Capital P

Well, this is a sad day.

I feel like I’ve forgotten how to construct sentences over the last three days and, therefore, actual paragraphs may be entirely out of my reach. I’m not sure what has happened, but it would appear my brain has officially gone over to the summer side.

My point is this may officially be the blog post that describes how I did my laundry and separated the whites from the darks and, OH, did I mention that I washed a tube of Chapstick and a Kit Kat?

(Just so you know, the Chapstick washed fairly well. The Kit Kat? Not so much.)

So it’s been a busy few days around here. On Friday night, P went hog hunting because a group from our church is heading to Joplin, MO this week and wanted to provide some meals while they are there. And P is always willing to shoot something for a good cause. Or even no cause. He’s not really particular.

While he was out hunting and gathering, Caroline and I went to eat Mexican food with Mimi and Bops and my sister and her family. And then we came home and watched some truly terrible animated movie that she found at Redbox. I can’t even remember the name and, trust me, you don’t want to know. I guarantee you haven’t seen it. And if you have you don’t want to be reminded.

Saturday morning we all slept late. Which means P slept until 7:30 and Caroline and I slept until 9:45. We had a lazy morning around the house and ended up at the pool later that afternoon. We didn’t order any food, but we did get popsicles since they are pretty hard to screw up. Later that night, we went to a post-wedding party for our friends Stewart and Hannah who got married two weeks ago. We had the best time hanging out with friends we haven’t seen in a long time.

(Also, total side note but Stewart and Hannah got married by the river, flew off to Greece for two weeks for their honeymoon and then came home and had a reception. THAT is how you get married.)

I totally overslept and missed church on Sunday morning which is totally worthless but I’m being honest. We’d been out until midnight the night before and I had to take out my dentures and tend to my rheumatism and I was tired. It’s not easy having all that carefree fun.

Caroline was invited to a birthday party at the roller skate rink on Sunday that was supposed to be a drop off party. However, once I walked in and realized half of San Antonio was also at the skating rink, I didn’t feel like I could just leave her there with minimal supervision. Especially because there seemed to be an inordinate number of older men there by themselves who were very eager to participate in the ADULTS ONLY backwards skate.

(It would have been good to know I was staying at the party because then I might have chosen attire other than my rattiest running shorts and slightly holey t-shirt. Also, the bun on top of my head was a nice touch.)

First of all, I don’t feel like we really need to have an ADULTS ONLY backwards skate on a Sunday afternoon. And, secondly, it made me feel like some of them might have a white, paneled creeper van out in the parking lot filled with candy.

Call me paranoid but I am just suspicious about grown men at the skating rink with no children. P would never go to the skating rink alone and participate in the ADULTS ONLY backwards skate. The fast skate FOR SURE, but not the backwards skate.

(I’m just kidding. I’ve never seen P roller skate. Although I’m sure he did back in the days of junior high to impress the ladies.)

Anyway, I ended up staying at the skating rink for the entire party and listened to more than my fill of Lady Ga-Ga until it was time for us to head home so we could get ready for a dinner party with some friends. And so we went to dinner with friends, came home and put Caroline to bed because she started a week of day camp yesterday and we didn’t want her to frighten the counselors with the DON’T ANGER IT thing she can get going if she’s overtired.

Yesterday morning I dropped her off at camp and then tried to remember what I do when I have free time. Ultimately, I threw caution to the wind and went to the grocery store AND the bank. I know. I am the wind beneath your wings.

After I ran all my errands, I came home and discovered that P had thrown down the chandelier gauntlet. You probably don’t know what I mean by that because I don’t know what I mean by that. But he had hung the chandelier I bought for Caroline’s room. Granted, I bought the chandelier at a garage sale back in September so he’s had a full nine and a half months but, still, it made me feel like I needed to do something productive.

(I realize this isn’t a great picture of the chandelier, but I couldn’t get a picture with it actually on because THE BRIGHTNESS WAS VERY BRIGHT.)

(Also, if you have any thoughts on how I could make that chain more attractive, feel free to share them. I realize we could hardwire it, but let’s not pretend that will happen in the next five years.)

I felt like I should do something productive around the house, yet I didn’t want it to involve actual cleaning products. So I decided to organize Caroline’s Wii games and movies that are all just piled in the bottom of our armoire. Which is how I discovered a long-forgotten stockpile of VHS tapes in the armoire drawers.

All of which belonged to P.

And had been there for the last twelve or so years after he assured me they were very important and he would continue to enjoy his “movie library” for many years to come.

Here’s a look at his extensive collection.

Obviously, “The Buck Stops Here” is a classic. As is “Monster Bucks VI” which everyone knows was SO MUCH BETTER than “Monster Bucks V”.

But it felt like it was time to let them go. Especially in light of the fact that we haven’t owned a VCR in five years.

Oh, and “Hope Floats” may have been mine because P doesn’t really watch a lot of chick movies.

He’s way too busy practicing his fast skate for the roller rink.

Well, well, well. Look who got her computer back.

It’s me. I got my computer back.

Just in case there was any confusion.

As it turned out, the Geniuses were able to just pop on a new piece of plastic around my keyboard and a new piece of plastic around my screen and now she’s as good as new except for the fact that it sounds like a herd of heavy-breathing gerbils is running around on the inside of the computer. Also, they weren’t able to fix my CD/DVD drive without me shelling out substantially more cash than I wanted to shell out on a four year old computer, but a girl can’t have everything.

I’m like the Apostle Paul. He totally learned to be content without a computer that could burn CDs.

In other news, P got back in town yesterday. You may be thinking that you didn’t even know he was gone and you’re right. Thanks to new heightened security measures around here, it didn’t seem wise to mention that my husband, the one with several guns, was out of town. But now he’s back home and has no intentions of ever leaving again for at least the next three days.

And I’m so glad he’s back so I can sit next to him on the couch in the evenings and listen to him complain about his homemade vanilla milkshake while I eat a sugar-free popsicle that tastes like cold, cherry-flavored cardboard.

P said he heard somewhere (I have no idea where, but I’m sure from an “expert”) that drinking a vanilla milkshake after dinner helps with acid reflux. And we are ALWAYS on the lookout for something that helps with acid reflux so that we don’t have to mine for diamonds to pay for Nexium twice a day. So, as of about two weeks ago, he makes himself a vanilla milkshake after dinner every night.

Also, as of about two weeks ago, I decided it was time for me to start thinking about the reality of wearing a swimsuit in a little over a month. Hence, the sugar-free popsicle aka the dessert of no fun.

As we sat on the couch last week, I turned to him as he slurped down the last of his shake and asked, “How was your milkshake?”

“Fine, I guess. As good as a vanilla milkshake can be.”

As good as a vanilla milkshake can be.

Bless his heart.

You know what’s better than a vanilla milkshake? NOT A SUGAR-FREE POPSICLE. And do you know which one of us can lose ten pounds in three days just by cutting down to half a box of Nilla Wafers every day? NOT ME.

Then, to add insult to injury, Sunday night he went to the fridge to make his vanilla milkshake and discovered we just barely had enough milk to make half a milkshake. I told him we had chocolate milk and suggested he make a chocolate milkshake, but he said that totally defeats the purpose because the chocolate is bad for his acid reflux. I just nodded my head and murmured something deeply sympathetic and heartfelt about his half a milkshake plight that I may or may not be able to repeat on this website.

And then, AND THEN, he walked into the living room with a handful of Kit-Kats and proceeded to EAT THEM while he waited for his half a vanilla milkshake to melt down enough for him to drink it with a straw. He didn’t even catch the glare I gave him as I picked up his Kit Kat wrappers and threw them in the trash. Probably because by that time he was immersed in suffering through his vanilla milkshake.

The vanilla milkshake that helps with the reflux that might, MIGHT, be caused by eating five miniature Kit Kats.

Not that I’m bitter about any of this. The six grapes I had for dessert last night were DELICIOUS.

Anyway, the real point was to tell you that P left on Sunday to go on a quick hunting trip with a couple of friends. This is the same hunting trip that bestowed this gift on our household.

The antelope of the Lord.

Before he walked out the door to leave, I kissed him goodbye and reminded him that our household could not support another large antelope head. I may have said that if he came home with one, he would have to choose between me and the antelope and he said “Ha, ha, you’re so funny!” and I had to explain, “I’m not joking around, Marlon Perkins. No more antelope heads.”

But somehow I didn’t feel any better when he texted me Monday night to let me know he hadn’t shot an antelope. Mainly because this picture was attached to his text.

(Those are rattlesnakes. P is six feet tall. Also, he’d already cut off their heads.)

If one of those shows up in some sort of dead animal tribute in our living room, I won’t move out. I’ll burn the place to the ground.

And then where will P sit and force down his vanilla milkshakes?