It was an extremely excruciatingly sad lonely day at the Bank of No Forks today.  As you know, Amy is on vacation.  In addition to Amy being out, another of our work buddies isn’t in either. If I had a dollar every time someone said “It sure is quiet without Amy here.” I could have bought lunch at Chipotle. The World’s Greatest Receptionist and I were left to our own devices.

At the end of the longest day of our lives, WGR and I congratulated ourselves for not killing anyone.  I know you’re thinking it’s more likely that someone might get killed when Amy is with us but you’d be wrong.  Our dynamic works on a 2 to 1 ratio.  Two of us will decide that someone needs to die and the third will save them.

This is a real fire ant. His name is Wendell.

For example, Amy and WGR will decide that a person who cuts in line at Chik-Fil-A must be skinned and left for fire ants to dispose of the evidence while I can’t get excited about a line cutter – my reaction is always “Calm down, ladies, she must be in a hurry and we’ve got ’til 6:00 tonight.” Or I’ll decide the guy at the Hobby Lobby is annoying the crap out of me and WGR will hate his shirt and we’ll make plans to take him ’round back to the dumpster and Amy will say “For Cricket sake, the poor guy is just here to work.”

So, you can see when two of us are alone, nothing good can come from it.  We need that 2 to 1 ratio to stay out of jail. But no one died today.  We minded our own business for once and hope to continue in that vane through the week.  Truthfully, it would just be best if Amy flew home tonight as an act of kindness to the desert dwellers here in our town.  Amy – wish you were here!

If you read this blog, you know that I pack in a certain way and complete an index card for each outfit.  I start figuring out what I need weeks in advance and begin the long process of gathering everything up.  Not only do I do this for myself but depending on who in my family is traveling with me, I do it for them as well.

The children who live at my house have begun making trips on their own or with other family members without me.  Both of them leave on Tuesday with their grandmother to make a visit back east to spend three weeks with our relatives there.  Ed and I don’t go to join up with them until July 3rd.  Some of us work . . . and aren’t on summer vacation or retired – but we’re not bitter.  Actually, we’re going to pretend we never had children for a whole nine days.

Not the girl’s luggage, she does’t like cute stuff

Anyway, weeks ago I started prepping them to begin to think about packing and what they need to get if they need something.  No one, and I do mean no one, acted as if they were going to need to go on a shopping trip for the trip.  That is until Friday night hit. Friday night consisted of “when are we going shopping?, you know we leave on Tuesday, we need stuff, blah, blah, blah”.

My first thought was to teach them both a lesson and not take them shopping on Saturday but who would that really hurt?  Them or me – who didn’t go shopping?  So, come Saturday morning, off we went to the outlets just over an hour from our house.  We got pretty near everything they needed.  I even got the cutest summer dress . . .

We unpacked our haul and the girl started laying out outfits, asking me what went with what.  This is the girl who doesn’t care what she looks like.  Then, she gets out a piece of paper and starts writing it all down.  Tears filled my eyes.  I think I may have sobbed.  I fully believed she was never going to learn anything from me.  It was a proud moment when I realized I’d passed down this bit of OCD to her.

My next goal is to get her to understand when she goes to college she needs to wash her sheets far more than the national average of once every six months.  I’ll let you know how it goes . . .

Today is the day! I’m doing a little dance around my office.  Don’t worry, I’m not moving quickly or anything and a trip to the emergency should not be necessary. (Amylynn here ~ This is still doubtful. I’ve seen her try to walk across the office. It’s…funny)

What day is it you ask? Today is the last day of my self-imposed exile from sugar.  Yup, it’s day 30.  I do not owe the girl who lives at my house $500.00.  Ed couldn’t be more pleased to not have to divorce me over it. (Me again…It felt way more like 130 days)

The dictionary defines sugarcane as: a stout tall perennial grass (Saccharum officinarum) native to tropical southeast Asia that has a large terminal panicle and is widely grown in warm regions as a source of sugar

That’s incorrect.  Sugarcane should be defined as: a white granular substance native to The Quill Sisters pantry that has a large addictive quality and is widely known to cause great happiness when used in cake.

Here’s some things I learned while not eating sugar:

No matter what you read, you do not lose your craving for sugar after 48-72 hours.  It’s day 30 and I’d like some sugar.  I’d like it right now. I would have liked some over each of the last 30 days.  Did I say “some”? I meant I would have liked a LOT. I like sugar.  (Me again ~ this is the first I’ve heard of it. If she liked sugar so much she should have said something.)

I lost 6 lbs.  I can’t directly attribute this to my lack of sugar consumption because I also bought a rowing machine over the exact same time period.  The 6 lbs could have been from that.  Gods, I hope it’s from that and not the sugar. I like sugar.

The pain in my elbow went away.  I read that not eating sugar cuts down on inflammation all over your body.  Or it could be I stopped noticing that pain from all of the beatings Amy gave me over the last 30 days while I complained bitterly about not eating sugar. (Guess who ~ she not only complained bitterly, she also complained loudly, obnoxiously, and nearly constantly.)

I guess we’ll never know since I’m eating some cake tomorrow.  A whole cake. (Me ~ I’m buying)

The Sisters were driving to pick up lunch when Neil Young came on the radio leading to a discussion on armadillos.

Don’t ask.

Since the Sisters will be driving to San Antonio next month, they are kicking around the idea of picking up an armadillo.  Discussion ensued about what they eat (according to Amylynn, it is definitely not Chipotle but some type of bugs and such), whether one can be happily kept in a hotel tub, how does one coax an armadillo into a pet carrier, and are they best kept in pairs?

There was also some talk about the undesirable fact that they sometimes have leprosy and/or e coli. We figured we stock up on Lysol and baby wipes. We are nothing if not responsible.

That’s what everyone says. “Those Quill Sisters are so responsible.”

Texas is hot like our desert home so we think our weather will be okay for our new “kids”.  We’re going to put them in pajamas and berets. If we get two, as planned, their names will be Sven and Hans.

Clearly, some research is in order.

Like a lot of people, the Ava Bright family lives in a neighborhood with an HOA.  Generally, HOA stands for “Home Owners Association” but at our house it means “Hunting Obnoxious Anarchist”.  We receive several violation letters a year from the management company because, apparently we didn’t bother to read the 902 pages of covenants, conditions, and restrictions we were given before we moved in.  There’s a whole lot of stuff you can’t do at your own house.  And, more importantly, there’s an old man who drives around looking for this stuff so he can report you. (You can read the actual letter here – vistoso – maybe – we’re technical morons  – give it a shot.) We get lots of letters about weeds.  In our defense, everything looks like a weed in the desert.  We’ve also gotten a letter for violating the height of

Sneaky penguin

the low hanging branches on our tree.  Those branches are not allowed to grow as nature intended – they must be not less than 9ft from the top of the correct color gravel.  Our gravel is the correct color, just so you know. Our latest problem involves a penguin.  We’ve never received a photograph before with any of the letters.  Here it is.  Luckily, the letter specifically addresses the penguin that is in violation – “Penguin in Santa hat under your front window” – just so we don’t mix it up with the other penguins in our front yard.  Isn’t he the cutest penguin wearing a Santa hat you’ve ever seen? Instead of removing him, we’re going to put an American flag bandanna over the Santa hat.  Anarchist unit!

Before we get to the funny stuff, here’s the sad stuff: One of the Sisters has had very little sugar over the past eighteen days.   A bet of $500.00 was made with a teen daughter regarding thirty days of sugarfreeness, don’t ask.  It’s not pretty.  Okay, Ava’s the sister and Amylynn won’t stop harassing her about how dumb she was to be goaded into such a position by a small girl.  Point taken, Amylynn, now be quiet!  Here’s the fun stuff.

1. National Doughnut Day.  This makes #1 for the week because of course it does.  The Sisters love donuts.  LOVE.  No need to talk about Ava only having a small bite of a Cronut.  You might think Amylynn would not have been involved with the office buying said Cronuts, to help sugar-free Ava out, but you’d be wrong.  Wrong. You also might think it was easy to obtain these donuts, but again, you’d be mistaken. There’s a donut shop on every freaking corner. At the first place there was actually a sign on the door – “Sorry, we’re out of donuts”. At the next place we had to park a block and a half away and there were 47 people in line in front of us for the last three donuts

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in the case. Don’t you think donut places would be better prepared for National Donut Day? Seriously. If not them, then who? We finally had to settle for grocery store donuts. Whatever, a donut is a donut.

2. It’s a Long Drive from AZ to MI.  This isn’t funny but it really is. That kind of happens in the real world, doesn’t it? Seems a 62 year old man was driving with his 31 year old girlfriend and his 92 year old mother from Phoenix to Detroit.  On the trip, the girlfriend died–we know, not funny but hang in there with us for a minute. The driver refused to pull over.  Yup, he drove straight through with her in the front passenger seat

O. M. G! Gross!!!!

and wearing sunglasses.  WTF?  What could the man’s possible excuse have been for such ridiculous behavior?  We bet his mom bitched and moaned the entire way home because she wanted to trade places and sit in the front seat.

3. Man Steals Human Skins.  A man has been charged with stealing over 200 skin grafts while on his job as a medical sales representative.  The grafts were unauthorized and worth over $350K.  The Sisters debated this out for hours.  What was he doing with the skin?  Why did he need so much skin?  We finally came to the conclusion that he’s building a human?  Perhaps he needs a friend?  We hope he’s not hired on at an organ transplant company.  Guard your throats people, guard your throats.

4. Apparently she’s full of s**t. The Long Island Medium, Theresa Caputo, has been called out as a fraud by investigator, Ron Tebo. Apparently, she can’t talk to ghosts. The Sisters are so disappointed we might need to eat another donut to get through this. We seriously want to believe in ghosts. We really, really do. Actually, the list of stuff we’d like to believe in is outrageously long – ghosts, aliens, Bigfoot, Loch Ness Monster, a diet that works, and that Elvis is really alive. This is just another nail in the coffin of our rich and vivid fantasy life. If Caputo is a fraud, then the prediction that we’d get a panda bear this year is also probably bullshit too. Damn it. Pass the donuts.

5. Don’t be a punk. There is this fabulous ad campaign in Baltimore bringing attention to animal cruelty. All kinds of sports figures, musicians, and tough guys galore are doing shoots with their pets. The tag line, Only a Punk Would Hurt a Cat or Dog is great and these photos are so charming. Here’s one of our favorites with John Rallo and one of his four cats, Doobie. We love this not only because it’s a cool idea, but there are cute puppies and kitties to squeal at.

Unbelievably, the Target Board of Directors did not accept our request for employment.  That’s going to be their loss . . . maybe we’ll just go fix Sears instead.  That will serve them right.  Right?  If nothing else, we’ll get to straighten out those Kardashian sisters.

The Quill Sisters don’t dwell or carry a grudge (Okay, we do dwell and we do carry grudges, we carry them in Amylynn’s purse where everything in the world is kept) so we’re moving on to other employment opportunities.  Ava thought it might be best if they inquired at Chipotle.  After all, we’re there so often, some of the folks there think we work there anyway.

Us working with food – Blahahhaaaaaaaa

Here’s the deal: employees get a free meal after every shift!!!  OMG – the money that will be saved!!.  And, more happiness!  When you aren’t working, you get 50% off anything you buy!  Plus, those funny black t-shirts are very slimming.

Now we just need to work out the hours.  No, we cant be there by 9:00AM.  We’re planning on sleeping in after our years at BofNF.  We can be there by 11ish.  No one should be eating lunch before that anyway.  We can stay until 2:00PM, at which point we’ll clock out so we can eat our free lunch.  But don’t despair.  We’ll be back by 6 for our half price dinner.

You all know we fear being laid off from the Bank of No Forks any time now since we now have almost nothing to do (if you’re a person who likes the truth, you can take the word “almost” out).  Over the last weeks we keep receiving emails about personal growth – seriously.  They have titles like “Career Planning” and “How to Write a Resume”.  Generally, we ignore this type of communication because we want to keep pretending all is well – you know how we like our fiction . . .

Coincidentally, the president of Target resigned this week.  While we feel sorry for him and hope he got some career planning and resume writing in before he left, what we really want to know is where do we apply for his job?  If anyone can run Target, it’s the Quill Sisters.  We know where everything is, we have ideas for quality (For god sake, sew the seams straight on the designer capsule collections!), and leave the customers alone until they ASK for help.

We brushed up our resumes and sent the following cover letter:

Dear Target People,

We have attached our resumes for the now vacant president position.  Feel free to pay them no mind because our real qualifications include the fact that you will get two of us for the price of one (we truly don’t mind splitting the salary and bonus), we know nothing about technology and can’t be blamed by the media for any further security breaches, and we look great in “Target Red”.

If we don’t hear from you by Friday, we’ll just assume we have the job and will be in early on Monday, around 10ish.

Thank you –

The Target Sisters

Ava likes to share her mental disorders with her teenage children.  She thinks it helps them deal with being moody in a, “Wow, we’re moody with our teenage problems no one understands, not even other teenagers, but our mother is nuts and therefore, we’re going to be okay.” Or something like that.

In elementary school, Ava had a teacher who taught the class how to make paper snowflakes.  One of the instructions was to never cut off the “magic point” or the snowflake would fall apart.  It didn’t take Ava long to realize this part of the instructions was total horse poop.  You can cut the tip-off all you wanted and nothing happens.  The MAGIC part was actually one of the sides.  If you cut the entire side off – then it would fall apart.  How could a teacher mess-up such an important life skill?  She dwells on this ’til this very day.

Now you’re wondering why this old traumatic memory has returned to Ava’s life.  That would be Pinterest’s fault.  Not a day goes by without yet another set of instructions on how to make snowflakes.  Who knew the world was so lacking in the xmas paper arts that the instructions are needed daily under “Holiday Decor”.  But – there you have it.

Upon hearing of his mother’s distress from the past, the boy says, “Had you paid attention in Calculus! you would have been able to explain the principle covering this effect to her.”  (Note on the word Calculus! – every time the boy says this word he’s excited and we always picture it in our heads with a capital C and an exclamation point.)  Next he says “The rear differential being in the fifth house of the timed amoeba . . . blah, blah, blah.”  Okay, he didn’t really say that but who listens when someone is about to tell you a Calculus! principle?  You only kept reading because you wanted to know if Ava actually listened and now you know she didn’t.  No one tell the boy.

And, there’s the difference between the Sisters and their own children – emotional issues with paper cutouts and Calculus!  The next time someone asks the Sisters to craft something we’re going to use the Theory of Relativity and go take a nap while we get those too smart kids to make party favors from chemicals and Calculus!

The Sisters fixate on the darndest things.  Last week it was killer underground volcanoes and this week it’s glass.  And water.  It fascinates the Sisters no end that glass is liquid.  Except it’s not.  No one looking at or touching glass thinks it’s liquid.  It’s hard and does not fall into a puddle in the window frame.  However, after centuries, the glass at the bottom of the window is fatter than the glass at the top of the window.  Ed insists this is correct having worked on 200+-year-old homes.

The Sisters:  Did you measure it or eye-ball it?

Ed: I’m not having this discussion with the two of you.  The last time we discussed scientific facts I was afraid to go to sleep that night thinking you’d found a way to obtain activated plutonium.  (Dear FBI – we have not.)

The Sisters:  Fine.  We have questions about water but we’re not going to ask you, Ed!  We’re going to ask Amy’s husband.  (That’ll teach him . . . )

It turns out that Amy’s husband doesn’t take our calls anymore.  We got this text: Just talked to Ed.  No opinion on water or liquid glass for that matter.

Here’s what we really want to know:  Forgetting evaporation – If you put water in a glass and wait 500 years are you left with a pool of water?  Or a really short squaty glass with water in it?  We need to know.