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...

It's a small world.

I'm not sure how to write this so that it makes sense. It is kind of confusing, but I will to try...

Several weeks ago I blogged about a random neighbor kid hopping into my car one morning for a ride to school. I guess this kid's mom Nellie is friends with someone I know from church (I'll call her Jane.)

Jane called me yesterday. Jane and her husband are going on a Pioneer Trek this week and their babysitter cancelled at the last minute. Jane told me that she was telling her friend Nellie (my neighbor) that she was looking for a babysitter.


Nellie my neighbor told Jane that she knew a lady who lived down the street (ME!!!) who absolutely loves kids and she was sure that I would love to babysit for her.


Jane asked her what this neighbor's name was and Nellie said, "Mindy." Jane laughed because she knows me from church and was planning to ask me to babysit anyway.

After that introduction, I had no choice but to say I'd babysit, right?



Anyway, apparently I have a random person living down the street named Nellie offering off my services to the neighborhood. Because I love children. And this is true. I do love children.

This whole conversation made me smile. Because it IS a small world after all.

Got Mustard?

We planted mustard seeds in our garden. We weren't sure what to expect but they grew. It turns out that it isn't really mustard at all. They are little lettuce leaves. Every time we eat them for dinner my husband comments that they don't taste like mustard at all.

Anyway. Last night as we ate our 10 little mustard leaves, my daughter asked if mustard doesn't come from mustard seeds, where did it come from?

Hmmm. Good question.

I had an idea. It was the first thing that came into my mind.

"Maybe mustard comes from an animal. You know, like milk comes from cows. Maybe mustard comes from milking an emu?"

Anna wasn't impressed. "You can't get milk from an emu, mom. Emus are birds."

"Have you ever tried milking an emu?" I challenged.

"An Emu isn't even a mammal." Anna knows stuff like this.

Okay. She might have a point.

So for the rest of dinner I had to endure the mocking taunts of "Emooooo" from across the table.

However, I still maintain that it's possible. Not for an emu of course. But maybe a different sort of mammal.

Random carpooling.

Monday morning. Ahh, another week begins. And it's my month to drive the carpool.

So I throw a sweatshirt on over my pj's and back the car out of the garage. And I wait for my daughter and the neighbor...

I watch in my rear view mirror as this kid wanders into my yard. He walks over to my car and gets into the back seat. I recognize him from the neighbor hood. I've seen him around. But I've never actually met or talked to him. And I don't know what his name is.

I'm waiting for him to say something. But he doesn't. He just sits there.

"So, where are you going this morning?" I ask.

"To the middle school," he replies.

"Well you're in luck---that's where I'm going." I still think he's going to explain why he's in my car. But he doesn't.

"Did my husband or someone tell you I would take you to school?" I know. It's awkward. But surely he talked to someone to make these arrangements. Right?

"No," he says. (Okay. Thanks for clearing that up.) And really I don't mind. Really. I don't. I'm going to the school anyway. It just feels so strange. And awkward. I mean is now a good time for me to ask him what his name is?

"So...you need a ride to school?" I just can't let it drop.

"Yeah. Um, my mom said the lady at the yellow house would take me to school." He mumbles this, clearly uncomfortable.

I live in a yellow house---and yet this still doesn't explain anything. Oh well. I tried.

For sure if he comes back tomorrow for a ride, I'm going to ask him what his name is.