Have you met my sister?

My sister and her five kids are living with me and my family this year.  It's been crazy but totally fun.  My sister is 38 years old. She is 3 years younger then I am. Twice in the past month people have thought I was her mother. Seriously? Do I look like I gave birth to a 38 year old? (Don't answer that.) After the second time, my sister whispered to me, "I told you to start using moisturizing cream." 

I've come to see that even though we grew up together, we are totally different.  I never thought of myself as being anti-social.  I mean, I've met all my neighbors.  The important ones at least---the ones on either side of me and across the street.  However i've discovered that I might not be as social as I thought I was.  After only being here for a month my sister had not only met every person up and down the whole street, but she had also brought them over some kind of homemade treat.

Someone from down the street stopped in front of my house the other day and said, "It's nice to meet you!  How long have you lived here?"  When I told him that we have lived here for 15 years, he replied, "Well now you don't have to say hello to us for another 15 years!"

The next time I questioned my social skills was at church.  Before Relief Society starts each week, my sister goes around the room giving everyone a back massage and rearranges everyone to make sure no one is sitting alone. (No, I'm not kidding...)  I tend to sit in the back row and have even tried to convince my daughter to fake a siezure so we could leave early.

So.  Have you met my sister?   Please don't sit around waiting for me to introduce her to you...chances are she'll be over shortly to get acquainted.  Most likely with baked goods.

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.