Family · This and That

Marketplace: right time, wrong place

Well, where do I begin on such an embarrassing anecdote?

From the beginning. Last summer, I was perusing the Marketplace for a bike for my daughter. Hers wasn’t cutting it anymore, and she looked like a bear on a tricycle, and that needed to change. Coming up, one bicycle, but I have standards. It needed to be able to change gears, be at least a 24″ tire, and be in good to great condition. Because I’m not doing this again, nor am I buying a brand new bike for you to ride sporadically, even though you tell me you will ride it ALL THE TIME.

I locked eyes-to-tires on a beaut. It met all my criteria and was pretty too. Now I have to pick it up. It isn’t far away, just into town a couple of miles. The plan, per discussion with the seller, is to pick up the bike and deposit the $15 in the mailbox. No muss, no fuss.

I asked my husband to come along to get it, and that wasn’t going to happen, so I asked my 16-year-old to come with me. She’s always up for an adventure, so we load up. We find the place easy enough, and I can see my new purchase parked right there underneath a tree just waiting for me. You cannot and should not purchase a bike without taking it for a spin. So I did. My daughter caught it on vid. The bike rode great, but the brakes were a little tight. Either way, good to go! We loaded it up, the money was put in the mailbox, and away we went.

See for yourself.

The next day, I get a message from the seller asking when I’m planning on picking up the bike. WAIT, WHAT?! I already picked up the bike! What is she talking about? But she couldn’t be wrong because she is the seller and obviously can see the bike is still at her own dang house. I might have just stolen someone’s bike. Ermergerd. I’m at work during this exchange, and my co-workers are finding this hilarious. Me? My stomach hit my butt, and I was racking my brain on how I was going to remedy this eff-up. Could I just go and deposit the stolen bike back under the tree? Were the police already called? Would my husband come with me this time? I can’t even believe this. I’m wrecked. There goes my pristine record. There goes my nursing degree and my livelihood. It’s all gonna be gone.

Okay, a little dramatic, but now you may understand how I felt in that moment. A grievous misconduct – nevermind, that’s for work-related issues. But something like that! I have never stolen something so large before and in broad daylight! (Disclaimer: as a teenager, I may have taken things that weren’t mine. Shame on me, I know.) What am I going to do!?

Let’s get to the meat of the story. I can’t remember who I told from my family, but they had a big mouth, and when I got home from work that day, my son ran out of the house and yelled, “You stole a bike, Mom?” Well, yes, yes, I did, but not intentionally, and now I have to make it right. It’s pouring rain, by the way, but I can’t wait to remedy this unfortunate mistake. I have to go now – raining cats and dogs or not- time’s a tickin’. My husband refuses to go with me- he doesn’t want to be caught up in the judicial system, but my daughter agrees to go. Honestly, she is just looking for the adrenaline high, I bet, but whatever. I guess I have a friend in all this.

The bike gets loaded (again), and we hit the wet road. The windshield wipers are on high, matching my heartbeat, and the rain is sluicing away like my future. What an idiot I am. What a gosh-darn idiot. And to be honest, how did this all happen? I confirmed the address, and I had a picture of the bike! One really needs to just literally put 2 and 2 together. Clearly, I did not confirm the address nor compare the picture of the bike to the real deal parked so lovingly in the front yard.

We arrive, and before returning the bike to its rightful owners, I feel I need to fess up. So up to the door I go. There is a sign on the door that reminds knockers that a camera is in use. Great, so they saw me steal the bike in the first place. I knock and wait, go back to the car, write a note to stick in the door, and wait; knock again and ring the doorbell, and nothing. So I heave the bike out of the car in the pouring rain, roll it to its rightful place beneath the tree, tuck the note in the screen door, and bust ass outta there. I deserve to be soaking wet right now; it’s my punishment.

The Note

I’m returning the bike I thought I was buying off of Marketplace yesterday!

I went to the wrong house! Sincerely sorry and embarrassed. Keep the $15 for any inconveniences.

Amber

Back in the car, we drive literally 2 blocks, and there it is. The correct bike – parked neatly in the driveway where even someone with 0/0 vision could see it. The owner was making this easy for me. Thank the heavens. It matches the pictures, and the address is correct. I load a bike for the third time and nearly drive away without paying. Good god, this has been a disaster from the start. My daughter cannot even believe what an idiot I am, and frankly, neither can I.

Finally, it is over, and the good news of the debacle is that my daughter loves her bike! I paid double for it, but it was worth it (right?).

Or so I thought. The next day, my co-worker damn near runs to me with a shit-eating grin on her face to show me a post. I read it. OMG. It’s public! This isn’t looking good. I hadn’t heard from the cops nor seen an APB out for me, so perhaps Facebook was as far as the victim was going to take it. One can only hope, ammiright? I had already scanned fb posts and hadn’t seen any reports or requests about a stolen bike, so this was a little unnerving. Turns out, one sister works with the thief, and the other sister works with the victim. Small world.

But life sometimes throws a curveball that brings delight. This is one of those times. The post included a lot of laughing emojis (good sign) but spelled out the bike heist they never saw coming before, during, or after. How did the sister even know about the stolen bike, you may ask? Solid question. Someone had a big mouth and was gossiping with family members, clearly, so she recognized the story being told. Classic.

The victim found the bike heist hilarious, thank the Lord, and not one soul had noticed that said bike was missing. That answers why there was no police report. She wrote on Facebook that it was the funniest shit ever, and even wanted to find me to give me the money back. No, thank you. Meeting in person would be more than mortifying, and there is only so much small talk before it gets weird(er).

The perp and the victim did chat on Messenger, and had a good laugh about it. Apparently, I picked the best person to steal from (and return to). I still can’t believe I just sauntered right up, took the bike, rode it, rated it, and left the money.

Idiot.

Family

Pack it up, Pack it in

Well, as promised, here is my follow up since the APB (All Points Bulletin) was cancelled. Thank you, btw.

We arrived unscathed across the Florida line after a two-and-a-half-day road trip, going as far East as Gatlinburg, Tennessee, and as far south as Orlando, Florida, which was our destination and home for one week.

The road trip was both eventful and uneventful. Let me explain. We had no major mechanical issues with the rented minivan – no flat tires, or worse, blown tires; no accidental door dings or car crashes; no engine overheating or tranny giving up. Minor issue – the oil change message showed up on day one informing us that the oil needed to be changed. Ummm, forget something rental company?? The message remained even after the pit stop at Valvoline. No one could figure out how to reset the dang thing. So, yes, annoying, but pretty uneventful in the grand scheme of things.

SIDE NOTE: WE DID NOT RENT A TRANSIT VAN. We determined, pert near last minute, that we would save nearly $1000 if we compromised on a mini-van. So that is what we did. We did not need the faux body bag for luggage either. We fit all six family members, six suitcases, a laundry basket with food, seven backpacks housing things to do and sets of clothing (so we wouldn’t have to unpack the whole van to get out the suitcases during our first two nights), three pillows, five blankets, a small cooler, and a partridge in a pear tree.

At any given time while driving, my husband and I would hear, “How long until we are there?”, “Are we in Florida yet?”, “Why are we traveling East?”. Ugh. And to explain over and over again that we were road-tripping and that part of this vacation was seeing what we could see on our way to Florida. Tough stuff to understand apparently.

Now for the eventful portion… we drove through many cities with the 80s and 90s country XM station soundtracking our movements (I totally impressed my husband with my country singer knowledge, guessing the correct artist nearly every time) with our first “road-trip” stop at a giant fireworks store in Missouri which has two giant Transformers outside of the store with thirteen more inside. The kids and I ran around the store snapping shots with them all while my husband talked shop with the owner.

Up next, Paducah, Kentucky for some shut-eye. This was our first night after a 10-hour drive plus pit stops. The next morning, we crossed into Metropolis, Illinois over a fog-covered bridge to see the giant Superman and what the townspeople made of their own little Metropolis. It was pretty impressive. They have a store on the main street filled with Superman paraphernalia including Superman Museum, which we didn’t buy into. Shirts, capes, bobbleheads, stickers, and so much more. I bought a sticker for my water bottle that replicated the 1st picture below but without my kids’ mugs. My oldest daughter came across a phone booth and was mystified, we took bites out of giant burgers, and kissed superman. It was worth the stop.

A lego replica of The Super Museum.

After our Paducah/Metropolis stop we headed even further east to Tennessee and the land of Dolly Parton. We rolled into Gatlinburg around 5:30 p.m. and went to Ober Mountain. It’s a huge facility for alpine sliding, skiing, snow tubing, rock wall climbing, ice skating, a tram and so much more. The tram, the main reason for the visit, was delayed and a giant line clued us in that we wouldn’t be partaking in that! We only had two hours to experience all they had. We chose wisely with alpine sliding for everyone but my husband who instead rode the ski lift to the top for pictures and saw a bear, rock wall climbing, and ice skating for the little kids, which they had never done before (and we live in Minnesota! Shame on us). The big kids and adults were more on the “sit and wait” bench and overall, it was worth the stop.

From there we wanted to keep driving south, get a few more night hours in before we called it a day. One option was to go through the Great Smoky Mountains, but after speaking with a couple of Ober Mountain employees, it was deemed too dangerous to go through those mountains at night. There had been a dip in temps the night before and most of the roads near the top would have been frost-covered or worse, spotty with black ice. Imagine THAT in a minivan. We rerouted a different, safer way and stayed the night in, well, I can’t remember, but I drove as we left Ober mountain, down tight turns into the night towards a faraway hotel.

Leaving our hotel the next morning we traveled south again. Today we would arrive in Florida. As the kids said, FINALLY!

We had two full days at Cocoa Beach where the waves chewed us up and spit us out, but we had so much fun regardless. The kids learned to boogie board, one attempted to run into the waves holding the board parallel with her body and was slammed back, and our oldest learned to skimboard as well. The sun was hot and so was the sand. Not everyone ended up looking like a lobster which was a success in my book. Okay, it was me. I didn’t look like a lobster; everyone else was rather red and needed aloe.

We also hit up SeaWorld which had awesome rides, sea turtles, alligators, manatees..well, anything seaworthy I guess. Did you know there is a Sesame Street Land there!? By far my favorite! Big Bird’s Nest, Hooper’s Store! Ermergerd. My oldest daughter absolutely loves sea turtles and she was able to see some rescued turtles as well as a sea turtle in the wild while fishing.

An embarrassing moment here… For our second park, we chose Busch Gardens and drove an hour there to find out they closed at 6 p.m. because of their Howl-O-Scream. My response was a one-word response…use your imagination. We had 45 minutes to go on rides and enjoyed each one immensely. It was such a disappointment that we had such a short time there. I think it would have been a super cool evening park to be at. Maybe next time.

In consolation for my big screw-up, we went to Andretti’s Indoor Karting. We drove go-carts at 40mph (just the older kids and adults) while the littles had their own race at a lower speed. We had a package deal that included VR as well; super fun playing Dreamscapes with the little kids, while the older two played a zombie game. We all played a game where you sit in a theater with 7D glasses on shooting clowns – my husband wasn’t impressed and the glasses were small for our heads. Lastly, we played laser tag and my oldest son crowed about his victory and my youngest son blamed his loss on the gun not working. Typical.

In between all of the above excitement, there was pool time at our resort, excursions to find a Barnes & Noble and Sephora for the two oldest, Gator Golfing (pics below…I got third, which thinking about this now is also what I got racing), relaxation in our condo, Bananagrams (super fun for all ages and not without the younger two getting upset when they lost), smoothies and ice cream, and off-shore fishing (pics below as well) and many, many laughs.

There are so many more pictures but I’ll spare ya. Your retinas are probably bleeding by now anyway.

You may be asking how the heck we could afford a Florida vacation for six. Groupon is a key component to saving money. I bought a two-park ticket/person and saved 50%; the parks we got to choose from were Aquatica, SeaWorld, Busch Gardens, and Adventure Island. The Andretti Indoor Karting was another Groupon find along with Gator Golf and all the experiences were worth the money and the discount! This is not a plug for Groupon although Groupon, if you read this, you now know my contact information. Hook me up.

We also packed lunches for those days we were out on an adventure – beach days, theme park days, and we set off from home with an exceptionally large quantity of snacks and drinks. Every cent we saved made a difference.

We left Florida on Wednesday at 10:00 a.m. and reached home on Thursday at 10:30 a.m. My husband and I drove straight through with stops for gas, bathroom breaks, snacks, coffee, and a light nap. We became delusional and had a blast doing that together. Safety came first, of course. Always a co-pilot keeping watch, music surfing, and keeping conversations going.

To do my crucial job of co-pilot, I drank two Starbucks double-shot coffees with a triple-shot mixed in between those two. I felt sick afterward, but it was a source of laughter for us. We slept hard when we got home and were delighted to be in our comfort zone. The scenery was great in Florida, but until we got home, we hadn’t realized how much we love our trees and brown crops here. We missed it and have decided the next time we go on vacation it isn’t going to be in Florida.

The tap water was fishy-tasting anyway.

This and That

In case you weren’t aware…

I’ve been MIA on my blog. Call it a case of not-having-much-to-say or not-finding-the-time, but I’m back now. So you can stop worrying and cancel the APB regarding my whereabouts.

My family and I spent 2 weeks out of town, road-tripping east and then south for a week in Florida. Can’t wait to tell you all about it. Stay tuned.

This and That

In case you weren’t aware.

Unsubscribing from emails is a lengthy, complex process. Well, it seems that way anyway. What takes so long for those companies to take me off their list? You can’t tell me that once I click that magical “unsubscribe” button, those unwanted subscription emails cannot be immediately halted? Scoff. Give me a break (and my inbox one as well).

Instead, I have to continue with a chaotic inbox for another month or longer, while, what?, the IT department sorts out the printed requests, alphabetizes them, scours them for bizarre personal email names, and then when they have had their laugh, they’ll approve my unsubscribing request? Note: my email name is very generic, nothing like candybarmama@xmail.com or anything of the ilk.

What’s worse? I did this! 1% off? Sign me up! Goat handbook? Sign me up! Roller Derby Association? Sign me up!

Those topics and discounts seemed grand at the time, but now?! I’m drowning in unwanted emails. Unsubscribe me, dammit! (cough) Please. I’m whisper-begging.

Farm Fanatics

In case you weren’t aware…

Larry and Diane are great cat names. Also, kittens don’t stay kittens. They grow up into Cats. Weird, right? (I know you know that I know that you know they don’t stay babies!)

Anyway…

What cutie-patooties! These little furballs you pet, cuddle, and hope to keep around. They run, play, and get jostled by the little tykes living in your home, and then in the blink of an eye, they are in the adolescent stage, gawky and lanky and growing into their limbs (remind you of teenage kiddos?)…and then they become adults. Full-grown cats and they aren’t so cute anymore. Yeah, you still love ’em, but it isn’t the same. (This post is really starting to sound like I’m describing teens!)

We have a kitten farm right now with eleven kitties (we may have an awesome problem), none in the weird adolescent stage but making their way there. So drop me a line if you are in the Rochester, MN region, have a good loving home available, and want a kitten to cuddle. Currently, we have Lovey, Lucy, Half-Face (half black and half orange face calico), Kobe (yes, Kobe Bryant), Trevor (fat fluffer-nutter), Lily, and, well, the rest we can’t remember. Go figure for a brood that size!

And hurry up, they don’t stay tiny forever!

Disclaimer: no kittens were hurt in the process of writing this post. They are all well-loved (see picture above), but not litter-trained. That’s an easy fix upon admission to your family.

Family · This and That

Meatloaf struck again

A while back I posted about an upcoming trip to Superior Wisconsin; a birthday jaunt where my twin sister and I were going to celebrate another year alive and well. The apogee (such a fun word meaning climax, peak, or the highest point – add it to your vocab and enjoy) would be reliving our 8th-grade versions of rollerskating at a legit rink (not my particle-board barn floor) called World of Wheels. Well, we did it.

We planned our birthday trip around Friday night adult skating. We figured that was the safest time for us to lace up 5-pound skates and wobble around the rink; no kids to run over or into. We were right.

What we, umm I, was wrong about was building up my confidence.

The DJ/semi-professional skater had a sign-up sheet for song requests. Meatloaf signed up and within the hour his vampire video and song were played. I skated and sang while my sister, who was on a break, watched, laughed, and inwardly (and outwardly) cringed at my antics.

At about the fifteenth or sixteenth time around, I had made the adjustments like a pro. My legs were slightly bent to make for better skating and my left foot took the lead on turns while my right foot completed slight wiggles to assist. My confidence was soaring, my hair was flowing breezily behind me, and my eyes weren’t trained on my skates. I was feeling so alive! So 8th-grader-like!

If our DJ had actual records, this next moment would have been a giant screech of music coming to a halt. Much like my body did. Hard impact.

No one can say for sure if my skates were faulty or if my wheels collided or if I was pushed. Well, we can actually eliminate being pushed, can’t we. That seems far-fetched at a skating rink.

What we know for certain is the sound my body made when it hit the floor, the position my body was in for a good twenty seconds before I “popped” up, and the amount of laughter that ensued after I went down. Besides my sister, one person asked if I was okay. As soon as Alicia said, “yes, she’s fine”, he burst into laughter. And it was funny; I was laughing, partly because falling is always funny, but more because I was so embarrassed. My god, roll me off the floor into a corner, please!

Instead, I drug myself up and off the rink, found a bench away from prying eyes, and nursed my wounds.

Bruise on my left knee, bruise and a giant skin burn on my right knee, and let’s not forget, a bruised ego. One giant bruise, COMING THROUGH PEOPLE!

We sat for a good ten minutes, laughing and reliving the “Fall heard and seen by all” and then resumed skating like nothing had happened. I mean, come on, Meatloaf would have gotten back on the horse in the name of love.

I don’t have any pictures of my wounds, but I do have one that encompasses how awesome this place was. The only video I shot was after my crash to the floor, and it was of Alicia, unscathed and upright. Not worth adding to the post – she would vote “nay” on that addition.

Once you get my past my face – take your time -you’ll see the great art in the background.

It definitely was a memorable event for our yearly trip. No guarantees we will carve out time for this on our next birthday party, but who knows? I’ve got skates here and time to practice my skills.

I still have one question though. What the hell wouldn’t Meatloaf do for love?

Family

What Moms say during hiking.

I took the kids hiking the other day to Whitewater State Park. After we had gone up 300 stairs and walked 500 miles, I noticed that I was yelling warnings pert-near the whole time, instead of enjoying the views of the great, glorious nature that God has given us.

While I was shouting out ominous opportunities for children, I thought to myself, “Let’s record this.” So I did. And it took several takes and we never got it right. But here they are, and remember, they weren’t born actors. They had to work at this…really hard.

Hey, be careful climbing trees!
Hey, careful for roots!
Hey, don’t touch the mushrooms! They might kill you!
Hey, don’t get too close to the edge!
Hey, watch out for loose rocks!

I’d love to say that no children were hurt in the process, but I’d be lying. My son injured his finger faux-falling out of a tree. He’s fine. My daughter, in one of the videos above, faked a fall but ended up hurt and scuffed her arm while her brother was “saving” her life from a long tumble. She’s fine too. Resiliency is a fine thing in children. Laughing about it helps (yes, I did check to make sure nothing was broken–No, I did not have a first aid kit…They’re fiiine).

As you could see from this high-tech videographing, we had fun, we didn’t spend close to enough time rehearsing, and we didn’t spend any money on props. Low-budget filming at its finest.

I’m afraid to take them back hiking again. I’m scared it’ll be another version of cautionary tales and too much idle time standing around waiting for them to learn their lines. And even more time yelling Take 2 or was it 3?! If we do this again, I’m afraid they’ll want perfection, and well, that’s simply not me. And frankly, perfection is not them either.

They are messy, and not the best listeners, squabblers among siblings, and terrible child actors. But I love them, and they’re mine. And dammit, I’ll probably take them hiking again.

So if you are ever at Whitewater State Park and hear some shrill voice shouting “Take 12!”, that’s me. And you’ll find my kids hanging off branches that don’t break (so no lesson there) or tripping over roots (even though they were warned) or, worse yet, getting too close to the edge of a cliff (Don’t grab my hand! I said my forearm! It’s a better grip!). Feel free to join us and bring some reinforcements. Apparently, child actors need “breaks”.

Family

In case you weren’t aware…

Black and white stick-on tattoos are only cool when they aren’t on your child’s neck.

In our case, my son was given a stack of fake tattoos and found the best one to portray him as a 10-year-old felon. He made sure no piece of that tattoo was left on the paper. He probably had a soaking wet washcloth plastered on that thing for a good 60 seconds before he peeled it off, leaving a perfectly tatted neck. This thing was placed with skilled precision. On the side of his neck. On his birthday. Right in time for pictures with his cake. All that was missing was a teardrop tattoo.

First picture. Go ahead, zoom in. Take a closer look. It’s worth it.

And here’s the picture once I realized what we were dealing with. Just a smidgeon of his past peeking out from behind his carefully placed hand.

But, my god, even as a birthday felon, he sure is cute.

I found him, not long after snapping those pictures, in the lavatory with yet another sopping rag scrubbing his skin red trying to get it off. Per dad’s request.

I don’t know what his wish was when he blew out his candle, but I was wishing hard that his future was not going to be one behind bars. Only toddlers look good in stripes and cheap flip-flops.

Happy Birthday our little faux-felon. Enjoy double-digits.

This and That

In case you weren’t aware…

A turtle’s spine is straight up the center of its shell. Therefore, their shell is literally their backbone.

So when you drive over them, you’re pulling up to the oldest highrise in America, with its glittering, flickering letters spelling out A S S H O L E, the air thick with distaste, and the cloying smell of douchebag.

Don’t be a jerk, if you want to break a back, yo mama’s, step on the sidewalk cracks like everyone else.

Family

Pedal Pull 3.0

At our local town’s festival, along with other towns, suburbs, and cities across America, there is an event for children of nearly all ages. Starting at four years old, and up to the ripe age of eleven, children can engage their vastly different-sized legs to travel the longest distance while pedaling a mini-tractor pulling a weighted trailer.

A weekend or two ago, my daughter signed up (well, I printed her name and inked my John Hancock) to pursue her week-long dream of garnering her third 1st place trophy for the Pedal Pull. She had been successful at ages 5 and 6 and was betting she could pull off another win. She had just finished walking the parade route for her softball team, which we all considered a great warm-up, and was sitting on the sidelines (err, sidewalk) waiting her turn.

They called her name after the 4, 5, and 6-year-olds were finished, and she walked towards the tractor with a smile a mile wide and dimples on her cheeks. Her entire family (cousins, aunts, uncles, siblings, parents, and grandparents) were rooting for her. She hopped on that tractor and pedaled her little heart out. Just when we thought she had nothing left in those legs, she pushed those pedals around one more time for a total length of 24 feet and 9 inches!

We cheered, and she walked away from the announcer and tractor knowing she had done her best.

When all the seven-year-olds had completed their turns, the top three were announced. Third place…who cares, Second place…not our kid, and First Place…Three-time champion Fiona!

Up she strolled, to the tractor placed at a perfect angle for picture taking. She whipped her leg over the seat, sat proudly, and smiled with glee for pictures. Atta girl. Making your dreams come true.

Her aunt and uncle offered to host her for the upcoming State Pedal Pull Championship during the Minnesota State Fair, but she’s young, and competition may be stiff, so we will wait until she has more trophies under her belt before we send her north.

Who knows? Maybe she will be pedaled out at the tender age of eight.

In the meantime…she’s busy admiring her trophies and dreaming of next year.