Mothagedon

Sep 16, 2011

It all started with a rotten sack of potatoes.

Actually, it goes back a bit further than that, to our dryer vent getting clogged again.

For several reasons that are too long to go into, but involve my husband being suspicious of duct cleaning companies, we’ve been letting our dryer vent directly into the laundry room.  Which is also our pantry.

Along with all the lint, dryers also expel a lot of humidity.  Besides making our walls a bit mushy, it also dampened some of our food, and sent a bag of potatoes straight to hell.

Mom: You know that horrid smell in the kitchen I’ve been complaining about?

Me: Yes?

Mom: I found out where it was coming from. It was the potatoes!  Thank goodness they were in that plastic tub, because they were practically melted into goo.  But that’s not the worst part.  They were covered in MAGGOTS.

Me: Maggots?  Wha?

Mom: Yes!  I was dry heaving the whole time.  Everything got bagged up and put directly into the trash.

And then she dry heaved again at the memory.

I have never been more happy to have my mom living with us.  Bless her heart for being the one to find, and clean up, that mess.  It made having a cold and no sense of smell seem like a God send.

It also shed some light on the moths that had taken up residence in the pantry.

Me: I bet that’s where the moths are coming from!

Mom: Those things are really hard to get rid of.  I cleaned out the maggots, so I’ll leave the moths to you.

That seemed like a totally uneven trade.  In my favor.  So I just nodded and went to bed, thinking that it’d be an easy job to tackle the next day.  How hard could it be to get rid of a few moths, especially after their breeding grounds had been eliminated?  So far sucking them up with the Dustbuster had been working just fine.

A few days later the moth population had exploded, completely taking over the laundry room/pantry and overwhelming my vacuuming abilities.  I knew it was time to finally take care of business when I went in to change a load of laundry and got dive-bombed by hundreds of moths, several trying to enter me through my nostrils.  I sputtered and flailed my way out, shrieking to Gilberto to come help me.

Cleaning out that damn room was harder than I’d ever imagined.  Not only did we have to remove every item and wash every surface, we had to open up every single container to look for cocoons.  I opened a brand new box of cereal and a moth flew out, straight into my mouth.  If I come down with some weird disease in the next few months, it’s probably from that moment RIGHT THERE.

There were cocoons under cans, in boxes, in bags and in the cookbooks.  There were even a few inside the blender and coffee maker.  There must’ve also been some inside the back of the washer or dryer, because despite our efforts, within a few days the moths were back.

I do have a very nice looking pantry now, though.  Filled with hidden worms in cocoons, but nice looking all the same.

So now I’m thinking that my mom definitely got the better end of the deal.

And as for getting rid of the moths, perhaps fly tape will work?  Though I’m partial to bleaching that room from top to bottom and just buying a new washer and dryer.

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Excuse Me, You Have A Giant Piece Of Greenery Wrapped Around Your Tooth

Aug 29, 2011

I spent a good 15 minutes of Sunday’s 60 minute sermon focused on a woman’s head in front of me.  She had her hair up in a banana clip (I know!  But apparently those are making a comeback right along with scrunchies, Heaven save us all), but she’d missed a large chunk on the right side and it was hanging down her back.

And by focused I mean I spent 15 minutes imagining myself tucking that chunk of hair right back up into that banana clip.  It’s a good thing she was a few rows up, because I could feel my hand twitching and I don’t know what I would’ve done if she was within touching distance.  I’d probably be looking for a new church again.

I’m the kind of person that will tell you if your skirt is stuck in your underwear, if you have ink on your face or if you have noticeable wax build-up in your ear.  I’ve even pushed wayward tags back into clothing without asking.  Which I admit, may be going a bit too far, but I just can’t help myself.  It’s all because, if I was in the same situation, I’d want someone to tell ME.

If I have a hair hanging out of my nose, please tell me.

If my zipper is down, please tell me.  (A HUGE shout-out to Mel for doing this very thing at BlogHer, after I’d paraded my pants past a dozen tables full of women sitting with eyes at Underwear Peephole Level who didn’t say a thing.)

If my mascara is smudged underneath my eyes making me look dead, if my socks don’t match (or shoes, for that matter, which has already happened twice this year), or if I have food crusted to the front of my shirt, or stuck in my teeth, please tell me!

And I will do the same for you.

And I’m going to work on the telling before helping part.

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Two Bear Stories, Only One Happy Ending

Aug 22, 2011

I have a sick fascination with bear stories.

I hate blood and gore and terror, but wrap it up with a bear and I’ll take it any way you give it to me.    Just hearing the word bear makes the hair on my arms stand on end and my pulse quicken.  As long as I’m not directly involved, of course.

I have no logical explanation for the why of it, other than that my first seven years were spent in Alaska and I probably heard my fair share of bear stories in that time, imprinting a beastly esteem on me.

When I came across this tweet on Twitter, it was like I’d just discovered a delicious desert.

 

 

The whole close call with a bear part was enough to capture my attention, but the hashtag, that thrilling little addendum, alluded to a wonderful, hair raising story.  It did not disappoint!  In fact, FearfulGirl has a whole section on her blog dedicated to close calls while traveling, and they are a pretty awesome read.

My family has also had a few personal encounters with bears.

My Aunt had gone to visit some friends deep in the Alaskan wilderness, and while she was there a man who lived in a cabin on the other side of the lake ran up screaming for help. A bear had broken into their house and he and his wife had escaped through a second-story window onto the roof. His wife distracted the bear so he could jump down and run for help.

My Aunt’s friends grabbed their guns and headed to the cabin, but by the time they got there, the bear had found a way onto the roof and mauled the woman to death.

The rangers told them that the bear had probably smelled that it was the woman’s time of the month

How’s THAT for a bear story?  A good reminder not to live out in the middle of nowhere if you don’t like the possibility of getting eaten.  Just sayin’.

When Gabi was two, we went to Alaska to visit my dad, step-mom and little sister.  Gilberto was obsessed with seeing a bear, and luck was on his side a few nights in when we were woken up by a bear in the backyard going through the trash.

My dad stood to the side of the sliding glass doors with his gun as the bear climbed up the steps to the deck.  We  huddled in the living room, Gilberto excited beyond belief, me frozen in terror.  A pane of glass will not stop a determined bear, and it was my time of the month.  I just KNEW that bear was going to break into the house and eat me, just like what happened to that poor woman on the lake.

I obviously survived.  Luckily the bear didn’t see, or, ahem, smell anything of interest, and moved on down the road.

So while I love talking about bears, and hearing about bears, I do not like putting myself in the paths of bears.  No more camping for this girl.  Not even in a camper.  A bear would have no problem prying that thing open like a sardine tin and plucking us out one by one.

Do you have any exciting or scary animal encounters?

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Sometimes You Just Need A Freakin Leash

Aug 15, 2011

A friend of a friend was stopped at the mall and told that she was a horrible mother for having her twin toddler sons on leashes.  She was so shocked and upset that she didn’t say a thing.

I WISH that would happen to me so I could open a can of whoop-ass on the busybody stupid enough to meddle in my business.  I’d send her home crying.

Chasing after one toddler is hard enough, let alone TWO of them.  And even if you’re eagle eyeing your kid while firmly grasping their hand, when a toddler’s attention gets distracted by something, they suddenly have super human strength and can rip their hand from yours and be 100 feet away in a matter of seconds.  Parents of twins know that means two kids running in opposite directions.

And screw the whole psychological aspect of it.  That poor kid is more likely to be messed up from a stranger berating his mom in public than from being held back by a leash from running away and/or reeking havoc.

So kudos to any parent that feels they need to use a leash to keep their children safe, because they know their child’s antics better than some old bat walking by at the mall.  Better safe than sorry.

 

John Lennon with son Julian

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The BlogHer ’11 Laughter Jam

Aug 13, 2011

The thing I will remember most about BlogHer ’11 was the laughter.  The sessions were fantastic, the connections amazing, and the swag really really good.  But the laughter was the best part of it all.  And most of it, true to form, from a pile-up of embarrassing moments.

 

Photo Booth 

When I tweeted this:

I was referring to this:

   

The thing about photo booths is that the flash goes off whether you’re ready for it or not.  And keeps going off until one of you ends up bent over, clutching her stomach and totally out of the very last picture, while the other clasps her hands to her chest in an effort to get a breath in through the hee-hawing.

We emerged from the booth laughing like hyenas, stumbling over our waiting bags because we couldn’t see through the tears streaming down our faces.

A Pfizer rep rushed over and asked to film us, and we stupidly said yes, even though our hair was sticking to our wet cheeks and I was wielding a roll of toilet paper that I’d managed to dig out of my purse to help us mop up our running makeup.

When we finally recovered, we noticed that everyone on the floor within viewing distance was staring at us.  Including the guy holding out our pictures.

Me: You must see this all the time!

Guy: No, not really.

He gave us an unamused smile and turned back to staring at the wall across the floor.  Which makes me wonder what exactly that video is going to be used for!  Like, printing out a still and playing Pin The Tail On The Idiots.

 

Trapped In An Elevator

I walked onto the elevator and recognized the name on the badge of the guy in the corner.

Me: Oh!  HEEEYYY!  I follow you on Twitter!

Him: Cool!

Me: Yeah, my husband is Brazilian and we travel a lot, and I love your travel suggestions.

Him: I don’t write about traveling.

Me: Um, oh.  You don’t write about traveling with your kids?

Him: Uh, no.

Blank looks.  Blinking.

Me: I guess I have you confused with someone else.

Him: Yep.

What do you do at that point?  Turn and face the doors, hiding your badge with your purse so he can’t get a look at who you are, and wait in awkward silence all the way up to your floor, where you saunter off the elevator, trying to walk slowly so he won’t think you have a care in the world, even though you both know you just made an ass of yourself.

I found out later that he’s HUGE in the blogging world.  I think I was the only person at the conference who didn’t know who he was.  I do now.

 

Mistaken Identity

As I was leaving a media event I saw a friend from across the room, bending over a pile of paperwork.  I ran up to her, yelling, “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I didn’t see you before now!  When did you get here?”  My friend turned and we gave each other a really big hug.  As I pulled away and saw her face, I realized, it was NOT my friend.  In fact, I’d never seen this person before in my life.

Her: Oh, I know!  It’s so good to see you!  My plane got in a little late so I slipped in after it started.

I could see her trying to sneak a look at my nametag.  She didn’t know who I was, either!

Me: It’s so good to see you, too!  Hey, I have to run out for a minute, but we’ll catch up later!

Her: Okay! Sounds great!

I escaped out of the room and hid in the bathroom until I could figure out a way out of my mix-up.  I really had to give her credit for going with the flow!  I decided to go the honesty route, but when I walked back by the room, she was gone.

Two nights later I was at a party when someone grabbed my arm.  That someone being HER!

Her: Hey!  How’re you doing?1  Isn’t this a great party?

Me: Yeah!  Hey, I have to admit something to you.  I thought you were someone else when I went up to you the other day, and you were so kind to pretend that you knew me, too!  I actually don’t know who you are!

Her: Don’t you remember me?  We met at lunch yesterday.

Me: No, you mean the media conference.  It was the day before yesterday!

Her smile started to fade.

Her: We sat next to each other at the catered lunch yesterday?  I’m from the humor site?

And then I realized, the woman I was talking to was, in fact, the person I’d sat next to at lunch the day before and NOT the woman I had pretended to know from two days prior.

Me: Oh my gosh!  YES!  I’m so sorry, I’m at the point where everything is starting to blend together.  Ha ha ha.

I waved my drink inbetween us, hoping that she’d think I was a little tipsy and attribute my mess-up to too much alcohol.  Never mind that my drink didn’t have an ounce of alcohol in it.

Her: Hmmm.  Yeah.  Have a good one.

I slinked away, straight to the sides of my friends, who all died laughing when I told them what had happened.

I just have to say, that my friend and these two women are all the same height and build, and have the same hair, so it was only half my fault for mixing them all up.

 

Hummus Shirt

On my way to the sponsor suites with the above mentioned Michelle from Muffin Tin Mom, we passed by a snack table.  Of course we had to stop and fill up our plates with pita chips and dips.

As we were walking, Michelle got a glimpse of my back and started freaking out.

Michelle: Laural!  NOOO!  OH NO!

Me: Oh my God, Michelle, what’s WRONG?

I had no idea what she was referring to, except that it had to do with my backside, and it must be BAD.

Me: DID MY PANTS RIP?  Michelle, OH MY GOD YOU HAVE TO TELL ME, did my pants rip?

Michelle: No!  Oh, Laural, it’s WORSE!

I was seriously starting to panic.  If it wasn’t a rip in the booty, it was probably a cockroach crawling on me!  Or a snake!

Me: WHAT IS IT?

Michelle: You have hummus smeared all over the back of your shirt!

Not a rip and not a creepy crawly, thank goodness, but hummus isn’t the prettiest thing to have smeared all over you.  And it doesn’t have the most pleasant smell, either.  And I wasn’t going to be able to go back to my room to change for at least a few more hours.

Just as we were stepping into a bathroom so Michelle could try to get the worst of it off with paper towels, Jessica Bern walked by.  Now here was a person who’d appreciate an embarrassing predicament!

Me: Jessica!  I have hummus smeared all over the back of my shirt!

Jessica: What?

Me: Look!  There’s hummus all over the back of my shirt!  And I have no idea how it got there!  Isn’t that CRAZY?

Jessica: What are you talking about?  I don’t see anything at all.

And she kept on walking.  My attempt to connect over adversity had totally backfired.

When I finally stood in front of the mirror with Michelle at my back, I noticed I had guacamole down the front of my shirt as well.

 

There were so many more funny moments, like when Maegan from Beyond the Bandaids had a leafy green wrapped around her entire tooth, making it look like there was a gaping hole right in the front of her mouth, and all I could do was laugh and point as she asked, “What?  What?” and showed us that tooth over and over again.  I can’t list them all or you’d never get to the end.

Suffice to say, BlogHer ’11 was a huge success, laughter wise.  And I wouldn’t change a thing (as long as Elevator Guy doesn’t figure out who I am).

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