On Having a Can-Do Attitude

I say the word, "no" to my kids. A lot. And they don't like it; particularly Ella. She is getting to the age where kids she knows have cool stuff (or access to it) that she is never.going.to.have. Genna is right there with her. It's not that I get any type of joy in saying no to my girls--it's just that I don't want them to ever feel that they are entitled.

In the past few weeks, Ella has said that she would like her own laptop, a clubhouse, and her own television. She has since taken matters into her own hands.

Ella made a clubhouse (with Corey's help.)

Ella made a laptop. It even says, "Dell" on the lid.

Ella then made a television, with a remote control and installed it in her closet.

And then, she installed a television for her sister in her closet:

I love that my daughter isn't going to let the word, "no" get in the way of getting what she wants!

Marriage and Mermaids

Last week, we were all in the car when Ella asked a question I had been dreading.

"Mommy, when can I get married?"

"When you're 30," I said.

"How about when I'm 39?" said Ella.

"Even better."

"Or, when your post-graduate studies are completed," said Corey.

I looked at Corey. "But I never completed a post-graduate program."

"Well, you shouldn't have gotten married."

"Nice."

"But Mommy, Ariel was 16 years old when she married Prince Eric. Why can't I get married when I turn 16?"

"Well," I said. "That's because Ariel was a mermaid. You're a human."

"Yeah, but she got legs and became a human."

"Yes, Ella, but she was BORN a mermaid. Even though she got legs, she was still a mermaid, so that's why she got to get married."

I turned to see Ella with her arms crossed and a, "hmph" look on her face.

"Well, when am I getting swim lessons?"

"Soon," I said. "But that isn't going to make you into a mermaid. You have to be BORN a mermaid."

And then a fight erupted in the back seat when Genna piped up by saying in a sing-songy voice, 'You can't get married, you can't get married."

Girlie Weekend!

While I love to go on trips with my husband, I loves me some Girlie Weekends! I have had the good fortune of taking part in an established Girlie Weekend every July for about 10 or so years. Historically, we have always gone to Rehoboth Beach, DE. This time, I decided to mix it up a bit since I am turning 40 in a couple of months. I decided on Isla Mujeres, Mexico and went with two of my girlfriends.

Isla Mujeres is a 5-mile long island off the coast of Cancun. We took the ferry there. It is a very relaxed place with a couple of resorts, but mostly small hotels, bed and breakfasts and homes.

The trip was all kinds of awesome. The first night, my friend Lori and I stayed at Casitas del Mar, a cute little apartment run by a couple named Joyce and Bob. We had a view of the ocean from across the street. The rest of the time we stayed at Villa La Bella, a cute bed and breakfast right on the Caribbean. My friend Katy was able to join us last minute, so we had to find her other accommodations since there was a limit of two per room in both places. Joyce from the Casitas hooked Katy up with a master suite apartment in a fabulous private home owned by an adorable couple in their 70s from Tennessee. The pictures of these places just do not do them justice. Also, you need to keep in mind that we paid next to NOTHING for these places. The Casita was $85 for the night, the B&B was $150 (we had the honeymoon suite because it was all sold out) and the place where Katy stayed was $75 per night. Katy's room was so beautiful was that she actually cried.

Lori, Katy and I spent the entire time drinking Sol, margaritas and pina coladas, exploring, finding sea glass (I brought home a five pound bag of it!) and stuffing our faces with the cheapest and absolute best authentic Mexican food we have ever had in our lives. We rented a golf cart for two days and drove around the island like fools and got to see some really neat things. We went snorkeling, which for me was huge. While I love going to the ocean, I fear it and I am not a good swimmer. I was convinced the life jacket I was wearing was going to fall off of me because two of the three clasps were broken. Eventually, I got off the boat and was amazed by the fishies.

We walked away happy and relaxed. We have a couple of great stories as well. One of my favorites was about the little pottery store that we walked into on Thursday. The lady who ran the store ran up to Katy and told her that her mama painted all of the pottery in the store and even produced a photo of her slaving away on the pottery. Lori and Katy settled on very distinctive huge plates to hang in their kitchens and I got a fish-shaped plate with the Mayan calendar on it. We haggled and each got a "gift with purchase." Of course it didn't really surprise anyone when we saw Katy's one-of-a-kind plate in the next store for $10 less.

The absolute best story isn't really mine to tell, but since Katy doesn't have a blog anymore, I'll share. When Katy asked the couple she stayed with what they did for a living before they retired in Mexico, they didn't really answer. They did mention to Katy that they lived on a "houseboat" for 12 years, but sold it and and bought the house in Mexico because their grandchildren didn't want to visit them anymore on the boat and thought they were weirdos for living on a boat. We decided that their grandchildren were wretched brats who didn't deserve these sweet people. At any rate, they were kind enough to give Katy a ride to the ferry at 6:30 AM on Saturday so that she could catch her flight home. In the car, the man said, "You know how you asked me what I did for a living before we moved to Mexico? Well, I used to be a truck driver, but I couldn't find any good places to eat on the road, so I opened up a chain of restaurants. You may have heard of it--Cracker Barrel."

And the houseboat he and his wife lived on was a yacht.

An Open Letter

To My Fellow Passengers on Sunday's Flight CO2471 (Houston to Nashville), Rows 1-7:

Seriously, what the FUCK!? I know that an airplane in-flight is loud. Very loud. However, it doesn't mean that a person should think that continuously farting during a two hour flight is OK. Let's be clear: it is NEVER OK. It miraculously didn't smell when the flight attendant came down the aisle to issue snacks and drinks, so Stinky McCrappypants KNEW that he/she was being an asshole, in addition to smelling like one. The smell did eventually stop after I kept exclaiming, "OH MY GOD!"

I spent the entire flight narrowing down who could have possibly allowed this hot-dog-water-then-canned-nacho-cheese-then-dead-animal-stuck-in-your-ass-until-you-can't-hold-it-in-another-second-so-let-er-rip-on-the-plane stench to waft over the front of the plane. There were 20 suspects. Let me first start off by saying that it wasn't me (8A). It also wasn't the British couple in 8B and C. They were gagging right along with me, as were their daughters in 7B and C. And while this may sound sexist, I truly believe that there is no possible way that this chemical warfare came from a female over the age of two. I say that because this offensive rot was definitely from the fart subcategory, the SHART. There was shit in that fart, people. A woman would just never do that. That said, that ruled out 1A, 2A, 4A, 4B, 4C, 5A, 5C and 6B.

In addition, I ruled out the man in 3B. I am pretty sure he was Avery Brooks, one of my all-time favorite men of mystery on one of my favorite 80's detective dramas, "Spenser for Hire." You may remember Hawk, Spenser's friend and mysterious confidant. He was a man of few words, but very efficient in taking care of problems. There is no way that Hawk expels gas. I am certain that had Hawk been sitting in my seat, he would have calmly found his Magnum hidden in his briefcase, and capped the ass of the fool who was committing this criminal activity.

At any rate, that leaves five individuals who could have inflicted this torture. I have a feeling it was the person directly in front of me. Let's call him Euro-gibber. He was nothing but trouble the minute he got on the flight and it never stopped. He jibber-jabbered on his cell phone so that all 200 passengers on the plane could hear--thanks! He also cornered the flight attendant after take-off to vent his frustration on the 20 minute delay we experienced prior to take-off. He then went on a rant about his entire travel experience, remarking that everyone at Continental is stupid. When are people going to learn that one should NEVER piss off a flight attendant?! Did he really think she as going to be sympathetic or attempt to help him when he just called her and her brethren STUPID? I noticed that there was no stench while that was going on.

I exacted revenge on Euro-gibber by giving him a flat tire. It was the best thing I could come up with since millions of my brain cells were destroyed on the flight. His glare wasn't nearly as lethal as his stench.

You're Welcome,

Misfit Hausfrau