I asked everyone to put everything they need for the vacation on the kitchen table. Evan, obviously, gets a free pass on this one. His idea of getting ready for anything is putting a matchbox car in each fist. Amy put out a pile of stuffed animals, her swimsuit and a pair of jeans. Noah put out three pairs of jeans and two t-shirts. Sarah put out two bikinis, 4 jammies and 15 complete outfits that didn’t match so that she could roll her eyes every time I questioned one of the choices. Tommy put out 8 pairs of underwear, sandals, jeans and three t-shirts. Doug was exempt from this exercise because he would wait until we are loading the car to throw 12 pairs of socks, 6 pairs of underwear, 6 swimsuits, 8 juggling clubs and an assortment of juggling balls in the car, without a suitcase. It’s best for everyone if I do all of the packing. Besides, it makes it easier to have a scapegoat when something gets forgotten.

The game of punch buggy has evolved in our family to require announcing the color of the Volkswagon that you are claiming before you slug someone. Sometimes, we just blurt the color before inflicting the punch. IF you are sitting at a red light and a green VW cruises past you, THEN you should not shout “green” and punch your spouse. Doing so MIGHT result in said spouse lunging into the intersection while the light is still red. Of course, I’m just guessing that this is what could possibly happen. I would never do such a thing to my over-caffeinated husband. Well, I would never do it again.

Far more often than I would like, I wander around the room, staring at the ceiling. Sometimes I do this with a swiffer mop in my hand. I move slowly, my feet sliding instead of walking, while I stare, blankly at the ceiling. My children wander past and ignore me. Occasionally, one of them will mumble “have fun chasing squirrels” as they stomp away with something from the kitchen pantry. Today, I did my zombie squirrel hunt routine, but couldn’t find the source of the noise. Click, clack, ticka-ticka. I was certain that there was some destruction occurring that a few thwacks of the mop on the ceiling would cease. Ticka-ticka, click, clack. I was getting very frustrated, until, I found the source of the noise. Doug was broadcasting his nervous breakdown. Ignore the fact that he is breaking the rule of a happy marriage that only one partner can be crazy at a time. Instead, focus on the fact that he is accelerating my insanity by making noises like a squirrel eating the rafters. I may have to walk downstairs with a toy vw and punch him in the arm. Hard.

Me: “WHAT do you think you are doing?”
Doug: “Nothing. Just playing.”
Me: “No you aren’t. You’re looking for lumps.”
Doug: “Maybe. Is that a problem?’
Me: “Yes. It is very weird and it is not good foreplay.”
Doug: “Oh. Um, want some ice cream?”

What NOT to say during adult time:

Doug: “You know, your hair wouldn’t grow back so fast if you waxed instead of shaving.”
Me: “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to you. I was composing a post in my head.”

Me: “Why would you want to do that to yourself?”
Doug: “To see what it was like.”
Me: “If everyone else jumped off a bridge, would you, oh, never mind.”

Me: “You do know that requires maintenance don’t you?”
Doug: “Yes, but they said there’s less blood the more you do it.”

Me: “Was it pleasurable or painful?”
Doug: “I wish it had been pleasurable. Would have made it less embarrassing.”

He may or may not explain this conversation.

When Doug told me about the new gentleman’s salon in town, I didn’t think twice about it. When I saw that they were having a special event for bloggers, I told him he should go. I saw it as a chance for him to get out of his dungeon and socialize with other bloggers. Don’t women go to salons that have beautiful stylists? I don’t, but well manicured women do. Kids’ Kuts is more my speed. Doug did not go someplace sleazy. He did not objectify women. He did not cheat on me in body or mind. He hung out with people who have similar interests. He got pampered. He acted silly and had fun. Yay for Doug. He deserves it.

And Cathy says unto you, worry not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all neighbors. For a gift to me is given today in the city of Knoxville, in the mountains of Tennessee. And this shall bring joy to all; Ye shall find no Christmas lights hanging from her house, in the month of February. And suddenly there was with the blogger a multitude of the kindred spirits praising Doug, and saying, Glory to Doug of the roof, and in Knoxville peace, good will toward him.

Doug: “Our Foreman grill has just about had it.”
Me: “Well, we did get it two people ago.”