Happy New Year!

I’m hoping all of you had a wonderful holiday season and spent time with those you love and those you  don’t really love, but have to see regardless. I know I did. Thank you all so much for the Christmas cards filled with cash. Wait, did your Christmas cards not come filled with cash? Sounds like you have crappy friends.

Here we are once again at the dawn of a new year. 2012 seems to have flown by in the blink of an eye. Let’s take a look back at a few of the things we learned.

  • Mayans were as good at making calendars as Honey Boo Boo is at speaking English. 
  • Football really does matter to some folks, as evidence by an Alabama fan sexually assaulting an LSU fan after the BCS championship game. #keepingitclassy
  • I actually do NOT have gorilla boobs. (That was a close one.) 
  • Seaweed IS a snack.
  • The mullet is alive and well all-over the United States. 
  • Buddy races are NOT meant for husbands and wives. 
  • Despite my efforts to raise awareness of the needless “self-ies” posted daily on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, they continue to happen. I will continue to spread the word in the hopes of reaching at least one person. 
  • Amish people take vacations. Albeit crappy vacations, but who knew?
  • A lady named Patricia Krentcil may or may not have put her ginger kid in a tanning bed. Even if she did, it’s probably the least bad decision she made all year. 
  • Disney World hates the Wescott’s and the feeling is mutual. 
  • I was named 2012 Trophy Wife of the year, catching me completely by surprise for the ninth year in a row. 
Whew! That was a busy year. I can’t wait to see what 2013 holds. Happy New Year! And remember, if you live in my neighborhood and you shoot off fireworks after 10:30 tonight, I’m calling the cops on your ass. Take care now. 

Moms Getaway Part 2: Three Women And A Mission

After arriving at our destination, the rest of the weekend went as smooth as clockwork. We lounged on the beach and by the pool. We shopped and ate amazing food. We watched TV in bed, and most importantly of all we laughed. We laughed a lot.

Nice culottes, Granny.
 Caliza at Alys Beach
George’s at Alys Beach

When Sunday rolled around we packed our things and prepared for our journey home. Loren Leigh and I were in the bathroom packing our toiletries when Mary Marshall walked in and informed us that there was a leak downstairs. We all rushed down there to find water coming through the ceiling. A pipe somewhere had burst and the water was finding its way out by pouring from a speaker.

Mary Marshall’s first responder skills were right on point because before she even alerted us,  she had scoured the cabinets for a bowl large enough to contain the leak, thereby sparing quite a bit of furniture from damage. I’m pretty sure she was a paramedic in her former life.  I made a quick call to my uncle for some guidance.

My mind flashed back to the Luke Wescott flood of 2011, and I knew that we needed to get the water out of the ceiling as quickly as possible to keep it from spreading. I could hear my uncle’s confidence in me wavering a bit, but I like to think that he reflected back to the Billie Jean King in me that just one week before had put together a fire pit all by herself. He said, “If you can’t get the speaker to pop out, then at least poke a hole in the ceiling with a screwdriver.”

A larger garbage can had replaced the bowl because the water began steadily dripping down from all around the speaker frame. Mary Marshall held the ladder steady while Loren Leigh handed me tools like a surgical assistant. Every time I pried the edge of the speaker down,  more water poured out.

“Why don’t you get down and let me try,” Loren Leigh offered. I was happy to oblige. Then, with her bear hands, (That’s not a typo. I’m fairly certain she was channeling a grizzly bear) she took hold of the speaker and slowly pulled it down with arms shaking like a weak armed Olympian doing a pull up. With that, the leak slowed to a drip and our crisis was over. I like to think of that whole experience as our team building exercise for the weekend.

Piece of cake!

Afterward, we did the only thing that seemed appropriate. So back to the outlet malls we went. A little retail therapy always slows my heart rate back to normal, much like a prescription- a really expensive prescription.

Eventually, it came time for Mary Marshall to say her goodbyes and head to the airport. However, about thirty minutes later she called to say that Loren Leigh had left her J. Crew shopping bag in her rental car. “No problem,” said Loren Leigh. “Just leave the bag at the rental car place and we will come and get it.” We were then reminded by the rental car agent that under no circumstances could an unattended package be left at the airport, AND if she checked the bag she would be charged extra. To make matters worse, there was absolutely no fitting it in her already full suitcase.

That’s when the rental car agent made a suggestion. It was half insane, half brilliant. So Mary Marshall boarded her plane wearing four additional sweaters, a pair of socks, and a bracelet purchased earlier by Loren Leigh. She really took one for the team that day, dressed as what could only have looked like a homeless person layered up for a good night’s rest in a city park.

The ride home for Loren Leigh and me was much less eventful considering that we had a car charger for our phones. Had the navigation system not instructed us to make four consecutive U-turns, and then circle through a trailer park scary enough to give Honey Boo Boo nightmares, we would have made it home in under five hours. Hey, there’s always next time.

Route that navigation system took us on.
We thought it was a driveway, too.
And, you gotta love the curtains.
Can I get a “Row Tide?”