I've let a lot of what usually makes its way into the blog slip by over the past few weeks.
Most of it seemed too obvious to write about.
Like Allie vomiting in the car.
It was just a matter of time before it happened. In fact, it really wouldn't be our car until she emptied her stomach on to the back seat.
I was driving Allie to spend the week with her grandparents. We left our house at 10:00 a.m. and the drive went smoothly until around 11:00. That's when Allie spewed her breakfast all over herself and the back of the seat in front of her. I use the word spew because I turned around just as she issued forth her second salvo of vomit. She had become an oversized Wagner Power Painter with a slight sputter in the nozzle.
Allie's breakfast had been chocolate milk and pancakes. Milk puke stinks. The big problem I had was the new car. The napkins, bags and wipes that usually collect in our cars hadn't gathered yet. That meant the only thing I had was a pair of Allie's socks I found in her Winnie the Pooh suitcase.
The poor girl wound up standing naked on the side of a very busy four lane highway. I squatted in front of her as I dabbed my kid with a puke encrusted sock. How we avoided providing explanations to the authorities isn't clear.
Then there was my first spa experience.
Because Allie was gone for the week Deb and I decided to take a day off from work and spend some time together. We went to a day spa and had various treatments.
I had my first professional massage.
She rubbed my eyebrows.
I liked it.
The only problem was Deb and I left the place coated in just about every variety of scented emollient known to man. It didn't feel bad. In fact it felt decadent.
A lot of decadence got smeared on the windows and interior of our car as we drove to get something to eat.
Lunch was at the Ocean Grill. We each had a martini.
Deb got drunk.
The woman must have blood like spring water. For a good five to ten minutes she giggled with very little provocation while I looked at her slightly amazed and completely in love.
There's more. But I'm not too keen on the blog thing these days. Read this and you'll discover I'm not the only one. That doesn't mean I'm going to stop blogging. My overinflated notion that you are dying to read about Deb and I scrubbing the linoleum won't allow me to stop.
You should see our kitchen floor, by the way. It looks brand new.
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