Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Nekked Bunny Hop

A note to my sons:  This post contains some suggested nudity that you will not be able to "unsee."  However, just remember what little Bryce said all those years ago.  "Well, duh, Reed.  Jonathan's adopted!  They've [Mom and Dad] have only mated twice."  Think on that and clear your minds of any haunting images of Nekked Hoppin' because it has never happened.  Ever.

The tradition of the Nekked Bunny Hop began in the year 1980.  It actually followed another tradition Alan likes to call the Nekked Christmas Tree Dance.  As we carefully placed our small collection of newlywed Christmas ornaments on our newlywed Christmas tree, he asked me when I was going to do the Nekked Christmas Tree Dance.  We had been married about 2 weeks at the time.  His suggestion was met with my first marital eye roll and "yeah, right."

A few months later the breezes warmed signaling the coming of Spring and the Easter season.  "Since I missed your Nekked Christmas Tree Dance, why don't you go ahead and do your Nekked Bunny Hop?" Alan grinned.  Again, his request was met with eye rolls.  Yes.  I was a married woman.  But, I was not THAT kind of girl.  Seriously, Al.  What were you thinking?

Thirty three years later like clockwork, the brightness of Spring and greening of the trees beckoned Alan to call for the Nekked Bunny Hop.  Over time, my negative responses have evolved.  "Oh, I only do that when Easter falls on a Thursday."  "I did it yesterday.  I guess you missed it."  "You go first."  He has never taken me up on the whole "go first" proposition.

A couple of nights ago - on a "school night" - I padded into our bedroom at about 10PM and glanced at early-to-rise Al who was being lulled to sleep by some stupid something on the Cartoon Channel.  That's what happens every night.  At about 9:00, he gets up from his chair in the living room, yawns, stretches and calls it a day.  Off he goes to our soft bed and the comfort of stupid cartoons while I secretly catch up on some of my recorded Real

As I gazed at my drowsy precious man, I decided to try a litte experiment.  I padded into our bathroom and ever-so-quietly closed the French doors.  After changing into my decrepit pink PJ bottoms and tired pink "I [heart] NYC" t-shirt, I began to softly sing the Bunny Hop melody..."La ta da ta dadda da da da..."  Gaining momentum, I sang louder and in a more sultry voice.  [I must confess.  I first typed s-l-u-t-r-y.  Thank you, spell check.]  Soon, I was belting it out.  "Uhhhhh...put your right foot forward!  Puh-da-da!  Put your left foot out!  Do the Bunny Hop!  Yeah!  HOP!  HOP!  HOP!"

Just as I had hypothesized, the French doors opened slowly, carefully, quietly and Alan's little head peeked into the bathroom.  From the clutches of slumber to the curiosity of a newlywed, he had bounded out of bed.

"Oops!!  You just missed it!  Maybe next year!  Sorry 'bout that!" I teased.  

"Yeah, right," he replied rolling his eyes as he headed back to his warm sleepy cocoon.

I was pretty pleased with myself.  Yep.  Pretty pleased.  But, I wonder.  If I had been doing the Nekked Bunny Hop, would I have forever ruined Alan's dream of the dance? Like Jerry Seinfeld says.  There are just some things you do NOT want to see a naked person doing  - like coughing.  Or mopping.  Or Nekked Bunny Hopping.  Flop!  Flop!  Flop! 

Saturday, March 16, 2013

The Confused Leading the Confused-er

Thursday morning dawned bright and crisp and as I stretched out my sleepy limbs, I felt a tingle of excitement.  It was Cut 'n' Color Day!!!  I sprang out of bed almost singing.  Cut 'n' Color Day meant that I didn't have to wash or style my hair before going out in the world - a perk of the 9AM appointment.  I got all cozy in my special chair in my bedroom and took my sweet time applying makeup while watching some old movie.  The process was even more exciting because I have been experimenting with a bit of green eye shadow and I'm working on the how-much-is-not-too-much part.  Unhurried makeup application coupled with  a Turner Classic Movie creates a lazy enjoyable simple pleasure.  A perfect start to my day.

Makeup perfected.  Appropriately inconspicuous green eye shadow applied.  Cute clothes on.  I grabbed my Kindle and hopped into the car eager for my appointment with Scot (with one T) at the Bijou.  The Bijou is an sort of artsy salon that employs both male and female stylists - all of which/whom (you choose) are clad in boho cool attire.  You won't see a lot of unnecessary bling or caked on makeup at this salon.  No, sir.  It's a warm uptown cocoon with softs strains of Sirius Coffee House and polite offers of a soft drink or coffee as you settle into a peaceful respite of interesting, quite conversation and Kindle reading.

An hour and a half later feeling sassy with my soft, shiny hair lilting in the breezes of Spring, I had an hour to kill before my next activity which I will explain in due time.  I decided to gift myself some browsing at Tuesday Morning, but on the way another store caught my eye.  I had never ventured into the DAV Thrift store downtown because on the surface it looks like a hot mess of junk.  "Why not!" I asked myself feeling winsome and a tad bit adventurous.  The hour passed quickly as I combed through old office supplies, books, vintage post cards and record albums.  I ended up with quite a little pile of treasures that inspired me to revisit my hobby of creating mail art.

Sassy hair!  Little treasures!!  Next stop - The Annual Mother-Daughter Mammogram followed by lunch at Cracker Barrel - home of the all day breakfast-palloza.  Meems was sitting in the waiting area tightly clutching her backpack-purse on her lap when I arrived.  She was sporting her perennial French beret - the choice of the day was a pretty teal that brings out the blue in her eyes.  She was ready and waiting because the little transportation bus from Raider Ranch generally delivers her to appointments about 30 minutes before a normal person could even consider himself early.  Over the next 45 minutes, we were both mammogrammed and had worked up a fine appetite for the celebratory "Yowza! 365 Days Until We Have To Do THAT Again!" Luncheon.

I can order Meems' lunch at Cracker Barrel without even opening the menu.  "She'll have the Oldtimer - eggs over easy, toast instead of biscuits, extra little things of jelly, bacon, hash browns - not the casserole hash browns just the regular ones - coffee, and water." Oh, my, Miss Meems loves her some Oldtimer Breakfast platters at 1:00 in the afternoon.  It takes her about an hour, but she cleans her plate down to the last drop of runny egg yolk.

After all of the mammogramming and breakfasting, Meems was ready for her afternoon "resting of the eyes."  "I'm not asleep.  I'm resting my eyes."  [She had already rested them a bit in the waiting room of Lubbock Radiology that morning.]  I buckled her in, and off we went to Raider Ranch.

At last, I come to the Confused Leading the Confused-er chapter of this tale.  One big perk of Mom's apartment at Raider Ranch is that being on the ground floor makes for easy pickup and drop off at her little porch gate.  I helped her out of the car and up on the sidewalk, then I strode ahead to her porch door to unlock it.  I unlocked the deadbolt as usual.  The door did not open.  Hmmm.  Maybe she locked the door knob lock.  Yep.  It was locked.  I unlocked it, and still no open door.  Then, a startling realization opened my eyes wide.  When I pick Mom up from her apartment porch, we only lock the deadbolt.  There is a second deadbolt that unlocks only from the INSIDE.

Me:  "Uh....That's weird.  Someone has locked the inside deadbolt.  That means that someone has been in your apartment.  Hmm."

Meems [ever so softly]:  "I don't know who it could have been because I'm the only one who has a key - not even the maids or maintenance people have keys."

Me [taking charge]:  "Well, someone has been in there!  Why they locked the inside deadbolt makes the situation even more mysterious!"

Leaving Meems on the porch I walked around to the side door and let myself in using her electronic key fob thingy.  In the hall, I saw the housekeepers just outside her door ready to knock.

Me [posing a trick question]:  "Did you guys just clean Helen's apartment?"

They:  "No.  We can't get in because we don't have a key."

Me [feeling like they had just passed my interrogation}:  "Oooh, I see."

I opened the door and strode across the living room to open the inside lock so that Meems could enter her sanctuary.  I quickly did an visual assessment of her belongings.  TVs?  Check!  iPod that she can't remember how to use?  Check!  Extra purses piled on the chair?  Check!

Me:  "Well, it looks like nothing has been tampered with, but I'm going to get to the bottom of this because this flat out gives me the creeps."

Meems  [ever so softly]:  "OK."

After hugs and kisses, I drove from her apartment door around to the front entrance to the building.  I was going to storm the gates, find the executive director, and solve this mysterious non-crime.

Marching from my car across the parking lot, I glanced up at the front door and stopped dead in my tracks.  Well, duh.  It came to me in a flash of exposed ignorance.  I hadn't picked Meems up for the Mother-Daughter Mammogram.  Nope.  She had toddled down the hall to the front door of the complex and hopped on the previously scheduled Raider Ranch transportation bus.  The back door hadn't been unlocked at all that morning.

I had to laugh at myself.  Then, I had to call Meems to confess my confusion.

Meems [ever so softly]:  "So, how did my deadbolt get locked?"

Me [getting tickled]:  "It was never unlocked.  Remember walking down to the lobby and waiting for the Raider Ranch bus."

Meems [ever so softly]:  "Oh, yeah." [pause]  "So, no one's been in my apartment?"

Me:  "No.  Not a soul."

Meems [ever so softly]:  "Are you sure?"

I had to quickly end the conversation before her confusion did a number on me and I ended up pounding my fist on the executive director's door screaming "I WILL FIND THE PERPETRATOR!"

I drove out of the Raider Ranch compound shaking my head.  I had gone and confused the confused-er.  My bad.  At least I did it with shiny, sassy hair and a small sack of thrift store treasures.


Meems had a very special visitor this weekend.  Our friend, Laura Ard, flew down from DC to spend time with her.  Laura lived next door t...