$700 Candy Machine

It has been well documented and established that I enjoy the process of finding and then filling “house holes”, “car holes”, most any opening that resembles a “hole” with random objects.  The reasons for stuffing treasures into the unknown are endless…almost as endless as the number of new holes I find on a daily basis.

So when I came upon a new and exciting pipe-like hole that sticks out the side of my new house and sits at approximately my shoulder height, I was more than willing to conjure up a reason to fill it.

Only limited by my imagination, I decided this would be the depository for “money” (aka: small rocks) and the hose spicket conveniently located next to said pipe, would be the output of “candy” (aka: water).  The more money, the more candy, and repeat.  I enjoyed hours of wet fun depositing my coins and being rewarded with soggy clothes.


It wasn’t until last week, when the weather decided to turn cold, and my warm-blooded Mom needed a little furnace action to warm the house, that my “candy machine” was discovered.

After several attempts to fix the furnace himself, my Dad finally swallowed his pride, opened his wallet and called the friendly heating and cooling professionals.

It took approximately 20 minutes of disassembly for him to produce a handful of rocks (aka: money) to my Dad, and ask, “Do you know what this is?”

Forgetting that complete smartasses have assimilated themselves into everyday society, my Dad replied, “A handful of rocks?”

Heating and cooling specialist's response, “Nope.  That’s 700 bucks.” [Insert halfwit smile proudly gloating at his cleverness]

Needless to say, my candy business came to a screeching halt at the discovery that the hole was actually the furnace output and the deposited rocks had fried the conductor board.

Who knew?

I have a feeling that when I go to cash in on my college fund it may not be as plentiful as my sisters due to all of the repairs.

Oh well…on to the next hole.

Holy-Moly Guacamole!

It’s not often I give props to my Mommy for letting me be me, so today I would like to repent for all of the shenanigans she is subject to on a regular basis and give a huge shout of thanks for supporting my creativity today.

As many of you know, I am the youngest of three children, with two older sisters.  I am also the product of a habitually-overcommitting-stay-at-home-mom who spends most of her time with other moms of the like.

That being said, I am in touch with my feminine, nurturing side.

So with half a doll shoved underneath my shirt, the other half dangling out, and my head held high because I love all the attention, I trotted my confident behind into Costco pretending “I have a baby in my tummy”.

Ask any expectant mother, and they will tell you that when the baby decides “it’s time”, there’s not much you can do other than let nature take over.
A slightly lesser known fact, is when a pretend baby decides “it’s time”, nature AND drama take over, and there’s no telling what will happen.

So while at the first free sample station, things got really interesting when my baby decided “it was time”.

I took one bite of a nuclear-hot rice, bean and cheese burrito, layed down in the extra-long cart seat and yelled, “HOLY-MOLY GUACAMOLE!”

The poor Costco sample-giver thought I had caught on fire and rushed over to make sure I was ok.  My questioning Mom, on the other hand, was slightly more discerning in her empathy.

After some louder-than-necessary yells, I proudly announced “MY BABY DECIDED TO BE BORN!” and pulled the floppy figure from under my shirt.  I quickly swaddled her in the pink gingham blanket I brought and gently kissed her plastic cheek as any adoring new mother would.

My Mom just smiled.

But after ignoring “the looks” we got while walking into the store, dismissing the disapproving “greater” who criticized “a boy having a doll”, it was the overzealous religious extremist that brought out the “Mama Bear” alter-ego that lies deep within my protective Mother’s brain.

She actually allowed that long-skirted, crazy-eyed, finger-pointer with four kids in tow to get in a few words about being “tolerant to Satan’s gay teachings” until she did something I don’t think anyone saw coming.

She actually hugged that crazy bitch.

With a big smile on her face, she hugged her and said, “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry you are so ignorant.  Have a blessed day.”

As we walked away, the already sour-faced woman’s look went from anger to complete confusion.

She was almost as confused as me.  I just sat there in silence holding my baby while my Mom just smiled at me.

I don’t know much about being a Mommy, but now that I have a baby of my own, I think I might let her be anything she wants...and just smile.