. After a rather tense conversation via the speakerphone, he convinced me to get off the highway, and find someone to look at the van. NOW. He didn't want us to go any further until someone checked things out.
Luckily, we were driving through a nice little city, and took the next exit. And, luckily the guys at the tire store that was right off of that exit were very nice. We limped in at 3:00 pm, on a Saturday afternoon, and in just a bit more than two hours, they changed the front and rear brakes, drained the tranny fluid (it was way overdue, and the thing was up in the air on the rack anyway) changed the tranny filter, and also balanced, then rotated the tires. The guy working the counter was originally from The Greater Metro, and he did his best to make us comfortable in the somewhat limited waiting room. Even though the store was supposed to close at 5:00 pm, they entire crew pitched in to help get the work done on our van, so that we didn't have to spend the night. It was 5:30 when they took the van out to test drive it; they refused my thanks, saying that it was their job to take care of their customers. My budget took an unexpected $600 hit, but the van was infinitely safer. (It also didn't make that buh-buh-buh noise anymore, and shake so terribly...) By the time we were done at the tire store, and back in the van, it was 6:00 pm. Twinks and I were both crushed - we were still more than two-and-one-half hours away from Mom's house, and the sun was rapidly sinking towards the western horizon.
Mom, of course, was just glad to know that we would be safe, and that we had gotten the van fixed. There was a Steak-N-Shake right next door, so we drove through and picked up another meal to go. We hit the Interstate again, determined to get to Mom's as quickly (but safely!) as we could.
We passed through Orlando, and Twinks averted her eyes again - but this time so that she wouldn't see the Magical Exit to the Magic Kingdom. There was much sighing and there might have even been a tear or two shed, however I could not be swayed. We stopped one last time, on the Florida Turnpike. Twinks found a "smashed penny" machine, and added several nice specimens to her substantial collection.
Finally, finally, finally, we are off of the Turnpike, and on the little state highway that runs alongside their retirement complex. We tiptoe through several miles of construction, and just as darkness falls, we pull in to the main driveway of the "Village". We have to stop at the Guard House, and get our parking pass. The guard calls Moms apartment, to announce that we have arrived. (No sneaking up on anyone here - too many pacemakers, I presume.) We glide quietly and serenely at the posted 20 mph speed limit through the darkening streets of the "Village" until we arrive at our designated parking lot.
And suddenly, there is my Mom, standing there in the warm, Florida night, with The Stepdad next to her.
She looks so frail. She is pale, and leaning on a cane - a cane! Why does she have the cane? And then she smiles into the headlights, and it doesn't matter, because I am home.
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Twinks is grabbing at her seat belt, trying to roll down the window, and bail out of the minivan all at the same time. I stop the van, and tell her to "Go!" and she is out the door, and running across the asphalt before I can say the word twice. She flies first to my Mom, and with a sob she hugs her beloved Grandma tightly. Mom kisses Twinks on the top of her head, and then Twinks to Grandpa, to kiss and hug him. I slide the van into the appointed Visitor space, throw it into Park, and hop out to find my Mom standing next to the van. We hug for a long time, both of us babbling and crying at the same time. The Stepdad finally gently suggests that we go upstairs to their apartment for a little while, and then later he will help Twinks and I unload the van.
The building that they live in is safe and secure. There are elevators and hand-rails. There are charming little nooks built into the hallways where charming little chairs and benches await those too weary to continue down the hall without a little rest. Everything is well-lit, and the doorways and hallways are wide, to accommodate the many, many, many citizens of "The Village" who careen about on their little battery-powered scooters.
We take the elevator to the top floor, and in just a few steps we are at the door to their "apartment"... It is a shock to see these familiar things in such an alien environment; my mother is as Twinks and I are - a child of the wind and the light, born on the open prairies - and I cannot imagine her in this dark and claustrophobic place. I try to remember that it is night time now, and that perhaps in the daylight, it will not be so depressing.
We sit for a few minutes in the living room. The furniture is the same, but the room is tiny, and everything is crammed in. I call The Wrench to tell him we made it safely; he chats with Mom for a few minutes. She smiles, and her face lights up as they banter back and forth - The Wrench is the only guy I ever dated who my Mom really liked. To this day, she tells people that she gave birth to me so that 26 years later she could get him as her son. He adores her as well, and left unattended, they would chatter non-stop for hours. I promise The Wrench that I will call again later, before bed, and we hang up. Twinks runs from room to room, making sure that everything is there. She finishes her tour of inspection by making sure that her Toy Drawer is still in the dining room console, as it has been since she was a baby. She happily digs through her "treasures" that she leaves with Grandma, marveling over every item as though she hasn't seen it in years. I sense that Mom has something to tell me, but she is hesitating, waiting for The Stepdad to leave the room.
Finally, The Stepdad calls down to the guard house, to have the keys and paperwork for the guest apartment brought up. He and Twinks decide to stretch their legs, and they walk down to meet the guard on the edge of the parking lot.
It is then that my Mom tells me that there is "something wrong" with her. That she has spent the last week going to different doctors and having all of these tests done. That yesterday, her primary care doctor had called to tell her that there was "something suspicious" on both sides of her mammogram, and she would have to come back in.
And then the doctor asked Mom when she had suffered her strokes.
Mom didn't even *know* that she had had one stroke, let alone four "major" ones. The doctor said that the CATscan showed she had also had "innumerable" "little events".
And then Mom began to cry. I held her, and realized that our lives were beginning to turn. That I am now going to be the one who takes charge, and takes care of things. That for the first time I can ever remember, my Mom *needs* me.
I was just numb. My mind kept trying to process all of this. How could we cope with this? She lives 1300 miles away as the crow flies, and I am only supposed to be here for five days, a week at the most. Cancer? Strokes? Does this town even have specialists good enough? Who do I know here - and how can I ever leave here, knowing she is sick? Finally, I am able to form words, and asked her if The Stepdad knew everything that she just told me. She nodded "yes", and I asked her when she was supposed to go back to the doctor.
Just then, we heard The Stepdad and Twinks chattering in the hallway, so Mom quickly dried her tears, and I had to wait for the answer. The Stepdad and Twinks were eager to go see the guest apartment that we would be living in for the duration of our visit, so Mom struggled to her feet, and we all went back to the elevator.
.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-.
The guest apartment was down one floor, and halfway down the hall in the opposite direction. The layout was quite different from Mom's apartment upstairs; compact, but very nice.
Upon opening the door, there is a tiny vestibule; on the left is the "utility closet". On the right is a compact kitchen: a full size fridge, small sink, and a narrow 20 inch stove, with a microwave/hood. The kitchen is completely furnished, right down to the teapot and toaster. There is no food, however a trip to Publix will remedy that. Mostly for Diet Coke & snacks - we will take many of our meals in the Dining Rooms downstairs.
The living room/dining room is large and spacious, and there is an actual "Florida Room" at the far end. The bedroom has two twin beds, with a table in between and a large dresser. The bathroom is at the end of a small hallway that starts in the bedroom. On either side of that "hallway" is a huge walk-in closet. There is no tub in the bathroom, only a walk-in shower. The toilet is so powerful that small dogs and little children should be kept at bay when flushing lest they be sucked in; the thing sounds like a jet engine.
Everything is scrupulously clean and tidy. There are soft, fluffy towels in the bathroom, and clean cotton sheets on the bed. There are piles of clean linens on the shelves in one of the big closets. There is a huge 25" TV in the living room, and a smaller TV in the bedroom. There are telephones, however, they can only dial within "The Village"; luckily my cellphone is well-stocked with Rollover Minutes.
The Stepdad and I go downstairs one last time this evening to bring up our cases. Twinks comes along, proud of the fact that she has her own set of keys for the guest apartment. She helps carry her bag, and she chatters non-stop with Grandpa as we carry things inside and go back up in the elevator.
Finally, we are in for the night. Mom is visibly tired, and so Twinks and I lock up the apartment, and walk with them back to the elevators. We go upstairs again, and I am struck once more by how small their apartment is, how cramped. As Mom changes into her pajamas in the dressing room, Twinks and I sit on her bed, and we talk - the three of us reluctant to part company now. Mom climbs into bed, and Twinks sits at her feet, while I sit on the floor. We talk quietly so that we don't disturb The Stepdad in the next room. We talk about nothing and everything. We laugh, and because we are tired, and relieved to be together again, we become silly. Everything becomes funny, and soon we are laughing so hard we are crying.
It is a relief; an emotional escape valve that lets off a bit of the pressure. Gasping with laughter, and mopping up our tears, we finally say goodnight, and go back to our guest apartment. It is the first time I have ever visited my mother, and not slept in her home. It is an odd, disconnected feeling, even though I know we are in the same building, we are not in her "house".
We unpack enough to get Twinks into bed, and after she falls asleep, I call The Wrench. I tell him what little I know of Mom's medical problems.
We cry together, on the phone. I miss him more than ever.
Certain I will never be able to sleep, I lay down on the bed. All too soon, it is morning, and time to get up. Twinks and I hurry to meet Mom and The Stepdad upstairs in their apartment for breakfast...
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Next, The Chronicles of Florida. Complete with a Witch, a wardrobe, and a Liar.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Summer Vacation: Day 2, "How y"all doin' today?"
Day 1 was here, in case you missed it.
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Well, we had a good night at the new Holiday Inn Express. And now, it was a brand-new shiny day, and we were on our way to our second night destination. Again, about 500 miles lay between us and the end of the day, so we started fairly early. Because we had stayed on the opposite side of the city, there was no rush hour traffic going our way, and we sailed along the roads in the golden morning light.
This day looked to be the most stressful of the three, simply because we were going to have to go "off the grid" and hit the blue highways (or, in our atlas, the red roads) instead of taking the Interstate highways. We started and finished the day on the Interstate road system, but in between, we were slated to go diagonally across two states using these local highways. Fortunately, I was somewhat familiar with the second state, as we had lived there when I was in college, and I had actually traveled some of the roads, although it had been more than twenty years since I was there last.
I was not prepared for the emotional impact of returning to that state; the last time I had been there, my dad was still alive, and my husband, and my child were both but a dream in the far-off future. My mind kept reeling back through time, dredging up memories that I thought were long gone. Twinks was amazed as I easily slipped right back into the soft southern accent that I had carried when we lived there; I was amused by her reaction to it. I have the rather unfortunate ability (and rather marked tendency toward) adopting the local accent of wherever I happen to be standing at the moment. It comes naturally and all to easily to me. Despite the old stereotype of the slow-drawling southerner, people in this part of Dixieland talk fast, and it can be difficult to understand them until you find the cadence in their words. Twinks was speechless as I ordered lunch; she later confessed that she had only understood "about every third word" of the girl behind the counter.
We continued our journey diagonally across the state, working through big cities, and littler towns. We drove past giant bowling pins, huge peanuts made of Fiberglas, and one rather memorable giant doughnut, with painted on chocolate frosting. The kudzu smothers everything in its relentless path; we watched as the landscape rolled by, and changed from foothills of the Appalachians in the northwest, to the sandy soil thick with scrubby pines down by the Gulf.
We passed (yet another) hideous wreck; Twinks carefully averted her eyes. I gripped the steering wheel harder, and thanked God for keeping us safe.
Finally, we were pulling in to the town where we were slated to spend our second night. Tomorrow morning, we would get up, and drive on to my Mom's new place, but tonight we were still about 500 miles away.
The outside and lobby of this hotel *looked* great. Clean, shining, and no apparent problems, until we actually opened the door to the hotel room. The furnishings were old, and clearly had not been updated since some time in the mid-to-late 80's. The dark wood paneling on the walls was probably once lustrous and fashionable, but now it was shabby, and flecked with white, powdery mildew. The bathroom ceiling was sagging, and the entire room reeked strongly of mold and mildew.
No way we were staying there. I was tired, to be sure, but this was not going to work. I called the front desk, told the desk clerk that we would be checking out, and then called the hotel next door, to see if they had any rooms.
They didn't.
I called another hotel, further down the street - bingo! We have a room, on the first floor, for the same rate we were going to pay for this dump. We go back around to the lobby to turn in our keys and check out. The desk clerk apologizes for the condition of the room, and confesses that if we look "out back" we will see that they are currently building a whole new hotel building that will replace the stinking, moldy old heap they are currently renting out. Great. That does us no good tonight, so we move down the street to the replacement hotel.
This is a "Country Inn & Suites", another fairly newly-built property. The girl behind the desk is friendly, and her little girl seems to have the run of the place. We have never stayed at this brand before, and Twinks is delighted to learn about their lending library. I am delighted to learn there is a Pizza Hut across the street. My mind begins to form mental images of a crispy, green salad, followed by a soft, comfy bed.
We eat at Pizza Hut, and Twinks plans to adjourn to the hotel's pool are thwarted by a huge thunderstorm brewing off to the west. She manages to get in a bit of pool time, but I keep a nervous eye on the spectacular thunderheads that are building. At the first rumble of thunder, I call her out of the pool, and we head back inside.
Once back in our room, Twinks starts the shower, so that she can wash off the chlorine from the pool. Just moments after climbing into the shower, she slips and falls. I run to the bathroom, and help her back up. Now she is scared she is going to fall again, but she needs to finish washing off the soap and shampoo. The bottom of the tub is indeed frighteningly slippery; it seems that the housekeeping staff has not rinsed all of the cleaning chemicals from the bathtub; the soap suds has combined with the residue to create a super-slippery surface. I grab a towel, and throw it into the bottom of the tub for her to stand on, hoping that it will "stick" enough to the slippery surface that she can complete bathing in relative safety. I hold on to her, soaking myself and the floor in the process.
Finally, she is done and safely outside the tub. Aside from her pride, a new fear of hotel bathtubs, and a rapidly-forming bruise or two, she seems to be fine. I mop up the bathroom, change into dry jammies, send The Wrench a love note via the laptop, and call it a day.
Day 3 dawns hot, humid, and bright. I shower *carefully* in the slippery tub from Hell. Twinks is aching and bruised, but chomping at the bit to get going to see Grandma. The breakfast room is bustling with activity. I grab a copy of USA Today in a feeble attempt to keep up with the news. I am a news junkie by nature; when we travel I always feel a bit disconnected from what is going on in the world. Fresh fruit, cold milk and cereal; we zip through a quick, but healthy meal while some inordinately cheerful anchor person talks about the weather on the local morning news show.
Today we will be at Grandma's house at the end of the day, and we are both eager to get going. Had we known how this day would go, we might have been a bit *less* eager to check out, and start driving...
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Day 3 is next...
.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-.
Well, we had a good night at the new Holiday Inn Express. And now, it was a brand-new shiny day, and we were on our way to our second night destination. Again, about 500 miles lay between us and the end of the day, so we started fairly early. Because we had stayed on the opposite side of the city, there was no rush hour traffic going our way, and we sailed along the roads in the golden morning light.
This day looked to be the most stressful of the three, simply because we were going to have to go "off the grid" and hit the blue highways (or, in our atlas, the red roads) instead of taking the Interstate highways. We started and finished the day on the Interstate road system, but in between, we were slated to go diagonally across two states using these local highways. Fortunately, I was somewhat familiar with the second state, as we had lived there when I was in college, and I had actually traveled some of the roads, although it had been more than twenty years since I was there last.
I was not prepared for the emotional impact of returning to that state; the last time I had been there, my dad was still alive, and my husband, and my child were both but a dream in the far-off future. My mind kept reeling back through time, dredging up memories that I thought were long gone. Twinks was amazed as I easily slipped right back into the soft southern accent that I had carried when we lived there; I was amused by her reaction to it. I have the rather unfortunate ability (and rather marked tendency toward) adopting the local accent of wherever I happen to be standing at the moment. It comes naturally and all to easily to me. Despite the old stereotype of the slow-drawling southerner, people in this part of Dixieland talk fast, and it can be difficult to understand them until you find the cadence in their words. Twinks was speechless as I ordered lunch; she later confessed that she had only understood "about every third word" of the girl behind the counter.
We continued our journey diagonally across the state, working through big cities, and littler towns. We drove past giant bowling pins, huge peanuts made of Fiberglas, and one rather memorable giant doughnut, with painted on chocolate frosting. The kudzu smothers everything in its relentless path; we watched as the landscape rolled by, and changed from foothills of the Appalachians in the northwest, to the sandy soil thick with scrubby pines down by the Gulf.
We passed (yet another) hideous wreck; Twinks carefully averted her eyes. I gripped the steering wheel harder, and thanked God for keeping us safe.
Finally, we were pulling in to the town where we were slated to spend our second night. Tomorrow morning, we would get up, and drive on to my Mom's new place, but tonight we were still about 500 miles away.
The outside and lobby of this hotel *looked* great. Clean, shining, and no apparent problems, until we actually opened the door to the hotel room. The furnishings were old, and clearly had not been updated since some time in the mid-to-late 80's. The dark wood paneling on the walls was probably once lustrous and fashionable, but now it was shabby, and flecked with white, powdery mildew. The bathroom ceiling was sagging, and the entire room reeked strongly of mold and mildew.
No way we were staying there. I was tired, to be sure, but this was not going to work. I called the front desk, told the desk clerk that we would be checking out, and then called the hotel next door, to see if they had any rooms.
They didn't.
I called another hotel, further down the street - bingo! We have a room, on the first floor, for the same rate we were going to pay for this dump. We go back around to the lobby to turn in our keys and check out. The desk clerk apologizes for the condition of the room, and confesses that if we look "out back" we will see that they are currently building a whole new hotel building that will replace the stinking, moldy old heap they are currently renting out. Great. That does us no good tonight, so we move down the street to the replacement hotel.
This is a "Country Inn & Suites", another fairly newly-built property. The girl behind the desk is friendly, and her little girl seems to have the run of the place. We have never stayed at this brand before, and Twinks is delighted to learn about their lending library. I am delighted to learn there is a Pizza Hut across the street. My mind begins to form mental images of a crispy, green salad, followed by a soft, comfy bed.
We eat at Pizza Hut, and Twinks plans to adjourn to the hotel's pool are thwarted by a huge thunderstorm brewing off to the west. She manages to get in a bit of pool time, but I keep a nervous eye on the spectacular thunderheads that are building. At the first rumble of thunder, I call her out of the pool, and we head back inside.
Once back in our room, Twinks starts the shower, so that she can wash off the chlorine from the pool. Just moments after climbing into the shower, she slips and falls. I run to the bathroom, and help her back up. Now she is scared she is going to fall again, but she needs to finish washing off the soap and shampoo. The bottom of the tub is indeed frighteningly slippery; it seems that the housekeeping staff has not rinsed all of the cleaning chemicals from the bathtub; the soap suds has combined with the residue to create a super-slippery surface. I grab a towel, and throw it into the bottom of the tub for her to stand on, hoping that it will "stick" enough to the slippery surface that she can complete bathing in relative safety. I hold on to her, soaking myself and the floor in the process.
Finally, she is done and safely outside the tub. Aside from her pride, a new fear of hotel bathtubs, and a rapidly-forming bruise or two, she seems to be fine. I mop up the bathroom, change into dry jammies, send The Wrench a love note via the laptop, and call it a day.
Day 3 dawns hot, humid, and bright. I shower *carefully* in the slippery tub from Hell. Twinks is aching and bruised, but chomping at the bit to get going to see Grandma. The breakfast room is bustling with activity. I grab a copy of USA Today in a feeble attempt to keep up with the news. I am a news junkie by nature; when we travel I always feel a bit disconnected from what is going on in the world. Fresh fruit, cold milk and cereal; we zip through a quick, but healthy meal while some inordinately cheerful anchor person talks about the weather on the local morning news show.
Today we will be at Grandma's house at the end of the day, and we are both eager to get going. Had we known how this day would go, we might have been a bit *less* eager to check out, and start driving...
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Day 3 is next...
Friday, June 23, 2006
What I did on my Summer Vacation...
By Thimbelle.
My summer vacation was supposed to be really KEWL, but it totally sucked.
We drove and drove (for, like, forever) and we had to drive right past DisneyWorld, and didn't even get to stop!
Florida is full of bugs. I HATE BUGS!!! There was a little gecko that lived on the windowsill. My mom calls him a "Geico". Too funny, mom.
My mom, who moved to Florida, even tho it totally gets chewed by hurricanes, like, all the time, was fully ill when we got there. That totally sucked, and completely harshed my mellow. She's like way sick, and spends a lot of time going to the doctors there.
We only got to go to the mall once, and that totally sucked too, cuz we could only stay for like an hour and a half. That is not even enough time to shop for anything real!
We had to leave to come home WAY too soon, and we drove, like, 500 miles every day. It was way too harsh, and nobody in the car was happy.
Then, when we got home, my best guy was so happy to see me that he bought me a NEW DELL LAPTOP, which totally rocked!!!
But, then it crashed after like, just three days, and the tech support people were, like, all overseas, and it is totally too hard to understand them. Plus, the phone lines were like all static-y and cut out all the time. They so need new phones! That really put a cramp in my happy. But after like a zillion phone calls and emails they fixed everything, so that was cool.
My new laptop totally rocks now, and I can fully play the Sims 2 on it, even with all the settings on high. So, that part is great.
And that is what I did on my summer vacation.
The End.
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Not really.
Well, sort of.
500 miles a day, and I can get to my Mom's new place in three days. Twinks and I are veterans of the two-day 800 mile round-trip to and from Hospital City, so you would think that three 500 mile days would not be that difficult.
You would be wrong.
It was terrible. Exhausting. Three days to get there, and each of those three days we got stuck in a traffic jam on a major Interstate highway that was the result of a horrific traffic accident.
The first day started off a bit hectic. The Wrench always gets really upset whenever we travel without him, and as we packed the minivan with suitcases, the laptop, an ice chest, and picnic supplies, he grew increasingly unhappy. By the time we were ready to pull out of the driveway, he and I both were on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Most of the time, I don't mind traveling without him, even though we do miss him tremendously. But this time, I wanted so badly for him to be able to come with us. I knew that he couldn't - he had already used all of his vacation for the year - but it didn't stop me from crying when we pulled away. I cried off and on for the first hundred miles or so.
This trip marked a bit of a milestone for our little family - it was the first time that Twinks has been old enough (and tall enough) to sit in the front. Until now, she always sat in the middle row, passenger side seat. It was a bit weird at first, but I was very glad to have her company up front with me. She's a great navigator, and an excellent traveling companion.
The day was warm, sunny, and clear. We made good time until we got about 50 miles from our hotel. Rush hour traffic, road construction, and a huge, terrible accident all conspired to run us another 30 miles out of our way. We finally pulled into our hotel about two hours later than we should have.
That first night we stayed at a brand-new Holiday Inn Express. They had an all new line of linens; a cotton-rich blend, with a white-on-white ticking on the sheets. Four pillows on each bed - two "soft" and two "firm". (so indicated by the little embroidery on the edge of the pillowcase). A cotton blend duvet cover over a nice, plump duvet. Also, a soft cotton throw across the end of both beds. The room was nicely appointed - a microwave, mini-fridge, 25" TV, and my favorite part: An armchair and ottoman. The beds were very comfortable, and very tempting, but we were hungry, and so walked across the parking lot for dinner.
Local BBQ joint; I had the pulled pork, with their "mild" sauce. The sauce was good, but a bit on the vinegary side for my taste. We walked back to the hotel just at sunset, and Twinks changed into her swimsuit for a little bit of pool time. The pool was warm and full of kids; I sat on the deck, sipped a Diet Coke, and chatted with a couple of moms from Ohio that were there for a family reunion that weekend. Finally coaxed Twinks out of the pool with the promise of microwave popcorn in the room, and we went back to our room for the night. She had popcorn, I sank into the armchair, propped up my feet, and surfed a bit on the laptop. Sent The Wrench a love note and it was lights out.
Next morning, we found breakfast in a lovely room, with high ceilings, big windows, and a nice assortment of tropical foliage. Holiday Inn Express serves these cinnamon rolls that are *so* good; soft, warm, with just the right amount of icing on top. I could eat those little stinkers non-stop, they are so good. I showed remarkable self-restraint, however, as I wanted to be able to actually fit behind the wheel of the minivan... After breakfast, we packed up and started driving again.
Day two was interesting for a lot of reasons...
My summer vacation was supposed to be really KEWL, but it totally sucked.
We drove and drove (for, like, forever) and we had to drive right past DisneyWorld, and didn't even get to stop!
Florida is full of bugs. I HATE BUGS!!! There was a little gecko that lived on the windowsill. My mom calls him a "Geico". Too funny, mom.
My mom, who moved to Florida, even tho it totally gets chewed by hurricanes, like, all the time, was fully ill when we got there. That totally sucked, and completely harshed my mellow. She's like way sick, and spends a lot of time going to the doctors there.
We only got to go to the mall once, and that totally sucked too, cuz we could only stay for like an hour and a half. That is not even enough time to shop for anything real!
We had to leave to come home WAY too soon, and we drove, like, 500 miles every day. It was way too harsh, and nobody in the car was happy.
Then, when we got home, my best guy was so happy to see me that he bought me a NEW DELL LAPTOP, which totally rocked!!!
But, then it crashed after like, just three days, and the tech support people were, like, all overseas, and it is totally too hard to understand them. Plus, the phone lines were like all static-y and cut out all the time. They so need new phones! That really put a cramp in my happy. But after like a zillion phone calls and emails they fixed everything, so that was cool.
My new laptop totally rocks now, and I can fully play the Sims 2 on it, even with all the settings on high. So, that part is great.
And that is what I did on my summer vacation.
The End.
.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-.
Not really.
Well, sort of.
500 miles a day, and I can get to my Mom's new place in three days. Twinks and I are veterans of the two-day 800 mile round-trip to and from Hospital City, so you would think that three 500 mile days would not be that difficult.
You would be wrong.
It was terrible. Exhausting. Three days to get there, and each of those three days we got stuck in a traffic jam on a major Interstate highway that was the result of a horrific traffic accident.
The first day started off a bit hectic. The Wrench always gets really upset whenever we travel without him, and as we packed the minivan with suitcases, the laptop, an ice chest, and picnic supplies, he grew increasingly unhappy. By the time we were ready to pull out of the driveway, he and I both were on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Most of the time, I don't mind traveling without him, even though we do miss him tremendously. But this time, I wanted so badly for him to be able to come with us. I knew that he couldn't - he had already used all of his vacation for the year - but it didn't stop me from crying when we pulled away. I cried off and on for the first hundred miles or so.
This trip marked a bit of a milestone for our little family - it was the first time that Twinks has been old enough (and tall enough) to sit in the front. Until now, she always sat in the middle row, passenger side seat. It was a bit weird at first, but I was very glad to have her company up front with me. She's a great navigator, and an excellent traveling companion.
The day was warm, sunny, and clear. We made good time until we got about 50 miles from our hotel. Rush hour traffic, road construction, and a huge, terrible accident all conspired to run us another 30 miles out of our way. We finally pulled into our hotel about two hours later than we should have.
That first night we stayed at a brand-new Holiday Inn Express. They had an all new line of linens; a cotton-rich blend, with a white-on-white ticking on the sheets. Four pillows on each bed - two "soft" and two "firm". (so indicated by the little embroidery on the edge of the pillowcase). A cotton blend duvet cover over a nice, plump duvet. Also, a soft cotton throw across the end of both beds. The room was nicely appointed - a microwave, mini-fridge, 25" TV, and my favorite part: An armchair and ottoman. The beds were very comfortable, and very tempting, but we were hungry, and so walked across the parking lot for dinner.
Local BBQ joint; I had the pulled pork, with their "mild" sauce. The sauce was good, but a bit on the vinegary side for my taste. We walked back to the hotel just at sunset, and Twinks changed into her swimsuit for a little bit of pool time. The pool was warm and full of kids; I sat on the deck, sipped a Diet Coke, and chatted with a couple of moms from Ohio that were there for a family reunion that weekend. Finally coaxed Twinks out of the pool with the promise of microwave popcorn in the room, and we went back to our room for the night. She had popcorn, I sank into the armchair, propped up my feet, and surfed a bit on the laptop. Sent The Wrench a love note and it was lights out.
Next morning, we found breakfast in a lovely room, with high ceilings, big windows, and a nice assortment of tropical foliage. Holiday Inn Express serves these cinnamon rolls that are *so* good; soft, warm, with just the right amount of icing on top. I could eat those little stinkers non-stop, they are so good. I showed remarkable self-restraint, however, as I wanted to be able to actually fit behind the wheel of the minivan... After breakfast, we packed up and started driving again.
Day two was interesting for a lot of reasons...
Sunday, June 18, 2006
A Father's Day Fairy Tale...
This, gentle reader, is a story about three Kings. Each one a wonderful father. Each one with his own Little Princess.
Once upon a time...
There was a benevolent King, who oversaw his happy little Kingdom with a kind and loving hand. He loved and cared for all who dwelled within his Kingdom, however, there was but one Little Princess who ruled the King's heart.
The Little Princess loved the King with all of her little heart, and she especially loved the fact that even her smallest wish was always his greatest command. The Little Princess was beloved by all who set eyes upon her, for she was fair and delightful to behold, as well as being quite well-mannered. Even visiting Princesses from neighboring Kingdoms were quite enchanted with the Little Princess, and she was often much in demand for Tea Parties and other girlish pursuits.
And so, life was good. In all the Kingdom, there was no happier sight for those who dwelled there, than to see the King with his Little Princess, laughing and playing together. They shared many, many joyful days together, and with the King's wise and fair tutelage, the Little Princess grew to be a strong, smart young woman.
In time, the Little Princess left the happy Kingdom to go to college. She met a Wonderful Man who adored her every bit as much as the King did. In proper fashion, the Wonderful Man went to the King, and asked for the hand of the Little Princess in marriage.
The King told the Wonderful Man that if he didn't take VERY GOOD care of the Little Princess, the Wonderful Man would never have to worry about his "Royal Jewels" because the King himself would remove them to another location. Permanently.
The Wonderful Man, fearing a painful shortage of testosterone in his future, vehemently promised the King that he would, in fact and in deed, take very good care of the Little Princess, who would get a field promotion to Queen at the wedding.
And so, there were nuptials in the happy little Kingdom. And all was well. The Little Princess became Queen of her own tiny little Kingdom, and she gracefully presided over bridge parties and summer barbecues, and watched wistfully as all of the other Queens in the neighborhood brought home their own Little Princesses (and Princes). The Queen, and her King adopted a canine Royal Subject that they loved very much, but the Queen still longed for a baby of her own.
Then, seven years after the Queen and her King were married, they were blessed with a Little Princess of their own.
This Little Princess lived very much as her own mother had... she adored her mother (and wished to be exactly like her when she grew up). She also adored her father, the King, who would carry this Little Princess in his strong arms whenever she grew tired, and who would chase the scary bad monsters out from under her bed every night before she climbed under the covers.
This Little Princess spent many, many happy hours with her father, the King. They did many things together; the King was determined that his Little Princess would learn about art, architecture, history, music, and more, so that she would be a learned Little Princess. When she obtained her driver's license, the King even taught his Little Princess how to change her own oil and rebuild a carburetor, so that she would never have to rely upon a strange mechanic to fix her Royal Carriage for her.
As her mother before her, this Little Princess went away to college, however, she was a Modern Princess, and so concentrated more on her studies and having fun, and less on finding the perfect King with which to begin her own Royal Family.
Finally, five years after she graduated from college, this Little Princess found a Prince Charming. The Queen had begun to despair of ever seeing even so much as one grandchild, so she was quite heartened by the news of Prince Charmings' arrival in the Kingdom. Indeed, he charmed everyone in the Kingdom instantly; even the King knew right away that this Prince Charming was The Real Deal, and so he wisely welcomed him with open arms. The Queen, being a longtime student of human nature, saw right away that this Prince would be an excellent King for her Little Princess, and she was pleased.
As with the generation before, Prince Charming approached the King to ask for the hand of this Little Princess in marriage. As before, dire warnings were proclaimed should any sign of unhappiness fall upon the fair countenance of this Little Princess. And, as before, this Little Princess was promoted to Queen during a lovely ceremony, and Prince Charming became King. After a lovely little honeymoon, the newest Queen, along with her King, retired to a lovely little Kingdom. The newlyweds adopted a feline Royal Subject, and happily worked on producing a little Royal heir.
Then, seven years after they were married, they were blessed with a beautiful Little Princess of their own.
And THIS Little Princess loves her Daddy, the King, with all of her heart... just like the Little Princesses before her. This King carries her in his strong arms when she can't walk. He kills bad, scary bugs that threaten his Little Princess. He teaches his Little Princess all the things he thinks she should know, and he makes sure that she will be able to be self-sufficient in the future. He still gets misty-eyed when he watches video of the Little Princess as a baby, and he carries pictures of her - 12 of them, one for each year - in his wallet wherever he goes. He can fix almost anything that breaks in their happy little Kingdom, and he still adores his Queen after nearly twenty years of marriage.
And what about her Mommy?
Her Mommy blogs anonymously... ;)
Once upon a time...
There was a benevolent King, who oversaw his happy little Kingdom with a kind and loving hand. He loved and cared for all who dwelled within his Kingdom, however, there was but one Little Princess who ruled the King's heart.
The Little Princess loved the King with all of her little heart, and she especially loved the fact that even her smallest wish was always his greatest command. The Little Princess was beloved by all who set eyes upon her, for she was fair and delightful to behold, as well as being quite well-mannered. Even visiting Princesses from neighboring Kingdoms were quite enchanted with the Little Princess, and she was often much in demand for Tea Parties and other girlish pursuits.
And so, life was good. In all the Kingdom, there was no happier sight for those who dwelled there, than to see the King with his Little Princess, laughing and playing together. They shared many, many joyful days together, and with the King's wise and fair tutelage, the Little Princess grew to be a strong, smart young woman.
In time, the Little Princess left the happy Kingdom to go to college. She met a Wonderful Man who adored her every bit as much as the King did. In proper fashion, the Wonderful Man went to the King, and asked for the hand of the Little Princess in marriage.
The King told the Wonderful Man that if he didn't take VERY GOOD care of the Little Princess, the Wonderful Man would never have to worry about his "Royal Jewels" because the King himself would remove them to another location. Permanently.
The Wonderful Man, fearing a painful shortage of testosterone in his future, vehemently promised the King that he would, in fact and in deed, take very good care of the Little Princess, who would get a field promotion to Queen at the wedding.
And so, there were nuptials in the happy little Kingdom. And all was well. The Little Princess became Queen of her own tiny little Kingdom, and she gracefully presided over bridge parties and summer barbecues, and watched wistfully as all of the other Queens in the neighborhood brought home their own Little Princesses (and Princes). The Queen, and her King adopted a canine Royal Subject that they loved very much, but the Queen still longed for a baby of her own.
Then, seven years after the Queen and her King were married, they were blessed with a Little Princess of their own.
This Little Princess lived very much as her own mother had... she adored her mother (and wished to be exactly like her when she grew up). She also adored her father, the King, who would carry this Little Princess in his strong arms whenever she grew tired, and who would chase the scary bad monsters out from under her bed every night before she climbed under the covers.
This Little Princess spent many, many happy hours with her father, the King. They did many things together; the King was determined that his Little Princess would learn about art, architecture, history, music, and more, so that she would be a learned Little Princess. When she obtained her driver's license, the King even taught his Little Princess how to change her own oil and rebuild a carburetor, so that she would never have to rely upon a strange mechanic to fix her Royal Carriage for her.
As her mother before her, this Little Princess went away to college, however, she was a Modern Princess, and so concentrated more on her studies and having fun, and less on finding the perfect King with which to begin her own Royal Family.
Finally, five years after she graduated from college, this Little Princess found a Prince Charming. The Queen had begun to despair of ever seeing even so much as one grandchild, so she was quite heartened by the news of Prince Charmings' arrival in the Kingdom. Indeed, he charmed everyone in the Kingdom instantly; even the King knew right away that this Prince Charming was The Real Deal, and so he wisely welcomed him with open arms. The Queen, being a longtime student of human nature, saw right away that this Prince would be an excellent King for her Little Princess, and she was pleased.
As with the generation before, Prince Charming approached the King to ask for the hand of this Little Princess in marriage. As before, dire warnings were proclaimed should any sign of unhappiness fall upon the fair countenance of this Little Princess. And, as before, this Little Princess was promoted to Queen during a lovely ceremony, and Prince Charming became King. After a lovely little honeymoon, the newest Queen, along with her King, retired to a lovely little Kingdom. The newlyweds adopted a feline Royal Subject, and happily worked on producing a little Royal heir.
Then, seven years after they were married, they were blessed with a beautiful Little Princess of their own.
And THIS Little Princess loves her Daddy, the King, with all of her heart... just like the Little Princesses before her. This King carries her in his strong arms when she can't walk. He kills bad, scary bugs that threaten his Little Princess. He teaches his Little Princess all the things he thinks she should know, and he makes sure that she will be able to be self-sufficient in the future. He still gets misty-eyed when he watches video of the Little Princess as a baby, and he carries pictures of her - 12 of them, one for each year - in his wallet wherever he goes. He can fix almost anything that breaks in their happy little Kingdom, and he still adores his Queen after nearly twenty years of marriage.
And what about her Mommy?
Her Mommy blogs anonymously... ;)
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