Firsts

I am firmly entrenched in reality right now.  The reality of my terrible sinuses.  The reality of Mount Laundry, that I must climb, yet again.  The reality that life is not a cruise.

This old woman has accomplished many firsts with this cruise.  And I am proud.

-first trip to Florida
-first cruise
-first time in another country other than the USA
-first time eating lobster
-first time eating Baked Alaska
-first time in a casino (I watched people feed money into the machines.  Was not impressed.)
-first time in a karaoke bar (I watched people sing.  Was somewhat impressed.  But no singing for me - they had no classic Linda Ronstadt tunes, so I took a pass.)
-first time in a dance club (sat on a couch and watched people dance.  Was impressed by the people that actually knew how to dance.  Photo of me holding a Bible was taken this night.  I was a saint.)

My favorite things included a facial (I haven't had one in 10 years), fine dining, lounge chairs and pool boys, and lots of time with lots of nice women from church.  I look forward to getting to go to an island again, putting my feet in the sand, and listening to the sounds and breathing the air.  But for now, I will battle my pollen-charged allergies and just remember the complete relaxation of sleeping on the ocean and lounging on the beach.

Yeah, it was great.

Back to Reality

Reality is sometimes a cruel and unusual punishment.  I managed to escape my family for a few days and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.  But now, it's time to get back.  No more pool boys bringing me drinks.  No more sunning on the deck, reading a paperback novel.  No more meals prepared for me that are way beyond my budget and nowhere near my coupon stack.  No more marvelling at the different colors of blue that I could see in the ocean.

Back to the real world.  Guess I can marvel at the colors of blue that get created by my toilet bowl cleaner...

Come Sail Away

I bought the Dramamine.

I tried on every outfit in my closet and threw them all in the suitcase.

I spent longer than two seconds shaving my legs and painting my toenails.  In February, no less.

I am about to boldly go where this momma has never gone before.  A sandy vacation.  With midnight buffets.

Sorry you couldn't come babe.  Just picture me lolling around in a hammock, cuz that is my agenda.

It's Raining Men

Scott and I exchanged a strange look with each other when we heard Roxy sing "It's Raining Men", which she has learned from a Wii game.  How are you supposed to feel about an eight year old singing about all the men?

The Franks fam cannot escape this theme this week.  It seems to be raining men.  And Scott does not like it.  Not one little bit.

It all started when Roxy was at lunch one day and a boy in her class asked if she was going to the school 80s party.  She said that she was going, and then he asked if she would like to dance with him.  And she said yes.

Roxy did not know that she would need to get her father's permission to dance with a cute blond boy with a third grade Bieber haircut.  

Roxy is so innocent.  And this boy is so sweet.  And Scott is ticked off.  Veiled threats were made.  This girl/boy relationship is based on lunchroom proximity and a love of Harry Potter books, but that does not matter to Scott.

So we get to the 80s party and there he is, wearing an 80s concert tshirt, denim jacket, and Chuck Taylors.  Roxy, wearing her paint splattered ruffle skirt, fingerless gloves, and Scrunchied pony tail - to the side- looks adorable in her Chuck Taylors, too.  I fumble in my purse, making sure I have my camera.

Roxy hooks up with the girl pack, and they circle the boys.  Kind of like something you would see on Animal Planet, waiting for someone to make the first move.

Roxy goes up and talks to him, but no dice.  A few minutes later she grabs him and he runs around with those girls, but still no dance.  Then she goes up to him later and gives him a high five, but yet again, he has not broken the ice and asked her to dance.

In the car on the way home, Roxy says that she had a good time, but how come the boy wouldn't dance with her?  I tell her that boys are very shy and that he is still her friend even though he was not ready to dance.  Roxy decides that she is kind of mad at him anyway.

Scott has a huge laugh at the boy's expense and feels like his telepathic powers controlled the entire situation.

How naive, young master Scott.

Two days later, Roxy brings home a phone number of a different boy from her class that she wants to contact about a "play date" where they can bond over Scribblenauts.  I ask how she got his number and she tells me that she gave him her phone number first so that they can help each other out on their game.  I then find out that she thinks this boy is even cuter than the other one and has thought so since the first day of school when she noticed him.  And can they have a play date tomorrow?

Roxy is so innocent.  She does not know that she needs her father's permission to give her phone number to a boy.

Currently, there have been no phone calls or play dates.  I am curious about the valentines Roxy will be sending these boys.  I just found out that she feels that both boys are "even" in how much she likes them.

Remember her song, Scottie.  It's raining men.

Southern Cultural Enrichment

Magazines are a weakness for me.  I do not care for electronic media, because sometimes the sum of the whole is greater than its parts.  Same things with albums:  you lose the point when you do not hear the whole concept of the artist, so buying individual songs defeats the message.

This is a magazine that I love and the whole magazine is greater than its parts, every single issue.  I just love it when a favorite band shows up on a favorite magazine.  And it is even better when there are lots of banjo bands in the magazine.

If you like the South and its food and its history, take a look at this magazine.  Makes you want to drive on an old road and look for the small town treasures...