::: who's gonna drive me home tonight? :::

Van = Dead
Reason = Transmission
Yesterday's trip to return the rental car = Not So Bad Anyway

On the way home, we decided to make stop somewhere new, wander around with our mouths agape, and spend the three-hour drive home trading all kinds of ideas.

I've now experienced IKEA.

The ideas were cool, and there were a few things I found that I kinda wanted, and a couple that I really wanted, but most of it was stuff I could do without. And I couldn't help feeling like I was simply shopping at a very large, very trendy Wal*Mart. Everything was made in China or Indonesia or Taiwan, even though the "face" of the place was Sweden, so I'm not sure how I feel about that. But I loved the free Wi-Fi, and I did buy a few dishtowels for .49 each and a pillow form for a thrift-store pillow cover. Bo actually spent more money than I, picking up a set of mixing bowls for the chocolate factory at a whopping $3.99 for a grand total of $7.85.

We're going to be doing a few more home improvement projects and I can see how some of the IKEA stuff could really help. I love their super-long, cut-to-fit curtains and all of the coolio-schmoolio ways you can hang them. Curtains I definitely need, and since I don't sew, it helps to find a place that has them in all lengths with no sewing required. Sad, huh? Still, there it is.

The van shall not return to us. I spent part of the morning drooling over the '10 Odysseys, even taking ten minutes to "build my own," which I pretty much tricked out except for the ski racks, the bike racks and the factory tent which was so incredibly factory, dude.

Now, if I could just come up with that $41K, I could give the dealer a jingle and say, "Let's roll, buddy."

Consumerism. It's what's for breakfast.

::: a trip to lititz :::

On Sunday, Bo and I drove to Mt. Joy, PA to take Houdin to his training for his trip to Africa. Because the commissioning ceremony was over at 9:30 that night, I had decided to make reservations in nearby Lititz, PA so that Bo and I could take a mini-vacation. We stayed at the historic General Sutter Inn which was unique and very affordable. Here are a few quick shots from our stay.

The General Sutter Inn


The streets of Lititz



The Fountain on Main Street



My Candy Horoscope at The Wilbur Chocolate Co.



Cool chandeliers at Cherry Acres,  a shop in Lititz that sells furniture made from salvaged barn wood.

Bo's Lunch: Chili con Chocolate at Cafe Chocolate.

My lunch: Vegetable Curry



Another Lititz Street. This is in front of the General Sutter Inn.


The Cherry Acres storefront.

 

There are some sweet resale shops in Lititz. I loved this little vanity set.



We took a tour of Julius Sturgis Pretzels.

::: seizing double :::

I recently read that you can reduce the number of chewing surface cavities you get by chewing on a stick of celery after your meals, which removes trapped food and helps saliva neutralize acids that cause tooth decay. I mentioned this to my husband, Bo, saying that it makes sense that 14 year-old Monet has so many chewing-surface cavities. We never eat celery!

"I like celery," Bo said.

19 years of marriage, and this, I never knew.

And as Bard was reading this, she said, "You didn't know that Dad liked celery? I like celery."

So while wandering in and around the produce department of my local grocer, I remembered that fact and reached out to score myself a bundle of crunchy greenness, plopped it into the cart, and reached for a second. I had to stop myself. It was a struggle, really. Not a physical struggle, no, but a mental struggle.

Why?

Because I'm afflicted with a terrible disorder. I seem to only be able to purchase things in twos.

I have no idea how this habit started or what my reasoning has been, if there has been any. But I remember discovering it for the first time.

I was standing in line at Stuff*Mart, placing my items on the conveyor, adding up my purchases in my head, when I became aware, through another strange habit of mine which is counting things, that I seemed to be bothered if I placed just one of something on the belt. One bottle of vitamins or one lampshade or one copy of Nacho Libre should be enough, if that's all I need, right? So why did it seem that the majority of my cart's contents came in multiples? And not in threes, or fives, or sevens, but always in twos. If there was one pound of butter, there was a second. One loaf of bread...two. One bottle of shampoo, one can of beans, one bag of rice? Yep, always a second one.

Now, to be fair to my slightly obsessive self, I do have a large family. With five kids in the house and usually one or two guests, plus a husband and a dad, we obviously go through more food, and more toilet paper, and more, well, more everything than a lot of people I know. But please. Who really *needs* two jugs of Tiki Torch fuel?

And also to be fair, it's often cheaper to buy two smaller containers of an item than the "family size." Have you ever noticed that? That family sizes can actually be more per ounce than the smaller ones? And that it changes, so you have to stay on your toes? Shame on those marketers. Shame, shame, shame.

So I've been trying to reform. I don't need double. I don't need double. and I certainly don't need to PAY double. While at the store today, I resisted the urge to toss in two boxes of allergy medicine. I chose three bottles of soda, in three different flavors. One bag of ice. With lots and lots of individual ice cubes inside the bag. I won't even attempt to count those. And even though I struggled in front of bargain bakery rack, I put back the fourth petite loaf of La Brea Roasted Chopped Garlic bread, leaving me with an odd number that only looks good in certain types of architecture.

From now on, I'll try to buy in twos only when absolutely necessary. Like in the case of pant legs. And Reese Cups. And pounds of baby swiss cheese. And extra-large glazed donuts from the local bakery. And strawberry rhubarb fry pies. And anything on clearance sale.

And Tiki Torch fuel.

How People Affect Me, Part Three

I had only been wandering around the bead shop for a half-hour or so when I heard a siren sounding, the kind of wail that emits from an ambulance and causes every mother to stop dead in her tracks. I tried to ignore it, but my mother-heart kept hurling itself into terrible fits of imagination. It had me convinced that my four-year-old was dead in the middle of town square, that she'd slipped from her older brother's clutches and had darted out into traffic.

Or that the eleven-year-old had been too exuberant with his new Heelies and ended up on the sidewalk in some unnatural position, his head cracked open, calling my name with his last few breaths.

I tried to fight these thoughts. I tried to tell myself that I was being ridiculous. I tried to concentrate on the beads before me, to focus on the beautiful hummingbird earrings I was attempting to create. But I couldn't do it. All of the "what-ifs" piled on top of my head and I just had to find out if my children were okay.

Setting my tin full of beads aside, I nonchalantly announced, "I have to go check on my children. I'll be right back." And then I stepped out the door onto the sidewalk and strolled ever-so-quickly towards the bookstore. Bard told me later how priceless was the expression of the bead shoppe woman.

I didn't see a crowd gathered along the sides of the road, so I felt a bit reassured, but then my mother-heart was nagging me with other, more probable scenarios. The bookstore was being torn apart, shelf-by-shelf, but my littlest darling while the boys fought over a comic book. Or the uptight bookstore clerk was timing my absense, prepared to call children's services any moment. Or the children hadn't gone into the bookstore at all. They were instead doing a standup routine on the corner with their hats out for tips. My busking boys.

I couldn't believe how long of a walk it was to the bookstore. It hadn't seemed that long before, and now I was questioning my sanity at letting my children walk so far away from me. Anything could happen in the time it takes a person to walk two blocks!

And then I was at the door of the bookstore, holding the handle in my hand, swinging it open, casting my eyes about the intimate bookshelf-lined room. I heard no shrieking. I saw no glaring employee. This was almost more eerie than my nightmarish thoughts.

When I rounded the corner, I found fifteen-year-old Houdin curled up on a chair with a big, thick book. A few feet away, The Baby was cuddled up on a couch next to a neatly-dressed woman who couldn't have looked more like the kind of lady who would work in a bookstore. Beside them stood a stack of books, and it was clear that had read or were intending to read every one of them. Dramatically.

The Baby barely noticed my entrance, and I'm not sure the bookstore lady gave much pause, either. They just read merrily along so that I almost wondered if I were having an Ebeneezer Scrooge moment.

But when the book was finished and the covers snapped shut, I was acknowledged ever-so-slightly. And then another book was begun.

A second bookstore lady stood in a little island in the middle of the store, near the register, and called to me that they'd been happily enjoying the children's company, and I knew then that I was in love. At that moment, I would have handed them my entire life's savings, I was so grateful. I took my time browsing the books until a nagging feeling overcame me. My beads were waiting. I had to return to finish my bead transactions.

So I let The Baby choose her favorite book from the pile they'd read, laughed as she and the bookstore ladies fought noisily over The Baby's purple shearling coat, and made a mental promise that I'd be back soon.

Those ladies were a balm to my soul. I want to be like them. I want to take life like they do, happily drinking it up and being right where they are, loving what they do. What could be more important than being kind to little girls and teenaged boys and tired mamas?

We finished our bead transaction and returned to the bookstore, where the second bookstore lady plopped herself right back down on the couch and read more books to The Baby and Sweetheart. Not lightweight books, either. These were long, wordy, time-consuming books. And the girls listened to every drop.

And I shopped.

As a thank-you for being such wonderful people, I made a large purchase at the bookstore. Large for me, that is.

Considering the service, I think it was the best deal I ever got.

Time to Vacate

We're not the kind of family who takes vacations.

I've never been to Disney World. I've never taken my children to see the Grand Canyon or Niagara Falls. We've never flown to Europe. Heck, we barely ever leave our state!

Even when my husband I and married, young and poor, our honeymoon was spent twenty minutes away from home in a hotel that was once an oats silo. For one night. And then we hit the ground running.

I don't believe we've stopped since.

Our vacations have always been more familycentric, consisting of visits to parents' and grandparents' houses, graduation parties, weddings, funerals. Our immediate family spends Bo's vacation days on service projects or home improvement projects. If we travel overnight, it's generally for our children's activities--particularly speech and debate tournaments.

If the tournament is less than 3 hours away, Bo does his best to convince us to just commute. If we can camp during one of these outings, we'll borrow a friend's pop-up and rough-it. If it's far, far away, we'll get one hotel room for the seven of us and pray there's a cot available when we get there.

This weekend, we had a tournament in Mt. Vernon, Ohio, which doesn't qualify as far, far away from us. We're not in camping weather, so roughing-it was out of the question.

But we didn't commute.

We stayed in a hotel. For THREE WHOLE NIGHTS. And celebrated!

Because this week, Sweetheart and I both turned a bit older. I am now a woman of thirty-eight and Sweetheart is an adorable eight-years-old. To make our birthdays more special, I decided that I would save up my pennies and spend an extra day in Mt. Vernon, explore that cute little college town, laze around in a hotel room watching Fresh Prince of Bel Aire and eating pizza.

After working and cleaning house on Wednesday, the five kiddoes and I drove to Mt. Vernon to check into our hotel room and settle in. There, we met our grumpy hotel host (more about her later) and vegged out, stayed up late, and laughed a lot.

Thursday morning, the day before the tournament was to start, I took the boys to get haircuts and then we briefly explored the downtown Mt. Vernon area. Just as I remembered from a pass-through several years ago, there was a cute little store (more about that later, too), a hip cafe and a bead shoppe with all of the makings for a few saweet pairs of earrings. There was also an adorable little bakery called The Pink Cupcake. I promptly strolled in and ordered a birthday cake for Sweetheart and her girlfriend Lydia, who would be turning 7 the next day.

We hoofed it back to the hotel to pick up the girls and then we went exploring.

Bard and I made earrings at the bead shop. Sweetheart made an adorable necklace with her name on it. The boys took The Baby to the bookstore and cafe (more about that later, too) where we met up with them after our earring adventure was complete. I checked my e-mail at the cafe and bought two fabulous cookbooks at the fabulous bookstore that employed two fabulous women (more about them later, too) and then we popped in to The Pink Cupcake so the girls could all ooh and ahh over the displays. Of course we just had to take something along with us (I may have gained seven pounds this week, but it was worth it) so we all chose something--both of us birthday girls chose two things--and then we meandered back to the hotel room where Bo joined us after his drive from home.

Friday morning, early, brought the tournament (more about that later, too. Boy. I hope I remember all this), a late-night pizza party, and more from our grumpy hotel clerk. Saturday brought more tournament, cake for the girls from The Pink Cupcake, and a wonderful evening meal at the Southside Diner where all of our forensics team enjoyed food, fellowship and general silliness.

It was a full and wonderful weekend--and there's so much more to tell.

While we may not take vacations, I try to take advantage of every moment, turning as many into mini-vacations as I possibly can. Those are the moments that make life fun.

A Lovely Birthday Celebration

I have so many reasons to be thankful, I'm not sure you have the time to read them all, so I'll condense and spread them all out over the next few days or so.

It's been a long time since my now-seventeen-year-old daughter Bard and I went out on a girls' day out together, so I decided that I would treat her to a whole day of shopping, dining and enjoying each other's company for her birthday. Since she had choir on Saturday (her entire choir sang Happy Birthday with full harmonies. Beautiful!), we were already going to be in the Big City, so I arranged for Bo to take care of the necessities at home, including delivering soup to Houdin's 30-Hour-Famine fast and delivering pizzas in the evening, and we took the day off to go play.

What a fun day we had! Lunch at Panera; over to the ritzy pet boutique to ogle over the puppies; shopping at Target, Sam's Club and Kohl's; a movie--Music and Lyrics with the witty and loveable Hugh Grant (with no popcorn--we both exercised very strong willpower and were thankful for it. Movie popcorn ALWAYS makes me sick); dinner at The Waffle House, where I scored a free coffee mug, just for asking; and we hung out at Borders until it was just about closing time; and then we drove home. We took our time all day long, enjoyed each other's company, laughed a lot, and it was wonderful.

Thank you, Bard, for such a fine time. I'm so glad we got to do that!