Man, I'm Tired!

It has been confirmed that I am, indeed, a Laughing Old(er) Lady, possibly with extra emphasis on “old”! A few weeks ago, I had a weekend houseguest. We had a lovely weekend, but oh, my! I could barely open my eyes Monday morning and even after a couple cups of coffee, I still felt like I had been run over by a truck. The reason I was so worn out (albeit happy and laughing) is pretty simple – my houseguest was a 16-year-old girl who arrived for supper on Friday, and left around 3:30 Sunday.

Now remember, I am a divorced, childless LOL who has lived alone for the last ten years. I have had a reclusive cat for the past two years, but Cashmere doesn’t talk much, doesn’t keep up with current events, and seldom shares her opinions with me unless we are discussing whether it’s time for me to feed her. I assure you, my guest was much less demanding regarding food and much more forthcoming regarding life!

We stayed up way past my bedtime on Friday night engaged in a quite lively, interesting conversation before we plotted our strategy for errands and thrift-store-shopping on Saturday. It was a delightful evening, but I was dog-tired when we finally staggered to our rooms.

Saturday was an outstanding day. Despite our well-laid plans, we slept right through breakfast-time. Not a pair to sweat the small stuff, we hit a neighborhood diner for lunch then we launched into overdrive. We did the critical errands but we never made it to any thrift stores. We headed that way, then started thinking of other things we needed to see and do. We never slowed down until we had hit a few antique stores, several boutiques, a plant store, and the Market Basket (which is kind of the Tuesday Morning of craft/hobby stores). Somewhere in there, we stopped by the local snowball shop to cool off and rest our weary feet. By the time we finished our whirlwind of activity, then cooked and ate supper, it was dark and I was feeling a little ramshackle as we engaged in our respective restful, arty activities (knitting for me and sketching for her) prior to heading for bed. I was happy to note that my guest was a little tired, too, and we went to bed at a reasonable time that night. (At my age, feeling worse for the wear after an active day is alleviated somewhat when a much younger person is also feeling used up. I believe I represented my generation quite well by not collapsing immediately following the dishes. HA!)

We went to 8:30 church on Sunday, then rested at home for a while before we set out for lunch in the Paseo district. We dined on the patio at Sauced. My companion ordered a Rice Krispy Treat that was still warm – and shockingly large – in addition to pizza. Here’s what we ate. The Rice Krispy Treat (in the back in the bottom photo) was about half eaten by the time we got our pizza, so you can see how enormous it was initially!

After the delicious pizza, we hit several of the cool shops in the area. We saw a lot of fun stuff, but seriously, I think this was my favorite display:

Seriously? Someone will pay $20 for a shirt from the ‘70s? 

We spent more time in Ulta on Sunday afternoon than I had cumulatively spent there since I first saw an Ulta in the ‘90s, and it was hilarious experience. We saw and tried out things I’d never before actively considered, including lime green lipstick. (It’s not for me.) We had a lovely chat with a young woman who demonstrated how my guest could fill in and darken her eyebrows, then showed me how to cover up the white in mine. (sigh)

From my point of view, the weekend was a smashing success. It was a hoot to find balled-up socks in the dining room on Saturday morning and a pair of shoes sprawled next to art supplies in the living room on Sunday. Parents doubtless grow weary of seeing teenage detritus strewn about the house, but the things I saw made me happy because it meant my guest felt at home in my home. She kept her bathroom spotlessly clean, helped with the cooking and the dishes, and even insisted on taking me out for lunch on Sunday. By about five minutes after she arrived, the guest bedroom looked like a bomb had gone off in there – in fact, I wondered where all the stuff had come from because she brought only a backpack with her – but everything was perfectly ship-shape when she left.

Based on our subsequent interactions, I say with confidence that my teenaged guest enjoyed our weekend together as much as I did. I hope she comes back soon!

A note about snowballs:

Aloha, our local shop, is located at the corner of Route 66 (aka 39^th Expressway) and Council Road in front of the Sears Homestore in Bethany, Oklahoma. Aloha is a year-round snowball / coffee shop. They have good food, too. I’ve tried quite a few menu items with no disappointments; the chicken salad is particularly delicious. I have visited Aloha for breakfast, lunch, and/or an iced coffee many times, but I had never tried a snowball. Big mistake!! Their snowballs are the best! Order a snowball “Hawaiian style” for a scoop of ice cream at the bottom; you will be happy you did. There are many tempting flavors, all so delicious you will swoon! I had German Chocolate Cake and my guest had Cappuccino. YUM!! All the employees are delightful – friendly and helpful. If you happen to be in the area, go there! You won’t regret it!  

Oh, and there's indoor seating, too, and shelves of games and books in case you need entertainment while you eat and drink. 

Amarillo at Lunchtime

Earlier this summer, my friend Laura, who lives in Santa Fe, and I decided to meet for the weekend. Amarillo is pretty close to halfway between us so we met there.

On arrival, it being too early to check into our hotel, we decided to grab lunch at the Fuddrucker’s we saw across the highway. We drove over (talking), hopped out of the car (still talking), zipped into Fuddrucker’s (still talking). There was a nice young woman standing just inside the door. We stopped talking when she said “hello” and she gave us a sheet of paper, explaining that the items listed on the paper were the only choices for lunch that day. That was unexpected, but we could see the place was brand-new, so we figured they were still getting things straightened out. As we placed our orders, we noticed there was an extra person by the cashiers who gave them assistance as needed. “Wow,” we said to each other, “this must be their first week to be open.”

After we ordered, the cashier told us there was no charge for lunch but that we could make a donation to the American Quarter Horse Association if we wished. She pointed to a flyer we had not seen on the counter next to a jar with money in it. We each dropped money into the jar and wandered off to find a table, talking about how cool it was that Fuddrucker’s was raising money for the AQHA.

Laura and I had not seen each other in six years. We have spoken on the phone often, but that’s not the same as face-to-face, so we had a lot to talk about. We talked and talked. A server came by to see if we needed anything. She was very friendly and we had quite a long three-way conversation. We told her how we had met in Santa Fe, hadn’t seen each other in six years, and were spending the weekend in Amarillo. She was very nice to listen to us. She even took our picture.

Just as we finished eating, another employee came by our table – the young woman who had been supporting the cashiers. She was quite friendly, also, and told us she is a trainer based in Albuquerque. She travels around helping train employees when new restaurants open in the southwest. Well, well! We told her the story of our meeting while I lived in Santa Fe, how much we both loved the Albuquerque Fuddrucker’s, our fabulous weekend plans for Amarillo, and more. She made us promise to look for her next time either of us went to Albuquerque’s Fuddrucker’s.

She asked how we had enjoyed our lunch and the service at the Amarillo store, and since (a) we had had very good service and the food was delicious, and (b) we knew she was a trainer and would judge her trainees by what we said, we raved on and on about how delightful everyone had been, how much we had enjoyed our meals, and how absolutely awesome it was that Fuddrucker’s was raising money for the American Quarter Horse Association. She expressed her delight with our excellent experience “especially since you weren’t invited,” and then immediately moved on to talk about how nice everyone in Amarillo had been to her and how much she had enjoyed being there for the past couple weeks, and so on. Eventually, she bade us farewell and went back to her duties.

When the trainer left our table, we looked at each other. Then I asked, “Did she say we weren’t invited? Is this a private party?”

Laura considered for a moment. “Well, there was a special menu.”

We looked at each other again. “Did you see a sign or anything anywhere?” Neither of us had.

Everyone we passed on our way to the door smiled, waved, and told us to have a great weekend. We responded in kind, and walked out the door saying to each other how lovely everyone at Fuddrucker’s had been. As we reached my car, I said, “Wait. I want to look at the door.” I jogged back to the restaurant’s main entrance, and, hmmm, yes. It seems we were so busy yakking when we arrived that we whipped the door open and entered without actually looking at the door. Taped below the handle was an 8-1/2 by 11 sheet of paper noting that the restaurant was not yet open for business but was hosting a Friends and Family lunch that day.

After we stopped laughing, we consoled ourselves that the AQHA was glad we had overlooked the sign because they made some extra money. One of us pointed out that even had we been paying better attention, we may still not have noticed the sign as it was written with a small font and posted in an odd location.

Laura and I are Party Crashers, but not very skilled ones. In lieu of paying for our $20 lunch, we gave the American Quarter Horse Association $40. We crashed the event by accident. We didn’t meet anyone famous (except perhaps our new friend, the trainer from Albuquerque). We didn’t get any free booze.

We are sorry for our faux pas.

We suspect we should probably be as embarrassed about our general ineptitude as we should be about our inadvertent event crashing.

We will try to stop laughing whenever we see a Fuddrucker’s.

Righty-Tighty, Lefty-Loosey

My friend Mike bought a house earlier this month and a week or so ago he planted a couple hundred dollars’ worth of flowers and shrubs out front. They need to be watered every day in this weather.

Mike went camping this weekend so he asked if I would be out and about today and if so, if I would run by and turn the sprinkler on for 10 minutes to keep his new plants from dying while he was out of town. I was indeed out and about today; in fact, I left my house at 8:30 a.m. and didn’t back to our side of town and over to Mike’s until close to 8:30 p.m.

The flower bed I was watering is just off the porch, the water faucet is just reachable from the porch, and the sprinkler is the kind that makes the pretty arc of water go back and forth. So, I leaned over and I swear to you, I gave that faucet handle just one small turn. A rush of water immediately smacked me right in the face. Yes, the sprinkler was at the point in its cycle to arc my direction, and the half-inch turn I gave the handle was enough to shoot the water five feet across the flower bed. Immediately after blasting me full-face, the sprinkler started the journey to the other side of the flower bed which caused the arc of water to spray onto the porch overhang and then pour straight down onto me. So, my face was blasted again and the overhang ricochet flooded down the back of my shirt. I quickly tried to turn the water off, but alas, I turned the handle the wrong direction so instead of turning the water off I turned it on full blast. Of course, that shot the water violently into the soffit and a lot more water rained down upon me.

At that point I was soaking wet, water was still pouring down my face from my hair and my glasses, and I couldn’t see a thing. I dashed down the driveway to regroup.

Once I was out of the line of fire, I remembered “righty-tighty, lefty-loosey” and realized what I had done, so I waited for the sprinkler to look the other way, ran back and turned the water off, then turned the faucet by the millimeter until the water was watering the plants but not the entire porch and me.

Then I staggered to my car and grabbed my phone to text Mike a stirring description of my experience. Before I could type more than “Well, NUTS!” however, my phone rang and it was Mike on the line.

That’s when the entertainment factor became ridiculous. You see, Mike has Digital Life, so he has motion detectors and cameras everywhere, and the system sends him text messages when he is away. Soooo, as I was returning to my car to text him about my adventure with his sprinkler, Mike received two things from the Digial Life system: (1) an alert that there was motion on his porch and (2) a picture of me running away from the house. I’m not sure he could tell I was all wet in the picture, but he could tell I was running. Of course I was laughing hysterically when I answered the phone and then we were both laughing hysterically when he told me about the picture and I told him how his sprinkler tried to drown me. He said, “You are such a dork” all through my story before saying at the very end, “I love you” in the same tone he uses when someone does something he thinks is incredibly stupid and he says to the person, “You’re so pretty.”

So, here’s my Saturday evening:

I do Mike a favor.

I am drenched by Mike’s crazed sprinkler and sensitive faucet handle.

Mike calls me a dork. (Several times.)

Then Mike calls me, in a very sweet tone and in a very roundabout way, a total idiot.

I laugh my socks off.

Mike laughs his socks off.

I’m pretty sure that after we hung up, Mike told my sad tale of water and woe to his friends and family camping with him and they all laughed their socks off.

Good time had by all.