Gold

I was a Girl Scout for longer than I generally care to admit. One of my favorite activities was building a fire and singing around the campfire on our camping trips. One song that most anyone who was ever a Girl Scout will remember goes something like this:

Make new friends,

But keep the old.

One is silver,

And the other gold.

I had the opportunity recently to reconnect with two friends who were members of my Girl Scout troop through to the very end. Not only were we Girl Scouts together, but I would freely describe them as my two best friends from elementary school through high school. For many years, the three of us were inseparable.

They endured my impulsive antics with a tempered patience, half waiting to see what would come next, half hoping that whatever it was would not cause too much trouble. Together, we discussed the boys in our class that we liked (with code names to ensure ultimate secrecy), and employed primitive three-way calling to conduct subterfuge operations when on the phone with aforementioned boys (aka - one person listening in on another line in another room).

I was often overly sensitive and competitive as a kid and would get my feelings hurt over things that most kids my age wouldn't think about twice about. The fact that these two girls managed to stay friends with me for as long as they did says a lot about their character.

Once we entered high school, we began to find separate paths. Differing lunch schedules and dissimilar schedules caused the logistics of our daily communication to wane. They both became involved in band; I began participating on the swim team, in theatre, and on the newspaper staff. As our interests expanded, so did our circle of friends. I remember experiencing a level of jealousy about the new friends who seemed to take up so much of their time; however, I can't claim that I kept my schedule available for them all the time, either.

Ultimately, though, we remained friends. I would still refer to them as my best friends throughout the high school years.

College was different, though. We all went different ways. I became involved in a relationship with a man who didn't have time for my friends; therefore, I didn't have time for them. The emails grew fewer and fewer.

I once imagined that these two women would be in my wedding. By the time I finally got married, I hadn't spoken to either of them in almost ten years, other than the perfunctory conversations at each of the other's weddings.

About a month ago, I got a note card from one of them. She invited the two of us to get together for lunch and even set a date and time. We met and had a nice time catching up with each other.

I have to admit that I was kind of nervous about the meeting. I knew that we'd grown apart and had very separate lives over the past ten years. The person that I am now is very different from the person I was then. I was worried that we wouldn't have enough to talk about.

I know that on one level, our conversation wasn't the same as what it used to be. I can't say that we fell right into talking about old times, as though no time had passed at all. But, at the same time, it was wonderful to see my old friends and catch up on what had been going on in their lives. And, we set another date to get together for lunch again. I hope that we can work to rebuild and rekindle our friendships, because these two women have known me longer than anyone, and I miss having them in my life.

There is something to be said about cherishing old friends... I'm grateful to have a second chance to keep ahold of mine.

Goodbye

Last night, we watched a show on the Discovery channel talking about those seventeen-year cicadas. The cicadas' evolutionary trait of "predatory satiation" allows for most of the cicadas to survive the advances of predators based on sheer numbers; there are always enough survivors to ensure procreation. After seventeen years of development as nymphs underground, the surviving adult cicadas only live several weeks... When they die, their bodies decompose and become a part of the soil, providing nutrients for the plants that will then sustain the nymphs who will live underground until the next seventeen-year cycle is complete.

I couldn't avoid making the connection of this circle of life to our pup, Regis. Right now, Regis is laying on the floor near my feet as I type this. I can hear Dave getting his keys now in order to bring him to the veterinarian. This time, it isn't for the chemotherapy that was helping him battle the lymphoma that he was diagnosed with three months ago; that treatment quit working weeks ago. Today, we will say goodbye to Regis.

We knew yesterday that it was time. Regis' lymph nodes were swollen so badly that it looked like he had golf balls stuck in his mouth and cheeks. He had two accidents, unable to make it overnight or let us know during the day that he had to go outside. His food bowl has remained at the same level over the past four days. Instead of bounding down the stairs, following us, he stood at the top, tentatively trying to make the first step, then backing up, knowing that the effort might be too much.

But, knowing that it is time doesn't make it any easier.

This morning, I had an interview. I tried to keep the entire thing out of my mind in order to stay focused. On the way home from the interview, I was torn between wanting to get home to see Regis and spend time with him or driving around for as long as possible, knowing that when I got home, Dave was going to take him to the vet. I kept thinking... "In three hours, in two hours, in one hour..." I saw the blanket in the back seat of the car, used for Regis when we would go "bye-bye." What do we do with the blanket now? Or his leash? Or the goodies that we never had the chance to give him?

When we first found out that Regis had lymphoma three months ago, we decided to have him cremated... We'll keep his ashes and when we move to our 'forever house,' we'll plant a tree and place his ashes beneath it. It seemed like the best way to tribute our friend. Allowing his ashes to become part of a living thing that would be a reminder in our daily lives of the best dog that anyone could ever wish to have.

And I know that the hurt that we have now is only a tiny payoff for the immense love, fun, and comfort that we've shared with Regis over the past years.

Musical Montage

When I was in seventh grade, the only thing I wanted for Christmas was a CD player/boombox. Sixth grade had been the year of the coveted I.O.U. sweatshirts... Seventh grade, however, I needed a CD player. Everybody else had one and my life would probably end if "Santa" didn't deliver.

Santa did deliver, though. I got my CD player. Santa apparently also spoke to my Aunt Janette, who sent me my very first CD's.

1. Mariah Carey's Unplugged
2. Toad the Wet Sprocket Walk on the Ocean single
3. Gloria Estefan's Greatest Hits

I listened to those three CD's over and over and over, until I saved enough money to buy myself a CD: Blind Melon's CD, featuring No Rain.

God, life was good.

I still can sing all the words to Gloria Estefan's Rythym is Gonna Get You and Aunt J is the only reason I know that Mariah Carey's version of I'll Be There was originally done by the Jackson 5. I heard that Toad the Wet Sprocket song on the radio yesterday, which is what reminded me of the first CD's I ever owned.

Do you think the music that a person owns says a lot about that person? I'm not sure what this says about me...

**********

Happy, happy birthday to my love, Dave... He's the greatest person in my life and I can't wait to spend the rest of our birthdays together! 'Appy Bert-day, dere, ah, Bab... Oh, I mean, uh, Dave!

Karma's a Bitch...

First of all, thank you, everyone, who made the comment on my last blog entry that I could be or was most likely pregnant. I can guarantee you that I am not. The cramps that I am currently enduring are only adding to the general nausea from the sickness. But, thanks for your concern. (*jerks*)

**********

So, Tuesday night, Paula and I were talking about how lucky we were during our adolescent years not to have had bad acne. My sister and brother have both had to take prescription meds to help clear their skin; I would get the occasional red bump that would quickly disappear on its own.

Adolescent acne always seemed to be such a curse to those afflicted by it. I remember this one kid I went to high school with named Brandon who had horrible acne. We're talking stereotypical pepperoni-pizza-faced skin. There was a rumor that went around school that he and his girlfriend (who was called "The Troll" due to her short stature and frizzy, wild hair) were making out she somehow bit his lip or something. There was apparently a mountainous pimple right above his lip and it POPPED... into her mouth!

I don't know if this is true or not, but I always figured that if I heard it in the halls of my high school, it must be true.

So, anyway, Wednesday morning, after Paula and I were gloating about our beautiful, flawless skin, in addition to waking up with a bad case of the swirlies, I looked in the mirror to find probably the biggest, reddest, most swollen and painful pimple I have ever had in my life residing on the right side of my chin.

Like I said... karma's a bitch.*

And that goes for all you bastards who are trying to convince me that my stomach virus is pregnancy. You all better watch out!

*Dave insists that this is not karma so much as just a failure to knock on wood. And as he pointed out, I did not knock on his wood that night.

What "American Idol" Means to Me...

For those of you who have been living in a cave, tonight is the premier of the new American Idol season!

I know, I know... It just isn't quite right for an adult to be so darn excited about a stupid reality television show. But, American Idol has been a part of my life for so long that I can't help but look forward to it.

The first season of Idol, I was in the throes of my karaoke addiction. I was opposed to the entire concept of reality TV and did not watch a single episode of Idol the entire season. However, I will say that my karaoke background gave me the groundwork for an appreciation of the Idol sensation.

Ryan Seacrest is the host that I love to hate. When he started with the whole "Seacrest, out!" thing, it sealed his fate as forever being an official tool.

And then there is dear, drunken Paula Abdul. Have you seen this clip? I'm sorry, but that isn't just "exhaustion." The poor dear is obviously not lucid. I'm not sure if she is intoxicated or messed up on pain pills, but something isn't right.

The best part of American Idol, though, is the social event that it has become. Starting in Bill's garage, every Tuesday night, a group of us get together to watch Randy, Paula, and Simon endure some of the country's worst (and occasionally best) karaoke performances, hoping against all hopes that they will somehow find the next diamond in the rough. Last year, we even had a pool, and each threw in $5 to bet on who we thought would win. (I didn't even have freakin' Taylor Hicks in top ten!) One of these Idol parties was the birthplace of the infamous "Shrek."

But, probably the best part, is that one year ago (technically tomorrow, since it was the 17th of January) I met Dave and the American Idol premier party at Bill's Garage. And although it won't quite be the same this year without the tool bench and power tools, it is an event that changed my life dramatically and I will always remember.

Some couples have a song... Some couples have a place... Dave and I... Well, we have a reality series. Love you soooo much, Dave!

One more down...

I don't know about you, but I am beginning my new year with a little rest and relaxation. The past week has been pretty much total chaos, between moving and other holiday festivities, but today, other than spending a couple of hours unpacking, I'm taking it easy!

As I'm sure everyone else does, the end of the year is kind of a benchmark for me to look back and see how much progress I've made (or lost) for the last 365 days. Here's a Reader's Digest version of my 2006:

RELOCATION: I managed to stay in one apartment for the entire year of 2006! That is definitely evidence of progress, considering that I moved FIVE TIMES in 2005. This is also the first lease that I have ever had (officially in my name) that I have completed the entire term. [+1 point for 2006]

PROFESSION: 2006 was definitely exciting in terms of my career. Some circumstances outside of my control (that may or may not have been instigated by circumstances within my control) caused me to leave on place of employment to find work elsewhere. Although I enjoy working at the new place a lot more than the old, the events that led me there were rather crappy, to say the least. I'd have to say that this category is a wash. [+0 pts.]

VEHICLES: Not only was I accident-free in 2006, I managed to repair the damages leftover from the previous year! Also, my insurance dropped significantly... like, we're talking close to $100 a month. Hey, they don't call me "Crash" for nothin'. Here's to the good driving record continuing in '07. [+1 pt.]

FINANCES: I started the year by having to get a second job to help pay bills. Things got better over the summer while I worked at the pool, but things have tightened up again this fall. Basically, I've spent the year treading water - haven't made any real progress in paying off my bills, but haven't gotten into any more debt, either. [+0 pts.]

FITNESS: I'm a bit obsessed about my weight, although you may not know this. I keep a pocket-sized calendar in the bathroom and write down my weight every morning. My weight goes up and down more than G.W.'s approval ratings over the past 6 years. From my weight last January 1, I managed to gain about 7 pounds, then lose 15 pounds and now have gained back about 8. For those of you keeping track, that basically means that I made no progress in reaching my goal weight for '06. I feel like this year is the year, though. [+0 pts.]

RELATIONSHIPS: Kind of like my weight, I have to admit that my majoy romantic relationship this year was a bit of a roller coaster at times. But, compared to years past, this one has been the best ever. In January of '06, I met the greatest guy that I've ever known in my whole life. I'm so thrilled that we've made it through this first year together and can't wait for the rest of them! [+100 points for 2006!]

It was definitely a great and memorable year. Although I didn't make progress in every way, I have to say that at least I didn't regress! And that, in itself, my friends, is progress.

Happy New Year to everyone! And here's hoping that your 2007 is better than any year past!

On Autopilot

What a thrill it was when as a child we would be driving in the car and pass someone in another car that I knew!!! This happened often when we'd be leaving the subdivision and would approach the car of a neighborhood friend. Waving frantically, I'd grin out the window, hoping my friend would see me. What were the chances that we would both be riding in cars at the same time and the paths of those two cars would intersect?

Then there was the phase when my mother would be driving and see somebody that she knew went to school with me. She would honk at them as I would shrink down in the passenger seat and hope that whoever it was didn't recognize me and the fact that my mother was so incredibly mortifying.

Once I got my license, seeing a friend in another car in the road became an invitation for a challenge. I specifically remember racing my friend Garrett down Highway 70 to see who could make it to the bowling alley first. Granted, I was driving my mom's Plymouth Caravan woody-style mini-van and he was driving his mom's minivan, but we were hitting over 90 mph in those suckers. Hey, you gotta work with what you got!

Now, I'm never quite sure what to do when I see somebody driving that I know. I would say that at least one or two mornings out of the five day work week, I end up next to, in front of, or behind a co-worker. Do I wave? Ignore them and continue driving? Rev my engine and take off when the light turns green?

Usually, I just kind of stare straight forward and act oblivious (which really isn't all that much of a stretch). I mean, I don't want to be rude, but if I wave once, do I have to wave every single time they pass me or I pass them on the rest of the way to work? That would make me feel more dumb than pretending like I don't notice them.

Although it would be much more fun to drag race to work every morning!

Suicidal Squirrels

This morning a squirrel ran out in front of my car as I was on my way to work.

I clenched my eyes and waited to hear a thump or crunch but heard neither. I willed myself not to look in my review mirror, not wanting to know if the squirrel had gone to meet his maker.

I gave in and peeked timidly into the rearview. No squirrel! He had survived! I was not a squirrel murderer... today!

***********

Last spring, I was driving down a road. It was two lanes both ways and separated by an island of grass and shrubberies between.

As I drove, I saw a squirrel begin to cross the other two lanes of traffic.

"Poor little squirrel," I thought. "I hope he doesn't get hit!"

The squirrel sprinted across the two lanes of traffic and safely made it to the grassy area in the middle of the road.

Then, the squirrel, as if he had not had enough excitement for the day, decided to sprint across my lanes of traffic. I slowed down, watching him, not wanting to have guilt and squirrel guts smooshed all over my car.

He made it across my lane of traffic just as a car on the right side of me sped past...

The squirrel made a u-turn to try to escape back to the safety of the landscaped island...

And ran directly under the right front tire of my car.

I looked in the rearview mirror that time and saw the smashed squirrel on the road.

I had done it... I had made roadkill.

***************

I remember as a child, I was the oldest of two girls. My little brother was not born until I was nine years old, so my father used to try to get me involved in his interests since he didn't have a son.

My dad liked to go hunting.

He would take me down to Grandma and Grandpa's house, which sat on about sixty acres of woods, to go squirrel hunting. We would go down on a Friday night and wake up before the sun came up on Sunday morning.

Dad and I would walk through the woods, looking for little squirrels hopping from branch to branch, enjoying the brisk fall air. Dad carried his rifle and would expertly shoot the the squirrels.

Then he and I would tromp through the brush and leaves and look for the fallen creature. When we found him, I would pull out a plastic grocery bag. Dad would pick it up and put it in the bag. It was my job to carry the deceased until we were finished hunting and back at the house where Dad would skin the squirrels.

Dad might as well have brought a hound dog with him. At least the hound dog wouldn't have talked the whole time and scared the squirrels away.

******************

One time, Grandma made squirrel stew. It looked like it still had hairs in the meat. I refused to eat it.

******************

And while we're on the subject:

Extended Family

My mother has eight brothers and sisters. Almost all of them live on the East Coast and while I was growing up, we would travel out to visit for three weeks or so every summer. My cousin, Amy, and I were inseparable during those visits and we are still close, however, neither of us has made the trek to visit the other in several years.

My dad has three siblings and I have fifteen cousins on that side of the family. One of my aunts lives in the area; the other two live in Denver and Ann Arbor. We get together for Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter and sometimes Fourth of July.

Even though I have a large family in numbers, while I was growing up, our family was pretty isolated. We didn't really ever have neighbors over for barbecues during the summer, no friends came over to play cards and hang out on the weekends. I remember my best friend from school was always going over to this other family's house for all sorts of events. They even went on vacations together.

Our family was pretty quiet, I guess. My parents had a lot of marital problems, although they didn't end up getting divorced until after I had graduated from college. My dad was involved in city politics and knew a lot of people, but it was almost like our family didn't want to let too many people in close to see what really went on inside our home. My mom kept herself isolated and only confided her problems in long distance phone calls to her sister.

A few years ago, I was invited over to a friend of a friend's garage to play cards and drink some beer. There I met the beginning of what I consider my extended family. They themselves are an extended family: siblings, cousins, old friends from high school, and random connections that somehow tie this eclectic group together. Their children are growing up together like family. We see each other almost every week. We go on vacations together. There is a closeness between us that reminds me of what a family should be.

Today, I am going to the baptism of the newest addition to this family. How lucky am I to be invited to be a part of this beautiful baby girl's life? When I was growing up, this would have been an event for "real" family only... that is, if they were in town at the time.

I am grateful to have these wonderful people in my life. I hope that as we continue in our lives, we can continue to experience life with each other. Joys and successes, sorrows and frustrations. Because that's what family is for...

(But if anyone else moves to freakin' Foley, I'll be pissed right off!)

"Crash"

Vehicle: 1990 Dodge Plymouth Caravan
Driven: April 1996-May 1997
Color: White with wood paneling
Excuse: It was my mom's car....
Damage: Slight fender bender with a lightpost at the grocery store

Vehicle: 1996 Mazda B-Series Pick-up Truck
Driven: May 1997-January 1999
Color: Red
Nickname: Spunky
Damage: Crunched up the front-end pretty badly in November of '97. Slid on some ice in my college parking lot into the back end of two other cars; Mom and Dad decided I didn't need a car at college after that.

Vehicle: 1991 Ford Festiva
Driven: April 1999-July 2001
Color: White with these really cool racing stripes
Nickname: The Roller Skate
Excuse: I could afford it.
Damage: A few fender benders here and there, but nothing serious. Finally, some guy rear-ended me and totalled out the car... I got a check for $1350, which was more than I paid for the car. And, the insurance company let me keep the car because they didn't want to spend the money to have it towed. Score!

Vehicle: 1994 Ford Escort
Driven: July 2001-November 2001
Color: Black
Damage: The tranmission crapped out a few months after I got it, leaving me transportation-less for four months.

Vehicle: 2002 Kia Spectra
Driven: March 2002-July 2002
Color: Maroon-ish
Excuse: I know it is a Kia, but it was my first brand-new-nobody-else-has-driven-it car.
Interesting link to Kia's Crash Test Ratings
Damage: Flipped several times when I fell asleep driving home from work late one night. I was ejected out of the rear window, the car hit a light post and landed on top of me. I was banged up but okay, the car didn't make it.

Vehicle: 1999 Honda Civic
Driven: August 2002-March 2003
Color: Dark Green
Damage: In a drunken stupor, I took a curve too hard and hit another car. One of the biggest (and most expensive) mistakes I've ever made. I was charged with a felony, the car was pronounced DOA.

Vehicle: 1994 Acura Integra
Driven: July 2003-July 2004
Color: Kind of a turquoise
Damage: None that were my fault! Got hit from behind and totalled out the car. Still waiting on the personal injury settlement from that one. (Thanks Dr. Mike for your help!)

Vehicle: 1998 Mazda Protege
Driven: July 2004-November 2004
Color: Burgandy
Damage: Driving home late at night, some car went in the entrance to a subdivision the wrong way, causing me to drive up onto the median. On said median, there was a tree stump that tore under my car and ripped up the radiator. I was okay, other than some minor burns from the airbags.

Vehicle: 1993 Honda Accord
Driven: November 2004-July 2005
Color: Black
Damage: Car would continually overheat and leak oil. It got to the point where every time I needed to drive somewhere, I would pop open the hood and add anti-freeze and oil. Traded it in, knowing that it wouldn't make the drive up to Colorado.

Vehicle: 2004 Nissan Sentra
Driven: July 2005-Present
Color: Dark red
Damage: In December, I had a fender-bender and slightly buckled the hood of my car. Bill and Dave fixed it, so I can open the hood and change the oil... I've been saying that I'm going to bring it in (okay, Dave, take it in) to get fixed 'next week' for the past six months. Maybe I'll call and make an appointment today.....


So, I'm averaging one car per year of driving experience.

Moral of the story: I just saved a ton on my auto insurance by switching to Geico!

P.S. This post would be better if freakin' Blogger didn't SUCK @$$ and would let me upload photos....

The Yo-Yo....

I am about as uncoordinated as most people could ever get. I run into things constantly, am persistantly falling, and just generally drop 25% of the things that I am trying to carry. This "grace" is just part of my charm.

I'm jealous of people who can dance and play sports and.... walk and chew gum at the same time. The fad of the hackey sack during my middle and high school years was a source of constant agony. I've always wanted to learn how to juggle. But, most of all, I'm jealous of people who can yo-yo.

As a kid, I could usually manage to get the yo-yo to perform the typical up and down rhythm required as a basic skill. But, I could never figure out how to do any of those fancy-schmancy tricks. The problem is that yo-yo-ing seems easy enough that everybody should be able to do it... That is everybody in the entire world except me.

Walk the Dog, Gravity Pulls, Pinwheels, Time Warps, Ferris Wheels.... All beyond me.

I've given up trying to learn to become graceful and have accepted my role in society as somebody without any cool, eccentric talents that can land me a spot on one of those late night television shows. But, I definitely still watch with envy anytime I see some kid showing off with a yo-yo.

So there I was....

As I sat in my office at the "aquatic center" I manage, I heard the long, shrill whistle blast from the deep end of the activity pool signaling a save was underway. I sprinted out the door. One of the lifeguards was standing on her lifeguard stand pointing towards the area where the rescuer had jumped into the water.

I ran down to the side of the pool and helped the guest and the lifeguard get out of the water. The lifeguard adjusted his rescue tube and put on his visor while getting back on stand. I took the about twelve-year-old (non)swimmer around the shoulders and led him towards my office.

"Who are you here with today?" I asked.

"My uncle," he told me. "He's over there."

We tracked down his uncle and went to my office to fill out an accident report. I discovered the boy's name was Shon (yes, that is spelled correctly) and the reason his uncle hadn't been in the water with him was because he had just finished eating and didn't want to get stomach cramps.

What I then was an audience to was probably one of the most humorous tirades I've ever heard.

Shon's uncle did a great job of making Shon feel guilty for going swimming in an area that was too deep for him to touch. He told Shon how lucky it was that the lifeguard was there to help him out of the water...

"You need to thank this nice lady here, Shon," the uncle said, gesturing towards me. "And you need to thank that lifeguard that got you out of the water. Because, you know what, Shon? If that lifeguard wasn't there, Shon, then Shon'd be goin' to heaven!"

With tears in his eyes, Shon thanked me and humbly made his way towards the location of the lifeguard who had helped him out of the pool. I felt so bad for the poor kid who'd jumped into the pool and not realized how deep the water was.

Moral of the Story: Lifeguards are simply instruments of the Lord

(Getting a good tan is just one of the perks.)

Peace, love, and oreos,
Violet

The Original Lemonade Stand

Ever since I was a child, I've had an entrepreneurial streak in me. I've been known to create grand schemes down to the last minute detail. The problem is that I'm also cursed with this annoying optimism that all of my ideas are always going to come to fruition in just the way that I picture them. Sometimes, they don't.

My first venture into the capitalistic market was the "Lemonade Stand." I know I was only 4 or 5 years old (because it was in our 'old house') and I think I got the idea from Sesame Street. I watched Betty Lou and Grover set up a lemonade stand and rake in the dough as all of their friends from Sesame Street and beyond stopped at the stand to quench their thirst from the scorching sun. I knew I could totally do that.

I convinced my mom to help me make a pitcher of Kool-Aid (we didn't have lemonade, but that was okay, since I preferred grape Kool-Aid over lemonade any day) and carry a small end table outside our house and up to the sidewalk. I got a little change purse and stocked it full of quarters in case anybody didn't have exact change. I made a little sign to advertise, stuck it on the front of my table, and sat... and sat... and sat.

My first customer was my mom. She bought a cup of the Kool-Aid (that she had provided) and then sat on the porch with a book, watching me from a distrance. It seemed that there weren't a lot of people out of the streets that day (probably too hot) and the cars that did drive by weren't interested in stopping for a refreshment. My dad got home from work and he also bought a drink. He paid with a dollar and let me keep the change. I could tell that things were looking up now.

I didn't sell any other lemonade that day. But, for me, I had a net gain of $1.25. It was a start.

Later, once we moved to the 'new house,' my neighbor friend, Sara, and I tried to have a car wash. We got all of our materials ready: water, soap, towels, posters... We didn't have much business, though. It probably didn't help that we were holding our car wash in my driveway, in a court, in a subdivision, in the suburbs of the Midwest. Not a lot of traffic, you know? Our bikes sure were shiny, though.

Probably my most ambitious project was when I was in fifth grade. Another neighborhood friend and I decided that we wanted to hold a carnival. So, in order to raise funds for the event, we held a garage sale and earned about $75. Our mothers told us to save ourselves the trouble and just split the money from the garage sale. We would hear nothing of it.

We planned and organized all the booths that we would need for the event. We purchased tickets and concessions and prizes. We rounded up the other kids around the neighborhood and drafted them into service to help run the different games. We rode our bikes far and wide to put up signs advertising the fair.

The carnival ended up being a huge success. All the kids from the neighborhood showed up. We binged on popcorn and soda and gave away all the prizes. However, we gave away most of the tickets and ultimately didn't profit from the event. Our investment was not high-yielding, to say the least. We probably should've heeded our mothers' advice and kept the cash from the garage sale. But, the garage sale wasn't nearly as fun as the carnival.


As summer starts to roll around, I know that there will be kids waiting patiently at lemonade stands for a customer to stop by. I always stop. I've pulled u-turns to go back to lemonade stands and dug through the abyss of my car searching for change to pay for a cup of lemonade from those kids. But, I always do it. And, I'll tell you what. Watching those kids scurry around to pour a cup and trying to count out the correct change is almost just as fun as setting up the Lemonade Stand for the first time.