Tuesday, April 29, 2008

ESPN (not another peein' story!)


This is Drew getting an autograph from a very famous person.

Apparently.

Drew had a bout with the flu which came with fever which turned into cabin fever, so we went out for breakfast yesterday. Matt told us that he had heard about a place on ESPN called The Broken Egg, and it sounded like it wasn't too far from our house.

The waitress asked us how we found them, and Drew said we heard about it on ESPN. Which is true, in a roundabout way. She said, "Oh yes, Mr. Vitale! He's right over there having breakfast and he would be happy to sign autographs and have his picture made with you!"

Which was great except that, well, we had no idea who Mr. Vitale was or what he looked like. She could see our blank stares and then she said, "He's the older gentleman over there...gray hair on the sides/bald on the top."

We leaned across the table to get a look. Here's the problem with that description. Every other man in Florida is an older gentleman with gray hair on the sides/bald on top. The other ones have bad toupees.

I know this because my sister detests toupees. She can spot 'em a mile away. In fact, she began to make a little "I Spy" game out of it with the boys from a very early age. "Rug alert 2:00!"

It was whispered with as little pointing and snickering as possible.

I chalked it up to aunt/nephew bonding time, and became impressed with the boys' ability to comment on hairy situations accurately. And in an age of digital clocks, I thought it helped them learn to tell time as well.

Matt didn't seem to get into it as much as Scott did. Scott had the gift. I'm not saying I'm proud of that...I'm just sayin'. He never got the whispering part down very well, so we learned new games to play in public.

Anyway, after making phone calls to the boys and being reassured that they would indeed like an autograph from Mr. Basketball, we bought a couple of his books and he signed mini basketballs for them.

He also threw in a couple of posters of himself with girls from Hooters and asked who I wanted him to personalize them for. When I said I couldn't think of anyone right off hand, he said, "Well take them and you can give them to whoever you want!"

So! John S.(preacher) and David B.(ACU Bible major), I have a couple of posters for you. Not to worry, I drew turtle neck sweaters on the girls so you can hang it in your church office or dorm room.

I heard the man is being inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame. Who new?

Awesome, Baby!

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

European or You're a Peein'?

Baby Mark and I were at Sam's last week.

He needed to be changed so I rolled the basket toward the restroom area. I saw the changing table right away, but didn't want to haul the infant seat, diaper bag, and my purse all the way in there, so I just grabbed the baby, diaper, wipes and changing pad, and covered the rest with my denim jacket. I could see the shopping basket over my shoulder.

We were halfway through the change when I heard a deep voice say, "Well, a woman's in there now...!" I turned and looked at the row of urinals behind me and then looked at the older gentleman standing by my basket.

"Am I in the Men's room?! I am so sorry... I'm a new grandmother and ..."

"I don't mind if you don't!" he declared, and in he walked.

"I, uh, technically we qualify to be in here since he's a boy..."

He walked to the back of the restroom and began to take care of business.

...tinkle, tinkle, tinkle...tinkle tinkle "How old is the little fella?" tinkle...

"Four months," I said. tinkle, tinkle, tinkle...tinkle, tinkle, tinkle

"Got some of those myself," tinkle, tinkle "They sure get sweet about six (tinkle, *big sigh* tinkle) months." tinkle, tinkle

Drip, drip,




Drip.

Meanwhile I've gone into warp speed wiping Mark's little bottom and trying to get out of there before I make eye contact with the man.

In his defense, I have to say, that at this point in my life, if I have to go and there is a bathroom in sight...I'm standing right there beside Mr. Tinkles, so to speak.

Sometimes it isn't easy to tell which door is which. Or they are trying to be clever with the names, so before you know it, you've confused senor with senora, and there you go.

I think there must be hidden cameras by those doors, just to catch our reactions and expressions as we realize we've made a mistake.

This time, I just wasn't paying attention.

Has this ever happened to you?

Tuesday, April 08, 2008

"I hav ur keys..."

I just arrived in home from a trip to Texas. Spent 10 days loving on little Mark and his parents, then flew to Lubbock to be at a luncheon honoring my mother. In the meantime, Drew flew to D.C. and Mexico City.

This time, Drew left my car at the Tampa airport with specific instructions telling me where it was parked. I was getting back Friday afternoon, and he was coming in late Saturday night. I would have the car to go home and could go back to pick him up. We had done this before and it worked out well.

My SWA flight from Lubbock stopped in Dallas and Houston. I decided to check my messages, and there in the texting spot was a message from my sister in Lubbock.

"I hav ur keys..."

I replied, "r u kiding me?"


She found them in the back of her car. Neither of us could figure out how they got back there...although it really didn't matter at that point. She immediately sent them priority mail, but that meant they would arrive in Florida Monday at the earliest. My flight was due to arrive Friday at 3:00.

A couple of my friends from church work in Tampa and live in St. Petersburg, so I tried calling them before they left for the day, but missed them. Asking anyone to come across Tampa Bay and back on a Friday afternoon was crazy, so I just took a cab home.

We had hidden a house key just in case, and I was able to get in. Since Drew's car was here, I found his extra key (in his dresser, just in case) and had transportation. He just drove himself home from the airport in my car.

There's nothing funny or creative about this story. (Well, except it reminds me that I had friends from college who thought they were having a girl, but decided they needed a boy's name, just in case. The more they thought about it, the more they liked the name Justin Case. They named him Justin, but I'm pretty sure they chose a different middle name.)

Anyway, I always had a key hidden under the bumper of the Suburban, just in case, but my new car has funky bumpers, and I never got around to hiding one. You might want to put that on your list of things to do today.

I have this vision of God holding the keys to the Kingdom, and being a bit reluctant to trust me with them. Drew was sweet about it, but I am still so frustrated with myself.

So, Lord, if you don't mind, would you make me copies and hide a set for me just outside the gate?

Just in case.

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