Because they are crazy.

Faith begged me last week to go camping.  "Please, please Mommy.  It sounds like so much fun.  All my friends go camping.  Why can't we?"

I replied, "Faith, darling, I am only responsible for the first 18 years of your life.  You are in charge of the next 62.  During those 62 years you can go camping as much as you please and I won't have to go with you."

If I were to play a word association game and the word thrown at me was "camping", these are the words I would throw back:

• Dirt
• Bugs
• Hot
• Cold
• Laundry
• Tired
• Uncomfortable
• Work
• Sleepless
• Why

None of those words fit into my description of a good vacation.

None at all.

"But Mindee!"  You'll say "Camping is great!  The fresh air!  The fun!  And you don't have to stay in a tent.  We have a camper with beds and a stove and air conditioning!"

To which I say, "So does my house."

I have nothing against fresh air or fun or outdoor activities.  It's just that when I finish with those things, I want a real bed and a real meal and, most of all, a real shower.

Plus, I have seen the amount of work that goes into camping.  I know about the meal planning and prep; the packing of coolers and rolling of sleeping bags.  I have seen men trying to cram way too much stuff into a vehicle ill suited for the purpose.  I am familiar with the checklist of sunscreen and bug spray and ointments and bandages.  I have heard the moans of my friends who are buried under a mountain of smoky, dirty laundry upon return from this so-called "vacation."

So I will be headed for the lake this weekend where my parents support my no camping stance by maintaining a house and a boat.  We 'll get all the fun of a day on the water and then go take showers and cook in a kitchen with food from a refrigerator.  We'll turn on the big game Saturday night and then climb into actual beds with actual sheets.

But . . .

Well a lot of people camp.  And then they go back and do it again.  So possibly there's something to it?  Something enjoyable?

Help me out here.  Tell me your position on camping. 

And then have a great weekend!

This is Curlisse right after her trip to the groomer yesterday

Oh, and I lied. 

I'm not going to be worldess.

Probably you are not shocked by that.

But there was a poodle related question yesterday and I would not be a good blogger if I just left it hanging out there in cybersapce.

Although, you have to admit, the idea of poodles floating endlessly through space is a funny one.

Q:  Do you know how smart your dog is?

A:  Yes.  We never really did train this dog beyond housebreaking yet somehow she will come and stay and never runs off and knows when it's time to go to the basement.  She goes to the basement when we're gone because she's smart enough to get into trash cans and lie on the forbidden furniture while we are out and then go running for her bed when she hears the garage door open.

Truthfully, I don't understand all the "doodle" mixes i.e. Labradoodles, Goldendoodles etc.  I don't know why you'd want to mix the poodle with other dogs.  They are smart, well-behaved, good with kids and require minimal exercise.  They can even be trained to retrieve for hunting.  Why mess with a good thing?

What's that you say?

Poodles are slightly ridiculous looking and your husband wouldn't be caught dead walking a huge poodle?

Well, yes.  There is that.

But I swear, once you get past the appearance they really are the best dog ever.  Only the Standards though.  Those little ones are darned cute and just as smart but yippy.

I'm not really a fan of yippy.

That last part is really why we have a poodle.  Hayden was two when we got a dog so a large breed was a must.  He would have squished a little dog.

Non-shedding is key because my house cleaning skills will not hold up to a shedding dog.  We would become those people who go everywhere covered in a fine layer of fur.

Plus, when you have a poodle?  You get to tuck the word "poodle" into all kinds of conversations.  And as Lorelai and Rory Gilmore have sagely noted, "poodle" is just darned fun to say.

LORELAI: Huh. You know what I just realized? Oy is the funniest word in the entire world.

RORY: Huh.

LORELAI: I mean, think about it. You never hear the word oy and not smile. Impossible. Funny, funny word.

EMILY: Oh, dear God.

LORELAI: Poodle is another funny word.

EMILY: Please drink your drink, Lorelai.

LORELAI: In fact, if you put oy and poodle together in the same sentence, you’d have a great new catch phrase, you know? Like, oy with the poodles already. So from now on, when the perfect circumstances arise, we will use our favorite new catch phrase.

RORY: Oy with the poodles already.

LORELAI: I’m telling you, it’s knocking ‘whatcha talking ‘bout, Willis?’ right out of first place.

(Sorry for that.  But The Gilmore Girls is the best show ever.  Period.  The end.  If I can slip a memorable scene into a post, I have to do it.)

BUT the big down side is grooming costs.  With tip, we pay about $75 every 8 weeks or so to have the poodle groomed.  To keep me from complaining, my groomer (and neighbor and friend) has this sign in the window of her shop:

The top 10 Reasons your dog’s hair cut costs more than yours....

10. Your hairdresser doesn’t wash and clean your rear end

9. You don’t go for 8 weeks with out washing or brushing your hair

8. Your hairdresser doesn’t give you a sanitary trim

7. Your hairdresser doesn’t have to clean your ears

6. Your hairdresser doesn’t have to clean boogies from your eyes

5. You sit still for your hairdresser

4. Your haircut doesn’t include a manicure or pedicure

3. Your hairdresser only washes and cuts the hair on your head

2. You don’t BITE or SCRATCH your hairdresser (at least I hope not!) And the NUMBER ONE reason your dog’s hair cut costs more than yours....

1. The likelihood of you pooping or peeing while your hair is being cut is extremely slim.

Add to that, that our dog takes 3-4 hours to groom and suddenly the fee seems like a bargain. 

The Poodle goes in for her grooming today.  This post is serving as a pep talk to me for writing that check.

I consider myself something of a nap expert.  I take at least a short nap 4-5 times a week because it makes me a nicer human.  Nap quality varies greatly though depending on my schedule and surrounding conditions.  Over the years, with a lot of hard work and research, I have developed a recipe for napping greatness.  Now I shall pass my formula on to you.

Free of charge.

You're welcome.

Recipe For An Ideal Nap

The perfect nap takes place between 1:00 and 3:00 on Sunday afternoon.  It takes some thorough prep to set yourself up for this time frame.  This is the game plan:

1. Get enough household chores done on Saturday to make yourself a little cranky yet also relieve the feeling that you have a mile long to-do list.  You can't take a quality nap with a giant list hanging over your head.
2. Set your alarm for early Sunday morning.
3. Prepare a meal and put it in the crock pot.  Any of these will do.  Knowing dinner is ready will ease your mind later and the fragrance will be heaven to wake up to.
4. Race around getting the family ready for church, letting your husband sleep in a little.  If you let him sleep now, you'll feel less guilty about sleeping later.
5. Put on something at least slightly uncomfortable to wear to church yourself.  Once your husband is up, make the bed.
6. Go to church.  Smile at everyone, take notes during service, volunteer for something you'll regret later.
7. Eat something carb-laden for lunch.  We go with donuts around here.  Donuts are coma inducing.
8. Around 12:45, head for the bedroom.  Ideally, you'll send the family out for the afternoon.  However this is rarely possible.  As an alternative, make sure you have some kind of white noise in your bedroom (I use a fan) and lock the door. 
9. Threaten certain death to anyone who knocks on the door while you are napping.
10. Turn off all phones in the bedroom.
11. Change out of uncomfortable clothing and into sweats or even jammies.
12. Make the room as dark as possible.  Set the alarm for 3:00 so you don't oversleep and end up awake all night.
13. Lie down on top of the covers with a blanket over you.  If you get under the covers you'll send the wrong signal to your brain, sleep too deeply and have trouble sleeping that night.  Trust me on this.
14. In a perfect household there is a cat or two.  Have them curl up with you, preferably purring.
15. Enjoy.  You'll know you have hit nap nirvana if you wake up with drool on the pillow.

Fifteen steps is a lot, but totally worth it to achieve the perfect nap.  You'll wake up slightly groggy but also feeling like you have a new lease on life and ready to face the week.  Spend the couple of hours before dinner as you like.  I usually have a couple of chores to finish which I generally ignore in favor of something more enjoyable.

Anyone else have napping tips?

Alas, my lack of clarity led to the majority of you siding with my husband for which he thanks you all.

Now he is gleeful.

And also smug.

Y'all owe me one.

I'll get over it though.  After all, you saved me a trip up a ladder with a six pack of spray paint.  That could have ended very badly.

With all the construction debris in my driveway, it should not have come as a surprise that I ended up with a flat tire on Wednesday.  Yet it did.

I was a licensed driver for over 16 years before I got my first flat.  That one occurred at night, on the Interstate, in December, in the Suburban (may it rest in peace) packed full of Christmas gifts and sleeping children.

The only thing missing from the car was Rich.

I did not even think about changing that tire myself though.  A nice state patrolman came along and did it for me.  I thanked him profusely and gave him a wrapped gift containing a variety of cured meats that was intended for a random male relative.

I'm certain he was thrilled.

My second flat tire was just last winter when I came out of school to find my car listing to the side in the parking lot.  Rich came and fixed it for me.

Because that's why women get married.

But on Wednesday, when I discovered the flat, he wasn't home and I thought to myself, "I am 40 years old.  I should be able to change my own tire."  So I got out the owner's manual, read the instructions and did it.

Please note the recess duty tan line on my arm.

The girls were home with me so I tried to get them excited about female empowerment.  They went along with it long enough to come out and take pictures of me jacking up the car.

Jacking up the car took a while.  They got a little bored with female empowerment and went back inside to watch Wizards of Waverly Place.

Whatever.

By the time Rich got home, I had the spare on and just had to have him check to make sure I had the bolt thingies screwed in tightly enough. 

It's been a long time since I was that proud of myself.  I know - it's a silly little thing that I should have learned long ago but . . . I'm feeling so good I may even take on something crazy.

Like plumbing!

It sure beats replacing a roof out of pocket.

This picture from my Knock Knock page shows a bit of the old roof:

Boy my flowers looked good that spring.

As you can see, our siding is Blah Beige.  Sadly, the siding is in great shape and will not be replaced any time soon.  Topping off the beige is white trim.  Inoffensive, yet uninspired but since we can't paint our trim ourselves (3 1/2 story drop in one spot - yikes!) and it costs a lot extra when the people you hire change the color, the white is staying too.

So to add a little color we went with the green roof.

While the green may not be everyone's cup of tea, I'm liking it!

The issue I need resolved is the matter of the valley liners on the roof.  When the sales guy was here, we decided on copper.  We like copper and in our heads it was very pretty.  

Kind of London-y.  Possibly San Francisco-ish.

On my roof though . . . Well, what do you think?

I'm finding it to be veeeeeerrry orange.  When the sun hits it, it's shiny orange.

So is that a good thing or a bad thing?

Is it going to grow on me?  Maybe it's just the shock of the change?

If it were real copper I would be excited about it turning a lovely shade of verdigris, but real copper is pricey so this is just copper colored.

If I decide I don't like it, it's just a matter of some spray paint to fix it.

Opinions?

But then, on the weekends, when you'd go out she would have a couple of drinks and turn completely insane.

Remember that friend?

Remember how, out of loyalty, you kind of had to follow her around?  You made sure she wasn't stumbling into back rooms with creeps or making out on the couch in front of God and everyone with someone she'd regret later.  And you kept tabs to make sure she wasn't saying anything outrageously stupid or driving off into the night with a stranger.

The thanks you got was either:

• A screaming tantrum about how "I. Am. Perfectectally. Um. Capa . . . capa . . . CAPABLE. Of Taking. Care. Of. Myself!  
• A crazy, emotional conversation about you were "The. Best. Friend. EVER!"
• You'd let down your guard for a minute and turn around to find her dancing on a table and flinging her bra at the crowd.  The next morning she'd moan, "How could you let me do that?" and you'd feel guilty.

Once she regained her senses, your friend would turn back into her normal, sane self.  Possibly a little sheepish over the shenigans of the night before, but a lovely person once again.

So . . . figuratively speaking, that's pretty much what raising a teenager is like.

Only they don't even need alcohol to go around acting like they've lost their ever lovin' minds.  It's completely within their hardwiring at this age.

Good times.

Good, good times.

Now for the woe:

Hayden came home on the first day of school with one of the weirder viruses I've encountered.  His entire torso was covered with angry, red hives.  I gasped when he took off his shirt.  Then I took pictures and sent them to Rich.  Then I gave Hayden 2 Benadryl and sent him to the shower.

In case you didn't know, the active ingredient in Benadryl is Diphenhydramine.  Diphenhydramine is the ingredient in Tylenol PM that knocks grown ups out like a light.

How did it affect Hayden?

It made him merely listless.  Say what you will about the down sides to ADHD, but it also gives super human energy levels which will probably come in handy for Hayden one day when he no longer lives at my house.

I gave him 2 more at bedtime when the hives had moved from his torso to his limbs.

The next morning he still had a slight rash which I knew would get him sent home from school so I kept him home.  You have never seen a more delighted child than my son who got to return to summer vacation on the second day of school.

Which turned into the third day of school when that night the hives reappeared on his hands and feet and he threw up multiple times.

I told you it was a weird virus.

Of course he was fine for the weekend.  Stinker.

In the meantime, I went to bed with a tickle in my throat on Wednesday night, which turned into slight stuffiness on Thursday.

On Friday I was sick with a butt-kicking cold.  I came home after work and went to bed and pretty much stayed there until Sunday morning.  I do not know what happened in the interim.  When I came to on Sunday afternoon the kids looked washed and fed and the house was still standing so I guess things went fine.

Rich is pretty much awesome as a pinch hitter.

And now it is Monday and we're back in the saddle, because there is no other choice.  I can't take a day off for several weeks because until the school kiddos get into a routine it totally throws them off when a sub shows up.

If I worked in an office I would feel badly about exposing my co-workers to my killer cold germs but since I work in the germiest building outside a hospital I figure I'm just adding to the mix.

Very.

Hugely.

Amazingly.

Interesting.

And by "interesting" I mean "crazy".

But we'll adjust!  That's what schools do.  Kids are kids and their basic needs are the same.  Heck if the ELL kids can adjust to a different culture and language, the least we can do is adjust to having them here.

We are the grown ups after all.

A large number of the ELL kids are originally from Sudan.  At recess this week, I was talking with a Sudanese third grade boy.  His grasp of English is pretty good actually.  I introduced myself and he told me his name which I can't pronounce.  For the purposes of this post I'll call him G.  G and I had the best conversation.  Understand that his tone of voice for this entire exchange was one of total nonchalance.

G:  Are you the office lady?

Me:  No, actually I'm the security monitor.

G:  So what are you going to do if a guy comes in shooting a gun?

Me:  Well, I suppose I'll duck and then call the police.

G:  Yeah?  Well what if he shoots you first?

Me:  I'm sure someone will hear it and then they'll call the police.

G:  But you'll be dead.

Me:  I suppose I will.

G:  I guess I'll come to your funeral.

Me:  Wow, would you?  That's really nice.

G:  It's ok.  I don't have anything better to do.  My TV is out.

And that my friends is why I keep showing up for work.  Priceless.

My sister is laughing really hard right now in Denver.

Just ignore her.

Getting Hayden organized is horse of a different color.  His ADHD mind has made every desk, cubby and backpack into a black hole of missing assignment, notes to be signed and returned papers.  You'd think a system like the Trapper Keeper would make sense.  Everything is right there at your fingertips, you just have to find the right folder.

Nope.

Hayden would just shove indiscriminately until the notebook was bulging with papers - and the folders themselves were empty.  Plus, the way the TKs unfold all the way across the desk really bugged him.  So we tried something new last year and it worked!  He made it all year without any complaints about homework not turned in or missing assignments!

This was HUGE people.

Here's what we did.

I went and bought five, one inch 3-ring notebooks in different colors (yes there are two blues, any other colors were deemed "girly").  They are labeled for his four primary classes plus one for electives.  The black one is Math.  It's hard to label black objects.

The inside of each notebook is the same.

They each have a pencil bag with pencils, red pens and blue pens plus extra erasers.

The math notebook also has a calculator, ruler and protractor.

Behind the pencil bag is a folder with pockets to hold hand outs and returned papers.  The name of the class, what period it is and the room number are written on the folder.

In the back is a lot of loose leaf paper.

His locker is centrally located so it is easy for Hayden to switch notebooks between classes.  Even if he didn't though, they're small and lightweight so carrying 2-3 in a backpack wouldn't be a big deal.

In his locker, Hayden keeps extra packs of loose leaf paper for refills and things he doesn't use often like markers and colored pencils.

At the end of the day, he grabs whichever ones he needs for homework and heads out.  The different colors help keep it all straight

And that's it.  Simple, straightforward and cheap.  We were even able to reuse two notebooks this year and all of the pencil bags.

What systems have worked best for you?