A Bit of a Scare

My sweet husband...

Last night I asked him to go with me to the school where I work so I could put a gift on the desk of one of the office ladies whose birthday is today.

The reason I asked him is because, frankly, my school feels super scary at night. It always reminds me of the original "Halloween" movie when they're in the school and the hallways are only lit by the red exit signs. Scare-freakin'-ree!

So what did my sweet husband do? Well, he took every opportunity to freak me out. And I held it together just fine until we had left and I was waiting for him to get in his side of the car and unlock mine...but he didn't do that...he sneaked around to my side and jumped at me.


"Aaaaaaa!"


I think from now on I'll be expecting him to open my door for me.  Good thing he's so freakin' cute.

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New Favorite Activity

It's official.  I have a new favorite activity.


1st - Go through a haunted house enough times to memorize everything and no longer be scared of anything.

2nd - Follow people through the haunted house that look like they're likely to be screamers. 

3rd - Maybe, just maybe, scare them at just the right time.


Good times!

Boo!

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Happy Halloween and Happy Birthday to my Little Guy!!!

Sixteen years ago today we welcomed our little guy to this world of ours.  He was born at home in our bed and and that evening when Trick-or-Treaters rang the doorbell, my very proud husband introduced all the little ghosts, goblins, and witches to our very own little spook.  He gave them candy, too, of course...because, really, those kids weren't all that interested in a baby.  But soon all the neighbors showed up to meet the newest resident...and then more neighbors...and then more.  I'm pretty sure he set a world record that day for meeting the most people in the first twelve hours of life.

And maybe it's how he would've turned out regardless of the day he was born, but my little guy is obsessed with tricking me.  Here's what's happened to me in just the last twenty-four hours.


• A sticky slug toy was shot at me and it went "splat" on my neck and stuck there.  Bleck!

• The same slug was left for me to "accidentally" step on when I was barefoot.

• I've turned my head only to have my cheek poked by a waiting pointer.

• As we went through my brother's awesomely scary haunted house I was touched or had things thrust at me to "enhance" my experience.

• Ice has been put down my back.

• A skeletal hand has been placed on my shoulder repeatedly.

• A walking hand has graced the top of my head.


And I freak out.  Every.  Time.  It's my little gift to my little guy who has given me so much happiness, joy, and bliss over the years.


Happy Birthday, Little Guy...We love you!!!

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The First Time I got Busted by the Cops

For some reason, lately every time I see the color green, this old memory comes flooding back.


I must've been nine or ten.  It was a perfect summer day, with perfect weather, in perfect Palo Alto, California, in my grandparents' perfect neighborhood.  I was riding my beyond amazing green banana seat bike with tall handlebars.  Proudly printed on the frame were the words "Dill Pickle," and the playing card I had clipped near my spokes was making the most satisfying purr.  My brother was seated behind me.  No helmets.  No worries.  Wind in our hair.  Bliss!

And then a police officer pulled up beside us and demanded that we stop immediately.  Which we most certainly did.


Police Officer:  "Only one passenger per seat."


I looked at my banana seat that clearly provided ample room for my bottom, my brother's bottom, and at least one more friend's bottom, and looked back at the cop.

I think it was at that moment that I realized that not all laws made make sense...or at least the bad ones shouldn't apply to me.

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