This week I'm volunteering on the food truck for the Cadets drum and bugle corps.  In between meals I ran to Walmart to pick up a couple of things my son forgot to pack (important stuff like shampoo and deodorant...) 

Anyway, I was carrying my shopping bags from the car to my room and I passed 4 different employees from the college we are staying at.  Each and everyone of them made some type of comment like, "It looks like you've been cooking!" or "I hope you are cooking something good!"  I couldn't figure it out.

Finally after the fourth person made a comment I replied that I had just gotten back from Walmart and did it look like I've been cooking?

The guy pointed at my apron and said figured I'd been cooking.  I looked down and sure enough I still had on my apron from the food truck.  Maybe this also explains some strange looks I had gotten earlier at Walmart...

Dream Weaver

I spent this past weekend volunteering on the Cadet's food truck for one of the winter camps. Last night I had a dream that the director of the Cadets told us that the only way we would be able to get a new food truck would be if we catered weddings on the off season.

The next thing I know the food truck volunteers were in a huge argument over whether or not we could serve ants on a log (celery topped with peanut butter and raisins) at the wedding reception.

In between the arguing, people kept coming up to me to congratulate me and also to thank me for arranging my mother to be the first wedding we would cater.

I saw my dad sitting at a table eating oatmeal and I started freaking out. I ran to my mom to find out what was going on. She insisted that this was a good cause and she wanted to support the Cadets.

I took the matter to the corps director and explained the situation. The verdict came quickly. My mom would be allowed to be married as long as I agreed to marry my father. Then they could charge for a double wedding. It would be a win-win situation.

I woke up this morning trying to figure out which was more upsetting. Me marrying my father or me having to have my wedding on the food truck.

Heather you said I hadn't written in a while and that you were unable to know what was going on here at home while you are away at college. In your honor I will blog about what I did this morning. So you will know what you are missing.

Mission Code Name: Not impossible, just really really hard.

When I woke up this morning I knew that today was the day. So it was with excitement and only a small amount of dread that I got out of bed this morning. With amazing efficiency, I dressed in my spy clothes. All black. (Which also double as running clothes). And I gathered my supplies.

I put new batteries in the flashlight, found eye protection, donned a knit cap and put on rubber gloves (so as not to leave fingerprints and also important for touching icky things.)

I was ready. And I have to admit that now that the adrenaline had kicked in I felt nothing but confidence as I climbed the ladder, removed the ceiling piece that led to the crawl space, and pulled myself up into the ceiling.

It wasn't exactly how I imagined it to be. Lying in my bed I had envisioned a spacious walkway with a tall peaked roof. And maybe a few forgotten valuable pieces of antique furniture tastefully arranged around the edges.

What there was, was a whole lot of insulation, darkness, and mouse droppings. Conspicuously missing was the walkway and antique furniture. I guess I'd always thought that 'crawl space' was just an expression...

Anyway, a while ago I had discovered a spot in one of the bedrooms that made me suspect a mouse had died and was currently decomposing on and, perhaps in the future, through the ceiling.

My mission was to find the perpetrator and dispose of the evidence.

I failed.

Surveying the situation I realized I was not properly trained and decided to retreat. Basically I threw myself back down the hole, falling down the ladder and couldn't get to the shower fast enough to wash off all the dirtiness.

But I am not giving up. I may have lost the battle but war is still on the horizon. I will regroup. Gather back-up. Maybe buy some more flattering black pants, and find a good position to run interference. Basically I want to watch...

And as for the rest of the day? Picture in your mind: Mindy versus the vacuum cleaner. The excitement never ends.

Flushing optional.

Yesterday I got to spend the day with the high school band at the Buckwheat festival. The band was marching in the parade. And we all know what this means.


Port-a-potties.


After the parade (where it rained on us) I ran to a port-a-potty cursing myself for getting 3 refills of Dr. pepper during lunch. I couldn't believe my luck that there wasn't even a line!

I went to reach for some toilet paper and discovered why there wasn't a line. The toilet paper was gone.


"Hello! Anyone out there?" I called outside. Nothing.


I waited a bit and tried again.


"Hello?"

"Are you talking to me?" a girl finally asked.


I told her the situation and asked her if she could grab some toilet paper from another port-a-potty and give it to me. It sounded reasonable. I would've done the same for someone else.


"They are all full, and, um, I really really need to go. Can you just come out before I pee my pants?" She sounded desperate.


So without any other options I gave up. I tried to use the complimentary hand sanitizer but found that it was also empty. But that turned out okay.


Because everyone knows that if you don't wipe you don't have to wash your hands. It's some kind of unwritten rule.


Right?

Say What?

I'm not sure if I mentioned that my niece from Switzerland is here living with us. She is going to try American high school and see how she likes it. I do hope she likes it, because we love having her here with us.

Anyway, this week my niece has to give a presentation in French class. She is a bit nervous to talk in front of the class so my husband was helping her organize the PowerPoint presentation. Then he explained how he gives presentations at work.

My niece didn't sound convinced: "You mean I have to tell them what I'm going to say, say it, and then tell them again what I just said? That seems like a lot of saying!"

"I know," my husband reassured her. "But you have to assume that everyone is an idiot."

My niece thought for a few seconds then nodded her head. "You are probably right Uncle Brian. I know for sure that three people in my class are idiots---I'm not sure about the rest though."

She cracks me up.

So in conclusion, my niece is giving a French presentation this week. I'm sure it will go well and hopefully even the idiots will be able to follow along.

More adventures from my week of volunteering on the food truck

I joined The Cadets in Oregon. The next day we drove to Washington. It wasn't a super long drive so we arrived at the school in WA at 2:30 AM. At this time we unload the food truck and get everything set up for breakfast. Then sometimes we can lay back down and sleep for a couple of hours.

It was a rough night and by the time we arrived in Washington I was pretty out of it. I stumbled off the RV and headed for the school. After finding a bathroom, I met a lady who had come over to the school to help us get situated.

"I'm here to help you!" she called over to me.

I told her I was okay. She smiled and patted me on the shoulder.

"Honey, your hoodie is on backwards, you aren't wearing any shoes, and you just came out of the men's bathroom. You are not okay."

Truer words have never been spoken.

Good Morning Sunshine!

Last week I was on tour with my son and The Cadets---a drum and bugle corps he marches with. I volunteered on the food truck and we prepared 4 meals a day for 200 people. It's hard work but I love it.

Anyway, usually The Cadets rehearse during the day, have a show and then travel during the night. The kids sleep on buses and us volunteers sleep on an RV. On days that we actually get to stay in the same place for more than one day we are given rooms inside the school where we can set up air mattresses and sleep for the night. The volunteers get one room and the bus drivers get another room.

One morning after a good nights sleep at a school, we were told we needed to make a Sam's run to stock up on food for the next 4 days. Someone needed to use the truck later that morning so they wanted us to go to the store right away.

Kevin who had the shopping list was still asleep. So they asked me to go wake him up. I was a little unsure how to go about waking him up so I asked some other volunteers for ideas. They decided the best way would be to jump on his bed and roll him onto the floor.

I went into the volunteer room and it was dark. There were 2 people still sleeping but I was pretty sure Kevin was the one closest to the door. I went over to the air mattress and whispered, "Kevin!" Nothing. So I jumped on the air mattress and started bouncing. Up and down, up and down, trying to roll him off to wake him up.

After what seemed like several minutes Kevin pulled the covers off of his head and looked at me. It wasn't Kevin. In fact I didn't even recognize the poor guy. I apologized profusely and left the room quickly.

Outside I was able to re-group. I could do this---after all there was only one more person left sleeping in the room. So cautiously I went back into the room and stood by the other air mattress. "Kevin!" I whispered again. Still nothing.

I started poking him in the arm. Repeatedly. Then tried shaking his arm. He rolled over and once again it wasn't Kevin.

Running from the room I went back to the food truck to admit my defeat. It was time to go and I still hadn't waken up Kevin.

"Oh, I think he decided to sleep in the driver's room last night," a helpful volunteer informed me. Great.

Luckily there was only one person sleeping in that room and I woke him up without any trouble.

After shopping a guy came up to me. He offered me his hand and said, "If you plan on jumping on my bed every morning I think we better introduce ourselves." I had hoped it would be too dark for him to recognize me...

Anyway, his name is Phil and he drives the brass bus.

Phil no longer sleeps in the volunteer room...