Sunday, the Mumples spent the day at Waldameer & Water World Park in Erie, PA. We had fun, and the Howler is really enjoying riding the rides.
Especially the Ravine Flyer II, the roller coaster that goes 160 mph, over the road. It's a wicked 60 or so seconds, and while I like the thrills of it, it's a bit rough on the ol' bod, yanno?
The Howler drags me onto it for the 2nd time near the end of the day. Big mistake for me! I could barely walk afterwards. As the Howler heads off the her next thrill, I realize I have lost my phone...
Not that it's a fabulous phone, mind you. Just a tracfone, but still! Crap! Damn!
I head back to the Ravine Flyer II, and I ask the chick at the gate if anyone found and turned in a cellphone. She's trying really hard to not smirk and shriek with laughter.
There are signs everywhere stating that if it's not actually stapled to your body, you're going to lose it, and they're not responsible. Sure, I get that, but the phone managed to stay with me the first time...
Crap. Damn. As the not yet laughing chick walks over to the dudes also working the ride, some guy is standing in the car the Howler and I were in, holding up my phone!
After a quick Hallelujah chorus, I walk back through the entrance to find the Howler.
If only they sold a t-shirt that read "the Ravine Flyer II kicked my ass" and another one that reads "my cellphone survived the Ravine Flyer II"
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Heigh-Ho
It's off to Camp she goes...
Our regional church sponsors a week-long summer camp for kids and teens. The Howler was eligible to go last year, but the trauma of even talking about sending her meant that she just was not ready to go. We've spent the past year, getting her mentally ready to go.
This year, the decision was made that she IS TOO going, when we were polluted with requests to spend the night at Missy's, attitude out the wazzoo, and the fact that she had a fantastic year in AWANAs that ended in a sleepover.
We signed her up. We packed her bags, and Bear. We loaded her and her stuff into the car and took her, fully expecting to get halfway there and the wailing to begin.
There was no wailing. We got a lot of nervous silence. Once we pulled into the camp driveway, she began chattering like a spazzy little bird on it's first little adventure.
"There's a volleyball court? I'm good at volleyball." and "That's a very nice building. What do we do there?" and "The pool has a diving board! Mommy! I LOVE DIVING BOARDS!" and "Who stays in that cabin? and that one?" The litany went on for at least 20 minutes about everything and how terrifically nice it all looked.
We waited patiently in line to register her. I'm getting increasingly nervous about leaving her asthma there--not her, I know she's so very ready for this! Her asthma, though, that worries me, more than I like to admit, even to myself.
While My Sweetie and I are checking in the compressor and nebulizer and all the various things she needs (extra rescue inhaler, albuterol for the nebulizer, anti-itch cream, tylenol) and telling the nurse that "yes, she does know and we've stressed to her to speak up! and no, letting her use the nebulizer isn't a problem at all!") SHE DISAPPEARS. HER STUFF DISAPPEARED, TOO.
We look around, and she, her stuff, a two people from our home church who are also dropping off teens, are helping her lug her stuff to her cabin. WITHOUT US--you know, the people who knew she was ready for this, even when she said she wasn't.
We walk into the cabin, and are installing her stuff in one of the bottom bunks (the tops were all taken--which was okay, since the Toad told her that's where the bugs hang out) and next thing we know, she's WALKING AWAY in a gaggle of girls.
Not even Little Girls, mind you. These were FULLY FORMED GIRLS. Not obnoxious, giggling teens, not tarted up little girls that make me cringe...GIRLS. She's one of five this year, and OMG!
We had to force her to give us a hug goodbye. Unless no one has thought to tell us, she's STILL there--this amazing little girl who said she didn't think she could stay the entire week...STILL THERE.
Oh, and the best part ever? She told them her name, and added "but you can call me Kitty!"
She is her mother's daughter.
Our regional church sponsors a week-long summer camp for kids and teens. The Howler was eligible to go last year, but the trauma of even talking about sending her meant that she just was not ready to go. We've spent the past year, getting her mentally ready to go.
This year, the decision was made that she IS TOO going, when we were polluted with requests to spend the night at Missy's, attitude out the wazzoo, and the fact that she had a fantastic year in AWANAs that ended in a sleepover.
We signed her up. We packed her bags, and Bear. We loaded her and her stuff into the car and took her, fully expecting to get halfway there and the wailing to begin.
There was no wailing. We got a lot of nervous silence. Once we pulled into the camp driveway, she began chattering like a spazzy little bird on it's first little adventure.
"There's a volleyball court? I'm good at volleyball." and "That's a very nice building. What do we do there?" and "The pool has a diving board! Mommy! I LOVE DIVING BOARDS!" and "Who stays in that cabin? and that one?" The litany went on for at least 20 minutes about everything and how terrifically nice it all looked.
We waited patiently in line to register her. I'm getting increasingly nervous about leaving her asthma there--not her, I know she's so very ready for this! Her asthma, though, that worries me, more than I like to admit, even to myself.
While My Sweetie and I are checking in the compressor and nebulizer and all the various things she needs (extra rescue inhaler, albuterol for the nebulizer, anti-itch cream, tylenol) and telling the nurse that "yes, she does know and we've stressed to her to speak up! and no, letting her use the nebulizer isn't a problem at all!") SHE DISAPPEARS. HER STUFF DISAPPEARED, TOO.
We look around, and she, her stuff, a two people from our home church who are also dropping off teens, are helping her lug her stuff to her cabin. WITHOUT US--you know, the people who knew she was ready for this, even when she said she wasn't.
We walk into the cabin, and are installing her stuff in one of the bottom bunks (the tops were all taken--which was okay, since the Toad told her that's where the bugs hang out) and next thing we know, she's WALKING AWAY in a gaggle of girls.
Not even Little Girls, mind you. These were FULLY FORMED GIRLS. Not obnoxious, giggling teens, not tarted up little girls that make me cringe...GIRLS. She's one of five this year, and OMG!
We had to force her to give us a hug goodbye. Unless no one has thought to tell us, she's STILL there--this amazing little girl who said she didn't think she could stay the entire week...STILL THERE.
Oh, and the best part ever? She told them her name, and added "but you can call me Kitty!"
She is her mother's daughter.
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