Not me, nor my Husband: Airport Edition.

On Friday night, February 19th,  we dropped all four kids off with my parents.

I did not feel one bit guilty about leaving my FOUR children behind.

No.

Not I.

We stopped at Borders to pick up some books for the Lumberjack.

Yes.

Lumberjacks enjoy reading.

I was not shocked and aghast when my husband spent $45 on books.

Nor was I secretly glad that I had found a book for myself at the library.

Interruption:  Attention Melissa K and Mindy from the Suburban Life:

I LOVED THESE IS MY WORDS: THE DIARY OF SARAH AGNES PRINE!

Thank you for recommending it!

The Lumberjack and I then returned home to our kid-free and dog-free house.

I did not think it was too quiet.

I did not help the Lumberjack eat two bags of popcorn.

Nor did I encourage him to go to the gas station to get us some sodas.

And I most certainly did not help him eat a king-sized Hershey's with Almonds bar.

And do not even assume that I did not do my 8-minute abs.

Interruption:  Well, darn it all!  I am confused again.  These silly not-me posts get me all discombobulated.

The Lumberjack and I decided we needed to leave our house by 3:45am to make it to the airport on time.

I did not accidently lose track of time while grooming myself and neglect to wake my husband up until 3:40am.

Hey.

Looking this good does not come easily.

The Lumberjack did not pretend to not be annoyed at me.

Hello?

Did I lose you on that one?

I fear I lost myself.

We drove to the airport.

It was dark.

And cold.

And that's all there is to say about that.

The Lumberjack dropped me off with the luggage.

I did not have trouble hauling our suitcases inside.

We certainly did not overpack.

Now, all kidding aside, I get extremely nervous when it comes to all this kind of stuff.

I have been going over the airport routine in my head over and over again for the past few weeks.

Check and re-checking passports, ID's, ticket times, etc.

I remembered to not wear a belt.

I am all about a quick and smooth security check time.

Now, my Lumberjack . . . he is not a worrier.

This is good.

And bad.

Allow me to explain as I jump back into the Not me! mode:

I did not breathe a sigh of relief when I passed through all security check points with flying colors.

Quite honestly, I was not surprised.

I was prepared.

But then . . . I did not hear the security guard say to my husband:

 "I need you to step aside, sir."

And then, that same security guard did not usher my husband into a separate glass booth where he was taken in for further patting down and embarrassment.

And I most certainly did not hear another security guard shout,

"Whose backpack is this?"

I did not timidly raise my hand and say,

"Well, that's my husband's, sir."

I did not fear for my life as 2 security guards took my husband's backpack to an investigatory table.

I was cool and collected.

Finally, the Lumberjack was released and joined me as we watched the security team dismantle our blue North Face backpack.

After much hushed discussion, one security guard  did not hold up a black, long object and say:

"Sir, we cannot allow you to take this on the plane."

The Lumberjack did not look extremely embarrassed and say, "Oh, that's fine."

And I did not say, "What is that?"

The Lumberjack did not try to hush me.

Oh, no.

He knows that I do not like to be hushed.

It is one of the many reasons why I have this here blog.

I am anti-hushing.

"What is the problem?" I did not ask.

I know when to leave well-enough alone.

"Shhhhh!"

Oh, he did not try to hush me again.

And he most certainly did not try and hush me at 4:50 IN THE MORNING WHILE WE WERE BEING INVESTIGATED BY AIRPORT SECURITY ON THE MORN OF THE DAY WE WERE SUPPOSED TO FLY INTO A FOREIGN A COUNTRY.

No.

Not my husband.

Now, before we continue, let me offer up some history on this particular blue North Face backpack.

The last time this backpack was used was for fishing adventures.

Oh, yes.

Fishing adventures.

And before the Lumberjack filled it with the laptop, DVDs, and his $45 in books, he emptied out his fishing gear.

Or so he thought.

"Why are they not letting you take that on the plane?  What was it?"

The Lumberjack did not get frustrated at me.

No.

Not him.

"It was a knife!  It was my fillet knife!  For fishing!"

Yes.

You heard me right.

He packed a knife, folks.

And at this time, I would like to highlight just how different my husband and I are.

You see, I am so worried about this particular morning that I opt to not even wear a belt, as I know it is rattles airport security.

But my husband, as easy-going as he is, neglected to remove a 10-inch form of weaponry from his carry-on luggage.

*sigh*

What will I do with this man?

*sigh*

I was not looking over my shoulder for the remainder of the day, just waiting for federal agents to take us down.

No.

Not me.

Nor, was I annoyed at my husband when he had the nerve to mutter under his breath,

"There goes $40."

Nope.

Not me.

P.S.-Boo, Lumberjack.

Boo.

Boo.

Boo.

P.P.S-I am happy to report that we did not get arrested and we happily made it to Cancun that very evening.

Hooray, Lumberjack!

Hooray!

But . . .seriously, Lumberjack.

Boo.

Home again!

Hello, everyone!

Thank you all for participating in my Neener Neener contest!

The winner, according to random.org, was Angela!

Angela, I will email you.

Congrats, Angela!

A $25 Starbucks giftcard is on its way to you!

*******

We returned late last night around 1 am.

I guess I should say we returned early this morning at 1 am.

But I won't.

We had a lovely time, but started missing the kids by about Wednesday.

And it didn't help then when we called home, the girls were crying saying how much they missed us.

And Little Dude was being a naughty tike.

And Handsome Dude had lost his glasses and his sister's.

And Handsome Dude was covered head to toe in hives.

I decided the kids are too much a part of us now and life just isn't the same without them.

We would just keeping commenting on which child would enjoy what and how much fun they would have.

*Breaking News*

The Lumberjack and I look fabulously young in Mexico.

Not so much in America.

But in Mexico . . . we look like we have discovered the Fountain of Youth.

We were stopped at least 12 times, because inquiring Mexicans needed to know:

"Hola! Are you honeymooners?"

"No, we are not."

"What are you celebrating?"

"Our anniversary! 10 years!"

"No!  You are too young!"

"Oh, thanks!  But, really. . .10 years!"

"No!  How old are you?"

"29."

Interruption:  They would only ask the Lumberjack how old he was.

Apparently, my age was trivial.

Well, Mexico.

That's sexual harassment.

And I don't have to take it.

"And I'm 28!"

I would not be left out.

"Muy bien!  Muy bien!  Very young!"

And that exact conversation repeated itself at least 12 times.

I mean, just look at us:

A couple of spring chickens, I tell you.

*sigh*

Boy, did we have some trouble with the language barrier.

We wanted to ask kind passersbys if they could help us out and take our picture.

But, alas.

We could never find anyone who spoke English.

And, even if they looked like they could speak English, they usually didn't.

And we no habla espanol.

So, we sat down and had a long talk with our camera's self-timer function.

Because, apparently, we feel that will be easier than trying to communicate with the other humans nearby.

My, oh my!

Aren't I a bonita chica?

Win!

Oh, wait.

My eyes are closed.

Fail.

First, let me inform you that our goal was to show the beautiful blue water and us in color at the same time.

Clearly, it was not working out for us.

Clearly.

What am I wearing?

Why, I am glad you asked!

I have always been a trend setter, you know.

Let's see . . .

These photos were taken on Friday, day 6.

So, I want everyone to take into account that fact that we have had unlimited food and drinks accessible to us all day long at our fingertips for 6 straight days.

And, I like food.

I like it.  I like it, a lot.

(Name that movie.  It's a tough one.  But I have faith in one of you.)

 

Oh, dear.

Something has gone dreadfully wrong with my post.

I cannot double space.

Nor, can I get it out of italics.

And I am too tired to care.

 

What was I talking about?

Oh, yes.

What I was wearing.

Well.

I was wearing a very loose, elastic-waist banded skirt.

White tank.

Blue tee.

Creme hoodie.

Flip flops.

Earrings.

 

Yes.

I am a fashion icon.

Drool if you must.

 

 

Oops.

 

 

Awesome.

 

 

 

Hmmmm . . . .

 

 

Well . . .

 

 

Okay.

 

That's about enough of that.

 

Yes.

I am still typing in italics.

 

Deal with it.

Shoot.

I can't center either.

 

Alright, starting tomorrow, I will recap our grand adventure day by day.

 

It will be full of excitement!

 

It will be full of adventure!

 

It will be full of

random locals giving the Lumberjack bunny ears.

 

Poor, Lumberjack.

Tis hard to look macho when a man wearing a necklace and has his eyebrow pierced is giving you bunny ears.

Happy Sunday!

 

P.S.- 100 (meaningless) points to anyone who can help me get this out of italics.

Yes.

I hit ctrl I.

Yes.

I hit ctrl I again.

Yes.

I hit the I button next to the B.

Yes.

I am an idiot.

 

Neener Neener Giveaway

Yes.

I get to go away and you don't.

And to that, I say "Neener Neener."

Listen:

Sheldon Cooper Neener Neener sound bite  

Name that tv show.

HILarious.

Any-who . . .

Yes, I am leaving for Cancun, child-free, for one full week.

Crazy, I know.

And in celebration of that fact, I thought I would offer up a little giveaway.

My first giveaway, to be exact.

This will be my 198th published post.

Shoot.

So close to 200.

I do, in fact, have 268 total posts.

Velly Intellesting.

(Name that blogger)

Yes.

I have several previously published posts from the days of yore (like last June and July) when I used to use my family's actual names.

Unfortunately, I had a breach in security and had to pull the plug on the blog for a bit.

So, the only people who probably read those posts were the 4 people who read my blog back then.

And I knew exactly who they were:  Melissa, Sharyl, Lani, and Jessy.

Hi, girls!

Thanks for being such dedicated readers!

Don't be jealous of my 4 readers, dear friends.

Jessy, Melissa, and Sharyl are of the same kin.

And Lani is my friend.

So no need to be jealous over my fame.

You'll get your 4 dedicated readers someday, too.

All in good time, my dears.

All in good time.

And, I am quite certain Jessy hasn't read this blog since October-ish.

She may have gotten sick of me.

What?!

I know.

Hard to believe.

I am thinking that I might need new material?

Jessy?

Jessy?

Yes.

I fear I've lost Jessy.

100 (meaningless) points to anyone who can find Jessy and bring her back.

The Lumberjack's Wife leaves no man behind.

Anyways, I was trying to make it to my 200th published post and do a combination of a "200th post celebration" and a "Neener Neener I get to go on vacation and you don't" kind of giveaway.

But 198th sounds good, too.

Now, don't be expecting some elaborate giveaway prize.

PUH-lease.

I am, however, offering a $25 giftcard to Starbucks.

Holla!

And I am offering ways for you to get multiple entries.

Cause I'm awesome like that.

Leave a comment for each one you are eligible for:

1)  Just a comment for your first entry.  This can be about whatever you wish.

Can't think of anything to talk about?

Rhode Island is neither a road or an island.

Discuss.

(Name that actor)

2)  Give yourself an extra entry if you follow me or start following me in any form (Facebook, a reader, email subscription,  etc)

3)  Give yourself an extra entry if you have shared or are willing to share this blog with a friend (just pass along the link or you could blog about it)

Really.

The choice is yours.

4)  Give yourself an extra entry if you have me or are putting me on your blogroll.

5)  Give yourself an extra entry if you can name any of my little "Name that ______" questions.

This contest is open from now until Saturday, February 27th, 2010.

 I will announce the winner sometime on Sunday, February 28th.

And on that note . . .

Goodbye!

Farewell!

I will miss you!

Later, dudes and dudettes!

What if . . .

What if we forget our passports?

What if they don't recognize us?

What if we look like suspicious persons?

Do we look like suspicious persons?

What if there is something wrong with the plane?

Was I supposed to get shots?

I didn't.

What if we sleep in and miss our flight?

What if our car breaks down on the way to the airport?

What if I forget something important?

I have to bring my own shampoo.

Otherwise my hair will get too greasy.

Gross.

What if I am the only girl on the beach who is not wearing a bikini?

Fact:  I do not, I repeat, I do not need to be revealing my tummy regions.

What if I am the only girl on the beach who has to worry about tummy regions?

What if I get lost?

It looks big:

What if we lose our room key?

What if I eat too much?

How much weight will I gain?

There are like 10 restaurants there.

And I greatly enjoy food.

What if the Lumberjack is always falling asleep?

Who will I talk to?

What if the kids are naughty for my mom and dad?

What if my mom forgets to do head counts while at the grocery store?

What if my mom tries to take all of them to the grocery store?

Will she ever forgive me?

What if our dog runs away?

What if our house floods while we are gone?

Interruption:  My sister-in-law, Lisa's, house flooded once while she was on vacation. 

She is one of those "thorough" house-cleaning people and was mopping behind her fridge, or something lame like that, the day before she left.

When she pushed the fridge back, she did something to a water line and water started pouring into the kitchen for the ENTIRE WEEK THEY WERE GONE.

What is the lesson to be learned here?

Do not be an overachiever and clean pointless areas like the flooring behind your fridge.

Who cares?

This concludes our interruption.

What if I cry and miss the kids and then my husband gets annoyed at me?

Fact:  The Lumberjack does, upon occasion, get annoyed at me.

What?!

I know.

Hard to believe.

What if we run out of things to talk about?

7 days.

7 whole days.

7  whole days without kids.

It's been about 10 years . . .

What more is there to say?

Fact:  The Lumberjack is not chatty.

Fact:  The Lumberjack's Wife is quite chatty.

Quite.

500 (meaningless) points to anyone who can come up with things we can talk about.

What if I get a sunburn?

What if I don't get tan.

What a waste.

What if it rains the whole time?

What if I forgot something important?

What if I miss my kids?

What if, just what if, I even miss . . .

this Handsome Dude and his glasses.

Speaking of which . . . .

where are his glasses?

I have been looking EVERYWHERE for the past couple of days.

1 million (meaningless) points to anyone who know where his stupid glasses are!!!!!

 Happy Thursday!

 

Sweet girls and Sick boys

Want to see what my girls made me for Valentine's Day?

"To Mom.  I love you.  You are just right for me."

This one was a little bit trickier.

I cannot be certain . . . due to the excessive amount of unnecessary letters, but I believe it says something to the effect of:

"Mom.  I love you.  You are the best mom ever."

Homemade by Sweet Pea.

Homemade by Daisy Mae.

Look at what else Daisy Mae made at school:

I sincerely hope with all my heart that this drawing is not to scale.

Otherwise, I am huge.

And if I am indeed that much bigger than the Lumberjack, then why, pray tell, do I not wear the pants?

Answer me that.

How do I know I don't wear the pants?

Ummm . . . .

Well . . . .

Hmmm . . . . I can't quite put my finger on it, but . . .

Hmmm . . . it definitely seems like things don't always go  . . .

 . . . the way . . .

I might . . .

envision.

And, on a completely unrelated note, my boys are sick. 

Like fevers, coughing, vomiting, crying, whining, not sleeping, ear aches, and

snotty kind of sick.

And, in keeping with the tradition of random topics . . .

3 MORE DAYS!!!!!

Yes.

We are leaving for Cancun in 3 days.

If we don't die from the stress of all the things we have to do to get out of here first.

Happy Wednesday!

Not me! Valentine's Edition.

Alright, dudes and dudettes.

This is my 3rd attempt at Not me! Monday.

I was encouraged because I only got confused about 3 times while writing this post . . . . as opposed to being confused the entire time.

Let me know what you think!

***

I did not eat a double cheeseburger yesterday and tell myself it was my only option (actually, it was the best deal).

I did not tell myself it was low in points.

I did not tip a barista an extra dollar after I realized he hadn't noticed me put the first dollar in his tip jar.

I did not want to make sure he saw me tip him.

Nope.

Not me.

I would never tip $2 just to save my good name.

I do not secretly think it is RIDICULOUS to tip $1, let alone $2 on something that cost $3.

I do not secretly think that Lady Gaga's "Poker Face" is a catchy tune.

I do not admit that when I heard the lyrics I was shocked and  appalled.

I do not feel sad that I cannot listen to this song anymore.

Interruption: 

Normally I would not know who people such as Lady Gaga are.

For I live in a world where people enjoy the singing talents of Barney, the big purple dinosaur, and Meryle Haggard.

However . . .

One night, the Lumberjack and I were watching a show called Parks and Recreation.

And the main character, Leslie Knope had this Poker Face song stuck in her head.

Which, in turn, got stuck in my head.

And, on another completely unrelated note, my brother-in-law, Jason, thinks that I am just like Ms. Leslie Knope.

(Name that actress)

Boo, Jason.

Boo.

Ok. 

Back to the Not Me! post.

I do not watch and enjoy American Idol.

And I have never sang my prettiest in the shower, wondering if maybe I could ever be on that show?

No.

Not me.

I did not get just a little annoyed at my husband on Valentine's Day.

Why, you ask?

I'll tell you.

My husband did not tell me we were not getting each other Valentine's Day gifts only to get me a Valentine's gift.

(Confused?  I sure am)

I did not get embarrassed and say, "You dork!  I didn't get you anything!"

I did not consider writing a quick blog post asking my cyber friends what I could quickly get him.

I did not drag my daughter along on a shopping trip for unmentionables with me out of sheer desperation and poor time management skills.

Speaking of poor time management skills, I did not get my daughter to a birthday party 30 minutes late.

Nope.

Not me.

I am always punctual.

After I came home from shopping, I started making my husband's favorite dinner.

I did not tell myself it was low in points.

As he helped me prepare the meal, we both took turns holding our 3, yes count them 3, feverish children, and we listened to his ridiculous old-time country songs.

Oh, yes.

Songs like "Pancho and Lefty."

Name that artist.

I do not secretly like "Pancho and Lefty."

But what choice do I have?

This is my life.

I did not suggest that we have a family candlelight dinner.

And Handsome Dude did not freak out because the lights weren't on and insist on getting up throughout the entire meal to turn the lights back on.

And this did not make Sweet Pea upset and make her get up throughout the entire meal and turn them back off.

And Daisy Mae did not ask 25 times how she was supposed to see her food.

And I did not secretly think it was the most romantic Valentine's Day I have ever had.

At 5am on this very morn, I did not pretend not to hear Handsome Dude coughing really hard.

So hard, in fact, that I fear he may have thrown up.

I am not admitting that I have not even checked his bedding.

He is, of course, awake.

I mean it is 6:20am.

And he does not smell funky-town, so that's a good sign.

I did not get secretly excited that all next week I will be able to sleep in.

I did not get disappointed when I realized that because my children are sick, my Valentine's Day date with my favorite man who likes to fall trees will most likely be cancelled.

No.

Not me.

I am always happy to put my kids' needs first.

I did not remind myself that I should not lose heart!

Because . . . .

I AM NOT LEAVING FOR CANCUN IN T-5 DAYS!

And, to that,  I do not say "Holla!"

The End.

He.

He makes better chocolate chip cookies than I do.

But I make better mashed potatoes.

He always lets me have the most comfortable pillows.

He has received not one, but two new down pillows in the course of our marriage, and he has let me have not one, but both of them.

Because he just wants me to be quiet and go to sleep.

He bought a camp trailer with a shower for me.

Because he knew there was absolutely no way I would go a day without a shower.

For that is just wrong.

After I had my last knee surgery, I was sick from the anesthesia.  He quickly dumped out his soda and let me vomit into his cup.

And it was at that moment that I knew I would marry him.

He is the official dog-poo picker-upper.

And the official taker-of-the-garbage-can-to the-alley-person.

And it is for those two reasons alone that I keep him around.

Kidding!

He works long days to provide for us.

He has an unusal amount of belly-button lint.

He knows how to fix leaky faucets, change the oil, replace brakes, build a house, fall a tree, and clean out a chimney.

He does not, I repeat, does not know how to properly do a load of laundry.

But, by golly, at least he tries.

He is the fun dad who lets kids climb on his back, he twirls them around until they are sick, and he turns on his ridiculous old country songs and dances with them.

Yes.

You heard me correctly.

He dances.

He rarely ever comes home in a bad mood . . . even if he had a bad day at work.

Yet, I am in a bad mood if I haven't had my afternoon cup of coffee.

He's a good sport about all the teasing I do of him in this blog.

And I hope you all know that even though I do tease him, I love him to pieces.

He is a good dad to our four kids.

And yes, he regularly asks me why I wanted so many kids.

As if they were completely my own decision.

He is fun and makes sure our kids experience lots of dangerous and new adventures.

Yes, I constantly worry about safety.

Yes, it annoys him thoroughly when I inform him that he cannot do certain "unsafe" activities with our children.

Yes, he does it all anyways.

And I love him.

He loves getting his picture taken.

He chases our children with fish.

He tells our kids to kiss fish.

He loves, loves, loves it when I take pictures like this of him.

In fact, I am quite certain I remember him saying, "Taylor!  Take some pictures of me and Sweet Pea smooching!  Yes! And then, start a blog in a few months!  Yes! And put this picture in it for all your 10 followers to view!"

Yes.

That's how it went down.

He was smitten with me from the moment he met me.

Smitten, I tell you.

Which is why he married me when I was 12.

Yes.

I am that fantastic.

He did not want me to get away.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone!

Tell me what you love about your main squeeze.

 

 

Comment of the Week!

Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Wait for it . . .

Wait for it . . .

Drumroll please  . . .

The comment of the week for this, the second week of February in the year two-thousand and ten of our Lord goes to:

The Little Brown House with her comment on "High Five Good Buddy!"

"I believe the high five is a deep gesture of affection – and I am sure you were high five-d into this world….."

Thank you, Ms. Little Brown House.

Thank you!

I was so hoping I was only high-five-d into this world.

Phew.

You have put my mind at ease.

Now, I don't have to get the pee-pee shivers while thinking about it!

Go say Hi to Ms. Brown House.

She is the dear woman who "high-five'd"  Bimlissa into this world.

(You are welcome, Bimlissa)

Raise your hand if you heart Bimlissa.

Raise your hand if you have no idea who Bimlissa is.

Raise your hand if you think Ms. Brown House picks out terrible names for her children.

Oh, I crack myself up.

Without Bimlissa I would have no clothes to steal.

And, yes.

I have a whole suitcase full of Bimlissa clothes for my trip.

And, yes.

I am leaving in 7 days.

And, yes.

I am excited!

Happy Saturday!

High-Five, Good Buddy!

On Thursday, I wrote a post called, "Last Valentine's Day."

You remember.

The one where I learned my husband has taken several animal bodies to the dump?

Well, in the aforementioned post, I included a picture of my parents.

And I told you that the story behind that picture was a story for another day.

Guess what?

Today is that day.

So, my parent's were on this cruise for their 30th wedding anniversary.

Yikes!

They are old.

Anyways, as some of you might be aware, when you are on a cruise, you have the option to do little excursions.

Now, I was obviously not there.

No.

They left me and my man behind so we (and when I say we, I mean he) could throw away the carcass of their dog.

What are kids for?

So, of course, I will be taking liberties with this story.

I would guess that about 42% of is factual.

Enjoy.

*********

(My parents names are Grant and Connie)

Grant: We should pick out an excursion.

Connie:  Yes! We should definitely do that, pal.

Interruption:  I am certain that my parents are never romantic with one another. 

They are just super good friends. 

 Because that is simply too weird to think about.

And wrong.

Do not inform me otherwise.

I do not wish to know.

Thank you.

Grant:  Well, what sounds good to you, buddy?

They looked through the catalog.

Scuba diving?  No.

Parasailing? No.

Rock climbing.?  Definitely not.

Jeep ride through the country side?  Now we're talkin'.

Connie:  Dear friend, we should try this Jeep ride through the country side!

Grant:  Great idea!

Connie:  It is perfect.  I mean, you own a Jeep.  We like Jeeps!  And it is probably air-conditioned!

Grant:  Yes.  I am sure it has air-conditioning and hopefully satellite radio.  Just like my Jeep.

Connie:  Let's just hope it has leather interior.

Grant:  Of course, buddy ol' pal!  Great idea!  Let's do it!

And then they high-fived.

The next day, they showed up for their exciting adventure.

And much to their surprise, this was the kind of Jeep they were given:

And this is the kind of Jeep my dad owns:

Now, you must know a few things about my parents before we continue:

1)  They do NOT like to get dirty.  Ever.  My dad sometimes showers 2-3 times a day.

2)  My mom does NOT like her hair to get messed up.

3)  My mom does NOT like her makeup to get messed up.

4)  Both of them loathe wrinkles in their clothes.

Wrinkles are the devil.

Starch spray is their friend.

5)  My mom blow dries her hair while camping.

6)  She probably irons her undies

7)  They both greatly dislike being hot.

8)  They are not ever daring or adventuresome.

9)  Anyone who is daring or adventuresome is a "clown"

10)  They always high-five each other before bed.  They never kiss.

Because they are my parents.

And that would be gross.

So, they show up for their excursion, freshly showered, make-up'd, blow-dried, and ironed.

Ready for their air-conditioned ride through the country side.

Instead they are shown this Jeep:

They are paired up with another young couple.

Who, as you may have guessed, would later be dubbed "clowns."

And they are given bandanas to keep the dust out of their mouths.

Oh, perfect!

And they paid for this!

So, they get in the Jeep.

My dad volunteers to drive . . . as to avoid any "clownish-ness."

There is no, I repeat, there is no air conditioning.

Or Satellite radio.

Or any radio.

They get covered in dust.

They get drenched in mud.

They visit a tequila factory.

They have a lovely picnic at the beach.

Then they turn around.

They get drenched in mud again.

They get covered in dust.

They removed their bandanas

And went back to their rooms and took showers.

After which, I am sure they blow-dried, flat-ironed, make-up'd, and clothes-ironed.

And then they high-fived and went to dinner.

The End.