All day long that girl has been working on a writing project due tomorrow that calls for two paragraphs on 10 different historical documents/speeches, such as the Preamble and JFK's big speech. To keep her at it, Jorge and I have been allotting her exactly two Skittles all day whenever she completes two paragraphs, kinda like potty training. No other food. Our wisdom astounds us. We should write a parenting book.
I think she's craving some protein, though. I guess Skittles just don't stay with you that long. Maybe I should make some more buckeyes, since the peanut butter has protein. Sounds like a good
I hope you had a great weekend.
Mine was not so great.
I can't even remember Friday, but Saturday we had big plans with our small group to do a walking tour of a replica of an 1836 Prairie Village at Conner Prairie Interactive Historic Park which is about an hour from us. I had been looking forward to this event for about four weeks.
Included in this tour was a chance to see all of the gingerbread houses in a Conner Prairie competition. You all know (esp. from last year) how I LOVE gingerbread competitions. In fact, I recently set my DVR to tape any show that features the word "gingerbread" in the title. Gotta catch 'em all, Pokemon! So this night was going to be ... pure bliss!
So Saturday afternoon, after a surprise 50th birthday party for a friend (Happy Birthday, Kathy!) I headed home to dress in long underwear and big woolen scarves to prepare for the night of nights in frigid weather.
Only as I left the party, the room started to spin.
I drove home and realized I was making myself "car sick" which most people cannot do to themselves, but is a skill that I can boast of. Yay, me.
I never recovered. I took all kinds of antacids and did whatever I could to make the bad go away, but it lingered.
All the way to Conner Prairie.
I staggered through the gingerbread house display, snapping pictures like wild paparazzi because I knew I had to work fast and then throw up and die. Here ya go:
So just as our group was about to begin the holiday tour of Christmas 1836-style, Jorge had to help me to the car, and we drove home with me holding a Walmart bag to my face and my scarf tied around my head and eyes to keep out the lights of oncoming headlights, etc. I sort of looked like a nauseated ninja.
Jorge said he was afraid he would get pulled over because he was apparently kidnapping a blindfolded hyperventilating woman.
We made it home with a little gagging but no actual relief, whereupon I fell into the bed and woke this morning (Sunday, actually, as I type this) perfectly fine.
What are the chances that I would become horribly nauseated just long enough to miss the event I've been looking forward to as "the" Christmas event of 2009?
Oh, about the same chance as getting the first parking spot in the mall lot on a December Saturday, I'd say, but it happened.
This evening we did enjoy a small town Christmas event about 20 minutes away, where Kristin sang in the high school women's advanced choir in a tiny, TINY (so tiny that the word in all caps dwarfs the actual church) church while people roamed the streets outside picking up free warm cookies, peanuts, brownies, soups and cider all along the shops. It was a little like Gilmore Girls' Stars Hollow, only not as quaint, but it was hard to tell that in the dark, so it was all good.
And that's the weekend wrap up, my "gift" to you. How was yours? It has to be a better story than this, no matter what you did, unless you actually threw up or got kidnapped.
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