Saturday, August 20, 2005

San Angelo INDEX

It's Saturday night...a wild and crazy night in our home. The girlies are with their Mama and Robert and I have been luxuriating, nerd-style, in a free and easy Saturday. Translation: Robert got up, read the paper and then sat at his computer for many hours and read articles and then worked out on his Nordic Track. Christen got up, checked her email and then sat in her "sanctuary" (i.e. Study or Guest Room, but doesn't that title add an air of mystique to it?) and read and then went running. doesn't get better than this. Every once in a while we'll wander into one another's space and either plant a kiss on a furrowed brow, whose eyes are heavily involved in the task of reading, or we'll ask, "Want a cup of tea?"

Yes siree...Saturdays at the 'ole homestead of a sociologist and hospice chaplain don't rock more than they do here.

You, dear reader, have probably noticed that there have been very few posts of late. Lest you think I have abandoned you...I'll let you know that INSTEAD I have been deeply ensconced in the wonders of family life in the suburban automobile traveling through the nether-regions of the midwest and into that foreign territory known as Tex-ASS (see previous post of my 4th grade humor when saying that word). We went. We saw. We ate. And here, upon our return home...I provide you with the San Angelo INDEX...a register of our family's trek to West Texas in August. Picture if you will, our very own personal Harper's Index...

  • Miles traveled from Fort Wayne, Indiana to San Angelo, Texas: 1,265.
  • Hours spent in car "enjoying" family bondage, I mean bonding: 42.
  • Number of pornographic passages of "family" books read aloud: 1.*
  • Number of pounds gained by husband while on vacation: 2.
  • Number of pounds gained by self on vacation: 1.
  • Approximate percentage of body weight gained by each spouse: >.05%.
  • Number of pounds gained by dachshund while family on vacation: 3.
  • Approximate percentage of body weight gained by dachshund while staying with Grandma and Grandpa: 30%.
  • Number of "Big-Ass Crosses" seen while traveling: 2.
  • Number of state license plates viewed while driving: 38.
  • Number of bathrooms at gas-stations and fast food restaurants rating higher than an "8" on a scale of 1-10: 7.
  • Number of Subway "Kid's Pack" meals consumed while traveling: 12.
  • Number of times eldest child claimed to spot Brittany Spears in an Applebee's restaurant in Missouri: 1.
  • Number of dead armadillos spotted: 3.
  • Number of times husband burst out in ecstatic singing of the song "Oklahoma" while driving through the state of Oklahoma: 3.
  • Number of margaritas consumed while in Texas by parents: 7.
  • Number of hours from time single margarita was consumed by husband until husband needed to take a nap: 1.
  • Number of days we have to wait until we travel to Texas next summer: 357.
It was truly a well-needed and well-enjoyed vacation for us all. We're so thankful for having such kind family to host us.

*From Chapter III of Carolyn Keene's The Haunted Bridge (Copyright 1937). In which Nancy Drew wonders whether or not she can compete in a golf tournament after falling off a balcony into a flower bed while stepping away from a boy who was a little too "forward." A doctor has come to examine the wounded sleuth. Nancy waits in her hotel room with her boyish friend George Fayne and poor, overweight, pathetic Bess. I quote exactly as it is written. Robert said that the way the scene should have ended was in Nancy having a cigarette.

"Nancy stands a very good chance of participating in the tournament," Bess told the doctor. "It would be a shame if she couldn't play."
"Well," he said finally, after studying Nancy with twinkling eyes, "I suppose you could play. But right now I advise against it. However, by tomorrow night I may alter my opinion."
Dr. Aikerman picked up his physician's bag. "Nancy, I suggest a hot bath and a body massage to prevent your muscles from becoming stiff." The idea rather appealed to Nancy, who felt battered and sore.
After the doctor had gone, George spoke up, "Bess and I could give you a good rub."
Nancy regarded her dubiously.
"There's absolutely nothing to it," Bess put in."You locate the various muscles and then rub until the soreness is all gone."
Nancy allowed herself to be persuaded. After the hot bath, she stretched herself full length on the bed.
"Where do you hurt the most?" George inquired.
"Everywhere." Nancy groaned. "Oh, don't rub in that spot, please, George. It's too tender!"
"I have to massage the muscles," her friend insisted.
"Where did you get that bottle of liniment?" Nancy demanded. "It smells awful."
"This is a free massage, so don't be so critical,"
Bess relieved George when the latter's arms grew weary of the task. There was no rest or relaxation for Nancy. She was pummeled and pounded by her well-meaning but inexperienced masseuses until she felt ready to cry from sheer exhaustion.
"Oh, girls, I can't stand any more," she pleaded finally. "Just let me crawl under the covers and go to sleep."
"We're through now, anyway," Bess declared, as she helped Nancy roll over on her back again. "In the morning you'll feel fine."

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