This is the best thing that’s been on tv for months.

You’re welcome.

We’re not AWOL although it feels like it. We’ve been drowning in our day jobs. This month has kicked our asses to an epic degree. Amylynn has actually been leaving work at 7pm and taking her computer home to do another 4 or 5 hours after everyone has gone to bed.

It’s been horrendous. We’ve been promised that the end is near. We sure as hell hope so because our grip on our “good” attitude is tenuous at best.

Ava found this on her desk calendar and it scared the bejezus out of us. She then promptly showed it to every single person in our office because this isn’t something you should have to know on your own.

Who was the person who first tasted this and thought, “Hmmmmmm – raspberry-ish.”

Was there a bet involved, do you suppose? Some old French beaver trapper made a wagered with some Native American dude? We’ll bet very strong alcohol was involved. If not, then it should have been.

This of course led us to wonder how come raspberry-flavored stuff is always blue. Now you can add to that philosophical question how come blue if beavers are brown? To the best of our knowledge, there have never been blue beavers. Although how cool would that be, huh? Blue beavers. It’s probably best they’re not blue because then we’d want one of those, too.

There are days when we’re certain we have no idea how the world works.

I agreed to be a chaperon for Sassy’s 4th grade field trip to a bowling alley. In case you don’t remember, 4th graders are 10 years old. Ten year-old girls are highly emotional people. It’s just as they get to the cusp of teenagers – those deadly tween years. I don’t remember being this emotional when I was ten, but what the hell do I know. That was 34 years ago.

I have no idea how anything in my life can be 34 years ago, but there you have it. I had the same realization last week in California when I realized I hadn’t been to Knott’s Berry Farm since I went for my 8th grade graduation. That was 30 years ago. Holy shit, I’m old. And my feet hurt. And I had to get reading glasses this year. It’s only a matter of time before I’m complaining about bursitis or gout and yelling for kids to get off my lawn. Well, at kids besides my own.

A N Y W A Y. My age issues are not the point of this blog.

I arrived at the school with the rest of the kids and we promptly climbed aboard the school bus bound for the bowling alley. Just so you know, school buses smell exactly the way you remember them. Like feet and smelly boys. So you’re thrilled to get off the bus at your destination and gasp fresh air only to walk inside the bowling alley to a worse stench. Older feet and smellier boys. And other people’s shoes. And burnt coffee. That lovely potpourri does not encourage you to breath deeply, I assure you.

Even though it doesn’t have anything to do with the children, there was a guy there with three women’s names tattooed on his neck. When I texted this to Ava she told me not to judge – they were very likely his wife and two daughters. That could have been true, except two of the three names were crossed out. I swear to Zeus.

We eventually got all the kids in rented shoes. It took awhile because there was not a single child with us who knew what size shoes they wore. Then all the

Hey! Ava and I are excitable people. That’s not the same is it?

kids made little teams of themselves and we got them signed into the scoring computers. Then I got to sit back and watch the show like Marlin Perkins on Wild Kingdom.

Every time one of the girls would knock down a pin, all the rest of the girls would squeal and there be a 12 minute hugging session reminiscent of the Academy Awards. As you can imagine very little bowling was actually accomplished until they got that out of their systems. Fairly early on, the alley people put up the gutter bumpers. If they hadn’t, I can assure you there would have been NO pins knocked down. As it was, it was more like watching an enormous pinball game than bowling.

The child would pick up the world lightest bowling ball – weighing in somewhere between lint and yarn – and hold it in front of her. Then she’d run full tilt up the lane only to come to a complete stop at the line, pause, then fling the ball down the lane with zero finesse. The ball would pinball in the vaguest direction of the pins, bouncing off the gutters as many as five times, careening back and forth, before it would gently tap a pin.

There was a brief moment of epic drama when one of the girls thought the other girls were talking about her behind her back. Copious tears and wailing and then, just as quickly, everyone was back to hugging.

It made my head spin.

All that aside, it was better than being at work.

Next week I agreed to go with The Bandit on their bowling field trip.

That should be truly outstanding with blog fodder. I anticipate less drama and more shenanigans. Stay tuned.

Hey! I did an interview over at Much Cheaper Than Therapy today. I wrote a little piece on family history. Remember I wrote it so it’s not like it’s a Hallmark card or anything.

Pop over and have a read. You’ll have fun. Leave a comment and you’ll secure your place in Heaven. Or if not Heaven, then Starbucks.

I’ll have you know that we made it to Disneyland in one piece. Or five pieces as the case may be since there are five of us. We left the house at 3:20 in the morning. Or the evening. I’m not even sure what to call that time of darkness. I don’t really consider it the next day until there is sun to confirm it.

Even though we packed last night, everyone seems to have arrived with the requisite amount of stuff. Since we drove that means WAY. TOO. MUCH. STUFF. We were indiscriminate. Sassy brought one bag entirely of shoes. That’s how I know for sure she’s my kid.

I brought two pairs of shoes. The tennis shoes my foot doctor insisted on with the $800 prescription orthotics and my Birkenstock’s that he frowns on. After six hours my feet HURT. They really hurt and I wore his shoe selection today. When I get back I’m going to clock my dear old podiatrist right in the nose. Don’t worry though, I’ll power through with the assistance of powerful anti-inflammatory drugs and chocolate.

And maybe wine and whine.

Also, just as an aside. Our hotel has a bus stop in front of it – directly in front of the entrance to Disneyland. I’m telling you this is the best bus stop in the entire world for people watching. There are the most outrageous characters making that bus stop their home. If it wasn’t completely inappropriate, I’d include pictures but that’s mean spirited and I AM at the happiest place on earth so you’ll just have to trust me on this.

More tomorrow.

XOXO

Amylynn