Reflection

We're baaa-aaaack!  Australia was truly a once-in-a-lifetime kind of vacation.  For numerous reasons we won't ever duplicate it.  First, my girls will never again be 3 and turning-7.  Second, we'll never again make a journey like that to pick up our family pet.  After all, we've got him!  Third, while absolutely wonderful and fun and enjoyable...it was painfully expensive.  We'd have to sell one of the kids on Ebay to make it possible.  Nonetheless, it was something we'll all remember forever.  And maybe 16 years from now, my girls will return to the same place and have their own flashbacks.  A thousand years ago, when I was young and adventurous I spent some time one summer on the Gold Coast...under the guise of an internship...but really exploring and playing and having an amazing summer with my College Roommate.  It was wild and wonderful to be back there, and honestly more fun now that I wasn't flirting my way into free beers (although that might have been a good idea in light of the fact that they cost AU$11 each at our hotel) and bungee jumping.  Seeing a place though your childrens' eyes is absolutely magical.

 Drama meets a dolphin at Sea World

 Drama and a Kangaroo

 Trouble and a Kangaroo

 The girls and Baby the Koala

looking at the waves, Broadbeach

Which brings me to the next subject of my little reflection.  Last week, while hopping beach playgrounds and snapping 500+ photos of the girls with various Down Under wildlife phenoms, my lovely daughter Miss Drama celebrated the passage into her eighth year on this planet.  I honestly cannot remember what I did before I had kids.  I can remember snippets and stories and laugh at stupid things I did or said...but I sort of feel like I'm recollecting an old episode of Friends.  Like that couldn't possibly have been ME in that life. That said, there was a brief and tortorous time when I was sure I would never be a mother.  Those were dark days, and though I am so glad to have gone through them to have gained the perspective and gratitude that can only come through not getting what you want the nanosecond that you want it...reflecting on Drama's Birth Day always brings me back, momentarily, to that empty place in my soul that is now full to overflowing with the existence of my children.  (Holy Run-On Sentence Batman...fix THAT one, my English Word Nerd Friends!!)  It would be wrong to simply brush over the happy day when seven years of couplehood became a Whole New Thing.  My friend wrote a blog post recently about Game Changers.  Moments in your life that literally change everything.  For all parents, the arrival of their firstborn is a Game Changer.  But for me, particularly, the day that I held that glorious little pink bundle in my arms I became what I was actually meant to be in this life.  Years later, I had an epiphany that my Job as Her Mother was the only job in the world that I was singularly and indisputably The Most Qualified Person in the World to Do.  And Boy Howdy....how she has changed me.

The night before her birthday, we took the girls out to dinner at a lovely marina-side Italian Restaurant.  They proceeded to behave exactly as one would dream their children would at a nice restaurant for a holiday meal.  They used their polite words, they participated in family conversation, ordered for themselves, ate using thier Princess Etiquette (PaPere would have been proud), and Circus Dad and I proceeded to consume two bottles of wine.  Don't Judge.  We walked back to the hotel and all fell asleep before 9pm.  It was Party Hardy Old Folks Style.  I Digress.  During this absolutely lovely meal, Drama asked me to tell her a story about when I was young.  (Over the course of the vacation, I was telling the girls numerous stories about the last time I had been in Surfer's Paradise and showing them where I did various things).  Instead of regaling her with stories of my Australian summers....I told her about the day she joined our family.  And I thanked her for choosing me to be her mommy because she makes me a better person.  And she grinned (that rather frightening snaggle-tooth and missing teeth grin of a newly-minted 7-year-old) and said, "You're Welcome.  I think I knew you Needed Me."

Layering on the Reflection Topic, but in the same vein, last night we welcomed the first, last, and only Baby Boy into the Circus/Broccoli fold.  He's a canine baby boy...but we welcomed him just the same way we welcomed the human children in our house.  We threw a bunch of money at toys, cushiony things that we hope will make him Sleep Through The Night, and we ooohed and ahhhed at his cuteness.  This morning, he had the audacity to wake me before even Trouble had risen.  Just like the other two babies in our house...the first night you can't wait to see their adorable little cutness and I bound out of bed to carry him down the stairs (he doesn't know how to climb down, yet) and out into the pouring rain to try to coax him into making a wee wee outside.  Easier Said than done.  The point of this little tale, you ask?  Having a new baby in the house this week makes me remember the tiny baby we had in our house 7 years ago, and almost 4 years ago....and it makes me smile.  I was on Skype with my In-Laws this morning, introducing them to our (surprisingly mellow) little dude and they asked me if it was like having a new baby again.  It kind of is.  I mean, you really can't wait to see their cute little faces.  You're not completely psyched about the housebreaking/pottytraining aspect (and let me just say that if it takes the puppy even 1/10th as long as it look my children to get the hang of it, I'm sending him back).  You hope they will sleep through the night, but kind of relish those fleeting middle of the night cuddles.  All things considered, and in all honesty...the first night with Aussie was 1000 times easier than the first night at home with either of my girls.  I told MIL that if my kids had been that easygoing and laid-back, I'd have 10 children.  I also think I'm way mellower with him than I was with our first puppy or with either of the girls when I first brought them home.  I'll go ahead and chalk that up to lack of pregnancy hormones ...because we all know that I don't get as much sleep as I need...so it's not being well-rested.

 It's a Hard Life for Aussie at our house

Walking to the Bus Stop...Poor Aussie wasn't so keen on the leash 

Trouble's turn.  Aussie was getting the hang of it on the walk home!

So, here we are.  A little family of five.  Circus Dad is no longer completely outnumbered, as there is now another masculine life-form living in our home.  My kids totally impressed me with their politesse and their, well, Selves on our holiday.  So Life is Good.  I'll get back to you after I've passed through the 24 hour puppy honeymoon and after  he's had a few accidents on the carpet.  But for the moment...it's a very peaceful reflection and I am One Happy Mama.

We're Off to See the Wizard

Tonight, Circus Dad and I are taking the kids to Australia.  It's kind of a once-in-a-lifetime type of adventure for most people...and I not completely sure the kids get how exciting it is to get to GO to Australia.  I'm also note completely sure that Trouble will even remember this trip when she gets older.

Nonetheless, the adventure is about to begin.

I have literally spent hours poring over internet travel websites and tourist advisors trying to come up with the best possible itinerary.  I need to balance the following factors:  The Husband's need for an actual holiday, complete with relaxation, waves lapping at his feet, cold beers and access to spa services; The Kids' need for entertainment, meaning actual planned activities or access to kid-oriented attractions; Proximity to the breeder, so we can meet and play with the puppy that we will be bringing home with us at the end of our holiday; Access to good restaurants, where kids are welcome...but not necessarily the target audience.  So.  Our itinerary follows:

Day One: Arrival in Brisbane, securing rental car (which might be an adventure...as I hired from a company called Andy's Autos...I fear it might be like Rocky's Autos in Colorado, and I know The Husband is just cringing at my frugality on this one), taking the "scenic" drive South along the Gold Coast to Broadbeach, checking into the hotel and relaxing for the remainder of the day at one of the pools at the resort.  Seeing how we are taking the red-eye...we are counting on the kids (and us!) sleeping on the flight, but accounting for the 3 hour time difference, we figure this might be a burger-by-the-pool kind of night.  We'll play it by ear.

Day Two: Sea World!!  It's walking distance from the hotel...tickets purchased in advance (thanks for the tip, Trip Advisor, I'd have been peeved waiting in a long line full of Aussie Autumn/Easter break revelers), and we plan on hitting every single attraction.  I just hope none of the whales, sharks, dolphins or penguins eat any other animal, spectator, or trainer.  Dinner at the Mirage.

Day Three: Beach!!  I've found a "beach walk/playground crawl" itinerary on a Australia tourism website that reccomends spots to sit and relax/play in the water/eat/drink and 7 playgrounds along the way.  I'm trying to mix dad's need to have his toes in the sand and a cold beer in his hand with the kids desire to be completely and utterly entertained.  I'm hoping this works.  And I get to read trash mags all day.  Oh yeah!  Dinner at a lively Mexican restaurant...I'll report back.  I don't have high hopes for Mexican in Australia...but it HAS to be better than the Mexican in Switzerland.

Day Four: Carrumbin Wildlife Sanctuary.  This is the day when my kids will meet live Kangaroos (just hopping around!  Feed them by hand!  No lie...I have a scar on the middle finger of my right hand from an overzealous Kangaroo who wasn't willing to wait for the handful of Kanga-treats I had back in 1994), hold a Koala (maybe...those little dudes look vicious), run from an Emu, and witness other strange Down Under wildlife like the Platypus and the Wallaby.  I'm hopeful that this will keep them more entertained than a typical zoo.  I'm excited...but if this is anything like our Thailand attempt to meet live elephants....I'm going to be the only memeber of the family that wants to participate.  So...I'm cautiously excited).

Day Five: Easter Brunch at Conrad Jupiter's.  This is my attempt to acknowledge Easter...which both girls seem keen on...feed The Husband and throw back a bunch of champagne)  This will be followed by a trip to the Dog Showgrounds just North of Brisbane where the breeder will be showing and we will get to meet for the first time our new little man, Aussie.  I've allowed the entire afternoon for this activity.  I suspect the kids will be devastated when we have to leave him again!!

Day Six: Drama's Actual 7th Birthday.  As such, she will get to choose what we do.  There are 3 other amusement parks in the area, a number of beaches, a water park and the beach.  The world is literally this little girl's oyster for a day.  Dinner will probably be something horrifying like McDonalds.

Day Seven: Beach/Check out and then commute to the airport for departure.

So, there you have it.  Hopefully a nice mix of full-on excitment with laid-back relaxation.  We'll pepper that with cocktails, kangaroo kibble and some photo ops, and I'm hoping it makes for a really nice holiday.  If not, I'm putting the kids on Ebay.  Ungrateful little turds.

Takeaways and A Prayer

Okay.  Quickly...the party was great, the takeaways are: 

• Little Girls love Glitter
• A Painting Class is a Great way to get a gage of your kid's personality
• Cake Pops are delicious (and the base, while smart, wasn't actually all that fabulous...photographic evidence below)

• No matter how hard you work on something, hearing "This was The Best Day EVER" out of the mouth of your child makes Every.  Little.  Thing.  Worth it.
• I love those girls, because of and despite the Drama and the Trouble.  Sigh.

Now that I've had a little sentimental moment, I offer some comic relief.  It's not mine...though I wish I were this funny.  It's an excerpt from Tina Fey's new book: Bossypants.  Enjoy:

A Prayer for My Daughter

First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her

When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.

What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short - a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day - And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.

“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Amen.

Cake Pops

I'm Running on Empty, as Jackson Browne would say.

I have managed to pack my days so full lately that I've left no time for the little moments....like a quiet bathroom break, or, say, taking my peeling, chipped, Britney Spears-esque week-old nail polish off.  C'est la vie.

Today I spent an hour on the floor of my office gluing construction paper to a giant sheet of Styrofoam and then plotting out a grid on which to display the Cake Pops that I ordered for Drama's birthday party.  Why, you might ask, did I not just make a cake...or like any good Tai Tai (read: Chinese Housewife) buy one and have it delivered?  Well, it was partly the fact that I'm still stinging from the cake debacle of 2010.  Wherein I ordered a fabulous ice-skate made of cupcakes 3 weeks in advance only to find out 4 days before the party that the Bakery "no longer did cakes".  I did find an amazing last-minute bakery.  Drama's cake was STUNNING and absolutely delicious.  It also cost as much as a car payment.  So, this year I priced cakes, I debated making one and then I found the most adorable new product available from the Worlds Most Expensive Bakery (which actually has a page called Xtravagant Cakes...so you can have an exact copy of an Hermes Birkin Bag made out of cake and fondant for your 4 year old daughter's birthday...for about the price of a real Birkin Bag...only don't take my word for it.  You have to fill out a special request and give a blood sample before they will quote you a price on an Xtravagant Cake).  This darling little confection is along the cupcake line: bite-sized and cute.  It's called a Cake Pop.  Little round delicious globules of cake, dipped in frosting and sprinkled.  So cute!!  And about 25% of the price of a Low-Brow, Nothing Fancy Cake from the World's Most Expensive Bakery.  Yay! Sign me up.  Only, how do you put candles in a lollipop?  More importantly, how do you display them?  Enter a large sheet of Styrofoam and my creative "genius".   Let me just say that the pops better be delicious, and the kids better love them.

I still feel that my time is highly valuable.  My billing rate should be somewhere around US$300 per hour by my calculations.  Nevermind the fact that I have not worked in any actual financially-contributory fashion since 2005, where my billing rate was probably about 10% of that figure.  If.  So, by my calculations, this is going to be the world's most expensive Cake Pop Base.  I just have to finish outlining the giant number 7 with silver glittery pen first.  Because when little girls are the target audience, just add more bling.  Seriously.

Which brings me to the next point:  Birthday Gifts for overpriviledged children.  Obviously, one has to give a child a gift for their birthday.  And my children, while overpriviledged (relatively, of course), are actually really Good Kids.  They pick up their toys (mostly...or to be more accurate Drama picks up the toys while Trouble finds ways to get the rest of us to do it for her), they are grateful and polite and actually seem to know that they have more than they actually "need".  So, when I asked Drama what she wanted for her birthday she quickly replied, "an iPad".  Yeah.  Me, too, kiddo.  Not. Gonna. Happen.  "An iTouch?" I didn't even reply, I just raised one eyebrow and she looked sheepish.  "Rollerskates."  I had to think about this one.  Do kids actually still rollerskate?  I spent every Friday night in 5th and 6th grade at Skate City.  "You mean rollerblades?"  I asked her.  "No, the REALLY old kind, from the olden days, mama".  Ah.  Yes, that kind.  D'oh.  So, the child will inevitably get a pair of "old fashioned" rollerskates for her birthday.  Her sister will pick some silly sparkly bauble for her from the Stanley Market, and she'll have to make room somehow for the barrage of gifts that will arrive from the Grandparents that miss our kids and send them giant packages for their birthdays.  I'm thinking of instituting a "New Item In, Old Item to Charity" policy.  It's tough with Drama, though, because Trouble is just now growing into a lot of the toys that Drama doesn't use anymore.  But, seriously.  Does any household need a sofa-sized ottoman full of Barbies?  Because we have one.  And the lid doesn't close all the way.  And they are always naked.  Which isn't pertinent but I find it puzzling.

So, my overscheduled, chipped-polish, high from sparkly-fumed-marker self is going to go upstairs to finish trimming the Cake Base.  Check back after Saturday for photographic evidence of my genius.  Or to smile at 14 adorable first grade girls, and one grinning Trouble.

The 18 Days of Blogging Hiatus

Not one to make excuses (because I subscribe to the theory that Excuses are like steamy turds...everybody can make one), I generally believe that one has to admit when they screw up, apologize when one is warranted, and move on.  That said, I feel that I must submit the following by way of excuse, in poem form.  Please forgive my horrific rhythmic sensibility.  Oh, and you have to discount all qualifying statements in parentheses.  They do not rhyme.  Ever.

The 18 Days of Blogging Hiatus

On the First Day of Blogging Hiatus my Bad Karma gave to me a bad case of T.B. (or some other equally rare, nearly extinguished wasting disease marked primarily by a hacking cough and an inability to breathe deeply...lasting seemingly for all eternity)

On the Second Day of Blogging Hiatus my Bad Karma gave to me two girls on spring break, and a bad case of T.B.

On the Third Day of Blogging Hiatus my Bad Karma gave to me Three Visitors who wanted to sight-see (I actually enjoy this part...as I love visitors, but it throws me off my game), Two girls on spring break and a bad case of T.B.

On the Fourth Day of Blogging Hiatus my Bad Karma gave mto me Four Trips to Stanley (market, that is...for souvenirs, gifts and general tourist-ing), Three visitors, Two girls on spring break, and a bad case of T.B.

On the Fifth Day of Blogging Hiatus my Bad Karma gave to me Five Hours in the Stylist's Chair (for Miss Breck Hair, which almost makes it worth it...but seriously...that's most of an entire DAY), Four Trips to Stanley, Three Visitors, Two girls on Spring Break, and a bad case of T.B.

On the Sixth Day of Blogging Hiatus my Bad Karma gave to me Six Daisy Scouts (to prepare for a Flag ceremony...none of whom are familiar with the Pledge of Allegiance.  Don't raise your eyebrows.  None of them have gone to school in the USA, and some aren't even American), Five Hours in the Stylist's Chair, Four Trips to Stanley, Three Visitors, Two girls on Spring Break, and a bad case of T.B.

On the Seventh Day of Blogging Hiatus my Bad Karma gave to me Seven Days of Delay (on the closing of our new house), Six Daisy Scouts, Five Hours in the Stylist's Chair, Four Trips to Stanley, Three Visitors, Two girls on Spring Break and a bad case of T.B.

On the Eighth Day of Blogging Hiatus my Bad Karma gave to me Eight Boot Camp Workouts, Seven Days of Delay, Six Daisy Scouts, Five Hours in the Stylist's Chair, Four Trips to Stanely, Three Visitors, Two girls on Spring Break and a bad case of T.B.

On the Ninth Day of Blogging Hiatus my Bad Karma gave to me Nine late-night wakings (by Trouble...in case anybody has been sleeping through my last dozen posts), Eight Boot Camp Workouts, Seven Days of Delay, Six Daisy Scouts, Five Hours in the Stylist's Chair, Four Trips to Stanely, Three Visitors, Two girls on Spring Break, and a bad case of T.B.

On the Tenth Day of Blogging Hiatus my Bad Karma gave to me Ten Piles of Bills (to be paid, filed and or dealt with), Nine late-night wakings, Eight Boot Camp Workouts, Seven Days of Delay, Six Daisy Scouts, Five Hours in the Stylist's Chair, Four Trips to Stanley, Three Visitors, Two Girls on Spring Break, and a bad case of T.B.

On the Eleventh Day of Blogging Hiatus my Bad Karma gave to me Eleven Playdates (to be managed, taxi-ed organized and or led), Ten Piles of Bills, Nine late night wakings, Eight Boot Camp Workouts, Seven Days of Delay, Six Daisy Scouts, Five Hours in the Stylist's Chair, Four Trips to Stanely, Three Visitors, Two girls on Spring Break, and a bad case of T.B.

On the Twelfth Day of Blogging Hiatus my Bad Karma gave to me Twelve Birthday Party Projects (invitations: addressing, mailing; decorations: designing, painting, purchasing; favor bags: envisioning, procuring, assembling; food: ordering, picking up, arranging delivery;  activity: paying for somebody else to do it), Eleven Playdates, Ten Piles of Bills, Nine late night wakings, Eight Boot Camp Workouts, Seven Days of Delay, Six Daisy Scouts, Five Hours in the Stylist's Chair, Four Trips to Stanely, Three Visitors, Two girls on Spring Break, and a bad case of T.B.

On the Thirteenth Day of Blogging Hiatus my Bad Karma gave to me Thirteen Home Improvement Projects (not complaining...having a new home is AWESOME, but it's a lot to try to stay on top of from a distance...MTD you are a lifesaver and we can never repay you for your help), Twelve Birthday Party Projects, Eleven Playdates, Ten Piles of Bills, Nine late night wakings, Eight Boot Camp Workouts, Seven Days of Delay, Six Daisy Scouts, Five Hours in the Stylist's Chair, Four Trips to Stanely, Three Visitors, Two girls on Spring Break, and a bad case of T.B.

On the Fourteenth Day of Blogging Hiatus my Bad Karma gave to me Fourteen Choices of Itinerary (of things to do on our Australia Vacation...again, not a complaint...but it has to be worked out!!!), Thirteen Home Improvement Projects, Twelve Birthday Party Projects, Eleven Playdates, Ten Piles of Bills, Nine late night wakings, Eight Boot Camp Workouts, Seven Days of Delay, Six Daisy Scouts, Five Hours in the Stylist's Chair, Four Trips to Stanely, Three Visitors, Two girls on Spring Break, and a bad case of T.B.

On the Fifteenth Day of Blogging Hiatus my Bad Karma gave to me Fifteen First Grade Girls (coming to Drama's Birthday Party this Saturday), Fourteen Choices of Itinerary, Thirteen Home Improvement Projects, Twelve Birthday Party Projects, Eleven Playdates, Ten Piles of Bills, Nine late night wakings, Eight Boot Camp Workouts, Seven Days of Delay, Six Daisy Scouts, Five Hours in the Stylist's Chair, Four Trips to Stanely, Three Visitors, Two girls on Spring Break, and a bad case of T.B.

On the Sixteenth Day of Blogging Hiatus my Bad Karma gave to me Sixteen Government Forms (to be filled out for the export/import/adoption of our new puppy), Fifteen First Grade Girls, Fourteen Choices of Itinerary, Thirteen Home Improvement Projects, Twelve Birthday Party Projects, Eleven Playdates, Ten Piles of Bills, Nine late night wakings, Eight Boot Camp Workouts, Seven Days of Delay, Six Daisy Scouts, Five Hours in the Stylist's Chair, Four Trips to Stanely, Three Visitors, Two girls on Spring Break, and a bad case of T.B.

On the Seventeenth Day of Blogging Hiatus my Bad Karma gave to me Seventeen Numbers (to dial internationally...for managing house closing issues, home improvement projects, travel itinerary questions, dog export issues and all other international calls that have to be made...frankly it's just annoying. Everybody should be on Skype.  Oh.  And Skype should function better), Sixteen Government Forms, Fifteen First Grade Girls, Fourteen Choices of Itinerary, Thirteen Home Improvement Projects, Twelve Birthday Party Projects, Eleven Playdates, Ten Piles of Bills, Nine late night wakings, Eight Boot Camp Workouts, Seven Days of Delay, Six Daisy Scouts, Five Hours in the Stylist's Chair, Four Trips to Stanely, Three Visitors, Two girls on Spring Break, and a bad case of T.B.

On the Eighteenth Day of Blogging Hiatus my Bad Karma gave to me Eighteen different kinds of insecurity (I'm not that funny...I shouldn't be writing at all...it's not like anybody is reading it anyway...I write like I talk...Blogger is annoying...blogging is kind of self-important...am I talking to myself...I'm totally scatterbrained...The Husband hates this...Maybe I should just bail...I'm not a trained writer...I make painful grammatical and spelling errors...are people laughing at me...do people just say they think it's funny...are they laughing AT me or WITH me...what's the difference, it's just semantics...this is a little bit embarrassing....Sweet Baby Jesus, I am talking to myself), Seventeen Numbers to Dial, Sixteen Government Forms, Fifteen First Grade Girls, Fourteen Choices of Itinerary, Thirteen Home Improvement Projects, Twelve Birthday Party Projects, Eleven Playdates, Ten Piles of Bills, Nine late night wakings, Eight Boot Camp Workouts, Seven Days of Delay, Six Daisy Scouts, Five Hours in the Stylist's Chair, Four Trips to Stanely, Three Visitors, Two girls on Spring Break, and a bad case of T.B.