While You Were Out...

You may remember me talking a few years back about a reality show I was going to create. It was the one where husbands got "kidnapped" for a few months and "while they were out", things got "fixed." For example, five-car garages got torn down and beautiful backyards were created in their place or old moldy showers from the 6os were replaced with soaking tubs.

You know. Those kinds of projects.

Today we went to Camano Island where my parents have a house and Clay and I thought of another potential hit reality show. This one is called, "While You Were Out Some Things Got Broken and Smashed and Hauled Away to the Dump."

It's where you hire someone to come into family members' homes and make things disappear that should have disappeared long ago.

I know. It's a tough concept. I'll give you some hypothetical examples to help you visualize.

The following is a vase in the shape of a lady's head. It's never had a plant in it and someone colored her eyes with a ball point pen. Smash!




This is a sea bird wind thingy that, of course, is stored in the guest bathtub. Poof!



This is a ceramic duck. It's squatting on a kitchen shelf amongst the spices and cookbooks. If you flip it over you'll see an address and phone number boldly written with a Mr. Sharpy, which is smart because should it ever go missing, the owner would be able to head to the local precinct and positively ID it. Ka-Pow!



And these are some fabulous fake flowers and ferns from the 80's. They still consider Cindy Lauper a role model. Whack!



How 'bout it? Anyone know someone in Hollywood who can make this show happen?

George's Room is OUR Canvas

Take Two.

George and I are hanging out in the kitchen. He's telling me about his day and I'm making cookies.

Upstairs we hear the lovely sounds of Goldie and Milo playing nicely.

Every few minutes there is a giggle and my heart is happy.

Clay enters the kitchen and asks if I've checked on Milo and Goldie lately.

"No", I reply. "They seem happy. I can hear them upstairs."

Clay, whose motto is trust but verify, goes upstairs and I hear his booming manly voice that he saves for special situations say, "This is NOT okay!"

George and I look at each other and rush upstairs to see what's happening.

Not again...

This time they've emptied my toiletries, the dirty laundry, the clean laundry and almost every drawer in the house onto the floor of George's room.



It's official. I am the worst mom ever.