Randomly heard in the car

Let's set up the scene first:

We were in Florida. We'd visit Dan's family in Daytona for a couple of days after taking a cruise to Jamaica. We were flying home out of Ft. Lauderdale, where the rental car had to be returned by 9:38am. 9:38am. And Ft Lauderdale airport was basically 4 hours away. Meaning we had to be up and out the door by about 5:30am. With two teenagers and a twenty year old. Sure. No problem, mon.

The night before, I mentioned to Dan about the idiot who decided to try to blow up his underwear, and a whole Airbus full of people, in Detroit. Detroit happened to be where our layover was going to be, so I had some concerns about what travel would be like the next day. Now let me tell you, I fly with Xanax on board, but I don't have enough to share with cranky teenagers, so I had a legitimate concern. Dan was worried about the weather on Sunday, which was our day to fly out. This was how we made the executive decision to go home a day early.

Dan insisted that getting up at 5:45 was going to be plenty early, so I set his cell phone alarm for 5:15 and when it went off, made him get up and at 'em. I had suggested to the boys, only half joking, that they sleep in the van the night before, but alas, they were on the couch, head to head. Woke 'em up, then went and woke up Jill. There was much unintelligible speech. I actually believe that the only thing I understood was the fact that Thomas couldn't find his phone. Oye and vay.

"You had it last."
"No, you probably lost it."
"Actually, I had it last, but it's been moved from where I left it."
"I don't know why you people can't give me my stuff back after you borrow it. I need my phone."
"Well where did you leave it?"
"I didn't have it last."
"You had it last....."

See where this is going? In the midst of this, another conversation starts.
"It's cold out there. Can I take a blanket?"
"No, share your brother's."
"I don't want HIS blanket. I want a blanket of my own."
"What are you going to do with a blanket at the airport? We already have one to deal with. Just dress warm."
"Can I take a pillow?"
"NO."
"I don't know how you think I'm going to be able to sleep when it's this cold out and I don't have a blanket or a pillow."
"I'll turn the heat on in the car, dear."
SILENCE
DOOR SLAMS
"I still haven't found my phone."
"Why doesn't someone CALL your phone?"
::vibrate vibrate vibrate::
"I think it's in the couch."
::triumphant look from owner of the phone::
::triumphant look disappears when he realizes that the phone has fallen into the couch, right where he was sleeping:: It's hell taking responsibility for something you've been blaming other people for. We headed out to the van.

It was still dark out, so the kids knocked right back out. After an hour or so, Dan decided to call Northwest to see if we could, indeed, get a flight out when we arrived. Now let me say, Dan is from the land of Speak Loudly on the Phone. This is something he inherited from his dad, and who knows, maybe his dad's dad, but Utter men are LOUD on the phone. Heck, they are loud when NOT on the phone. In either event, he started talking to Northwest, and the boys woke up. Here's what ensued:

"Yes, my name is Mr. Utter. We have reservations to fly out on Sunday, but I wanted to see if we could leave today, as we have a medical emergency at home."

From the far left back seat, in a very shrill voice: "I'm bleeeeeding...."
Deep voice from the far right back seat replies "I'm dyyyyiinnng...."
Near back seat yells "SHUT UP OR I WILL KILL YOU ALL."

"Well, I can't afford $1000 extra to change these tickets. I thought we were on the list of states that can change our itinerary for free, due to the weather."

Far back left seat yells "I want $1000."
Far back right seat replies "You already GOT $1000 that you didn't deserve."
Near back seat bellows "Shut UP."

"I don't think we can make the 11am flight. That's probably cutting it too close."

Far back left seat says "Is it weird that I am most excited about getting home to see my dog?"
Near back seat says "I don't want to go home early. Why are we going home early?"
Far back right seat replies "we have a medical emergency. Dundundun...."
Near back seat: "what the hell?"
I say very little, as I am both laughing through the entire exchange, and mystified as to why he feels we have to have a medical emergency in order to get home. We usually create them without any problems. I don't tempt fate by making them up.

Dan finally got the tickets changed, and no, it didn't cost $1000. We got it done for free. He announced that we're leaving at 3pm.

Female voice says "are the seats together? I don't want to sit next to some creeper. I know that we're gonna end up separated, and I'm gonna be the one next to a creeper."
Far back seat says "I just want a window seat. I've never gotten one."
Far back seat now is snoring.

Dan asks if anyone wants cereal. It gets very quiet. Turned out he had brought a box of Honey Bunches of Oats, a box of Frosted Flakes, some Pop Tarts, and a gallon of milk was chilling in a paint bucket full of ice. The boys decline, which confuses Dan, as he is also from the land of Eats-a-lot. Jill went back to sleep. Every few minutes, Dan asked the boys if they want some cereal, but it had quiet back there too, so he didn't get a response. He kept asking me too, though I have no idea how I could've eaten cereal whilst driving, even if I had wanted it. Dan even offered to feed me, but after I told him that I was sure to vomit if I ate Frosted Flakes, he finally gave up trying and fixed himself a bowl. And a Poptart.

Pretty soon, Seth started writhing around in the far back seat. Jill, who had been collapsed on the seat behind me, sat up, looking rather dazed. Seth said "I'm so uncomfortable. I hate this. I need to move and I can't." "Why can't you move?" "Thomas has his head on me."
Apparently, Thomas had keeled over and was sleeping basically with his head in Seth's lap, which is a direct violation of the Bro Code. I guess even Jill knew this, because she immediately offered Seth to move up with her. At which point I almost dropped dead of shock, as Jill has personal space issues, and doesn't usually like anyone piercing her bubble. "You want some cereal," said Dan, for the 56th time. Seth just shook his head, but Jill took him up on it, but only after announcing "I don't remember getting in the car."

So yeah, this is how we roll. With cereal, non-existent medical emergencies, and milk in a paint bucket. And just in case you haven't figured it out by now, we've got issues.

The Twenty Year Old Mulligan

Dan has always told the kids, from a very, very young age, that if they could make it to the age of twenty with no altercations with the police, that they would receive $1000 on their twentieth birthday. Now, you might think that this is a little crazy, but case in point: Dan, by the age of twenty, had had two tickets, and two car accidents, one of which left his mother's Grand Am straddling a median on Post Road. (I think there was tequila involved). One of our friends' daughter had two wrecks in her first year of driving. Another had two speeding tickets in the same timeframe. We'd probably pay out $1000 in insurance premiums if that happened to us, or at the very least, spend the same in gas and Xanax, if they screwed up and we took the keys away and I had to drive them everywhere. What I looked at at first as a silly little bet became a huge carrot, and a big savings for us, both in our checking account as well as my nerves.

When the kids finally started driving, I'd tell them "you know, you can speed up a little bit," and would be met with "no way Mom, I'm driving the speed limit, cause I want my thousand bucks." I started realizing that this bet had MEANING. We did mention to them that it wasn't totally on their word, since we have friends who are police officers, and we'd be running a police report, so they'd better not lie to us.

I should probably mention here too, that I have always told the kids that if they ever wanted to call me and have me pick them up, I'd pick 'em up anywhere, but if they called me from jail, they'd better be telling me they were getting comfortable for the night, cause I would not pick them up. "Well Mom," they would say, "what if it wasn't our fault? What if our friends did something, and we just happened to be there?" Well guess what? Mama didn't raise no dumbies, and I told 'em that I didn't raise them to have stupid friends either, so if they had stupid friends, then they deserved to be in jail, and they'd better not call me. I did mention, however, that their father, probably remembering his youth, would give them one chance, so they could pray that he answered the phone.

Side note: Jill called the other night, at 11:15pm. Phone rang five times, less than three feet from Dan's head. He never budged. Note to children: don't call Dad.

So, Thomas hit the big day on Saturday. The big 2-0, and the boy was chomping at the bit for his moolah. We camped the weekend before, and I told him, "knowing you, you'll end up with a ticket on Friday night," to which Seth's BFF Chris said "many, you'd better walk all week." Nope. Friday night, I give Dan the information to run the police report. Saturday morning comes, and Dan leaves me his checkbook, telling me to make the boy out a check. I think Dan was sweating a little bit. So off he goes to work, ready to meet us at lunch. I decided that it wouldn't be prudent for the boy to walk around with cash or check all weekend, and being a procrastinator, probably until next Thursday, when he would finally go to the bank, so I just went to the bank and transferred the money. Called Dan to verify where the money was transferring from, then called the boy and told him he was $1000 richer. He was pretty happy.

So, I picked up Thomas, grabbed Seth from the house, and drove to meet Dan for lunch (Jill was working and couldn't go). Dan sits down, looks the boy in the eye and says "can you look me in the eye as a man and tell me that you've made it till the age of twenty with no interactions with the police?"

The kid caved.

Turns out that he had a seatbelt violation in April that he neglected to tell us about, to the tune of $25 bucks. He said he came home and told Jill, who promptly told him not to tell us, lest he lose his 1000 bucks. This kid, who always said that he wouldn't lie if we asked him a direct question, caved under pressure and told the truth. Good for him, but dammit, that money was already in his account, so he made off like a bandit, thanks to a forgiving father who gave him a mulligan in the form of a seatbelt violation.

What a guy.

Movin' on Up

I think I've mentioned that Thomas is moving out. He's getting his first apartment, and he's pretty pumped up about it. He came down the other day and asked me if I'd help him pack. I shivered at the thought.

I told him he should start with his clothes first. Do the winter clothes now, and save what he needs to wear this week till later, but bring down the dirty clothes, cause I didn't want him packing away dirty clothes. "I don't have any dirty clothes," said the heir to the throne. Sure. Right. Those of you who have read about his laundry in the past know that it is a thing to be feared.

I went up to his room, and was met with the normal view -- floor covered with clothes. I pointed to one pile and asked, "what is that?" He said "oh, those are dirty." "So you DO have dirty clothes up here. What about these?" I pointed to the pile next to the other one and asked "what's up with these?" "Oh, those are clean." Just exactly how he could tell the difference is something that only a nineteen year old boy would know.

I folded a few things and got him started, then left him to his own devices, telling him to bring the dirty stuff down. A little bit later, he comes down with half a hamper of clothes. I told him that no way was that all of it. He said "well, you don't want it all. There's a LOT." OK, now we're getting to the bottom of it. I told him to go back upstairs and toss down the dirty stuff, cause I was doing laundry, and wanted to do it all at one time. The result was an avalanche of clothes that darn near could've knocked me out, and completely blocked anyone from the stairs.

::sigh::

At this point, I yelled up "throw your sheets down, too." "WHAT," he replied. "THROW YOUR SHEETS DOWN." I gave up all hope with the response:

"I have sheets?"

Weird moments in music

Music plays a big part in our life, here in the Utter household. It started for me very young, since my parents love music of all kinds, from the unforgettable
Mrs Miller (scroll down for the song files), to The Sound of Music soundtrack, which we sang incessantly as kids. I remember many drives to St Louis in our old green Ranch Wagon station wagon, listening to Donna Fargo, singing "The Happiest Girl in the Whole U.S.A.," which my sister still sings, complete with the twang, at the drop of hat.

Memories are made of this.

We've got our own, albeit strange, moments in music, usually in the car, too. Like the time we all went to hear Jill sing with the Indianapolis Children's Choir. It was a Christmas Concert, and afterward, we decided to drive down to the Circle downtown, to see the lights. We ended up somehow with K.C. and the Sunshine Band on the CD player, and drove around the circle I can't tell you how many times, windows down, with all of us singing classics like "That's the Way I like It," and "Get Down Tonight." The kids still talk about that one. It was definitely something to go from the formal concert to disco beats, all while Jill was still in uniform.

We got a lot of strange looks, but we're used to that around here.

One time here at the house, Thomas and I were both on our computers, doing our thing. He was probably about 12 or so, and I realized that he was listening to Frank Sinatra sing "Fly Me To the Moon," or something like that. I commented, "is that Frank Sinatra," and was met with a snarling "WHY does everyone think it's weird that I like Frank Sinatra" followed by glaring silence.

It wouldn't have been weird at all, except the previous two songs had been Metallica and Mindless Self Indulgence.

Then there was the time that he and I drove back from his cousin's wedding, and listened to Lillium, the theme from Elfen Lied, continously, for the two hour trip from Terre Haute to Indianapolis. It's singularly one of the most hauntingly beautiful pieces of music ever, in my opinion, and I think Thomas agrees, to the tune of him listening to it repeatedly for five hours straight one night. Be careful, it's addictive.

Of course, five hours doesn't compare to the time that Dan and I went to see my parents in Winter Park, when we all lived in Florida. We tuned to a station that was playing "Twist and Shout," by the Beatles. Over and over. And over. They played it back to back and, as far as we could tell, without commercial interruption for at least two days straight. We never figured out what that was about, but it definitely elicits a memory every time I hear the song now.

Nowadays, Thomas has something like 3000 songs on his iPod, which he shares with me on the ride to and from school. He's got a little bit of everything in here, except country, because he likes just about any type of music except the twangy stuff. Me, I travel in silence generally, if I'm by myself, but if he's with me, it's Radiohead and Ludo. If it's Jill, it's Jonas Brothers, AC/DC, and the soundtrack from the Patriot (yeah, she's into an eclectic mix of music too), and with Seth, it's usually techno beats. Dan's tendency is toward R.E.M. and the Police, with a side of football commentating.

Me, I have a thing for leaving the same CD in the car for weeks at a time, listening to it over and over, which drives The Brat crazy. One that tends to land there for a season is Nirvana's Unplugged, because I love "The Man Who Sold the World." One time, Thomas' buddy Potter climbed in the van and said, "man, I wish that just once my parents would listen to Nirvana in the car." When I asked him what they listened to, he said "my dad listens to African drum music, and my mom listens to NPR."

Yeah, I guess Nirvana would be a welcome change.

And so, after a long discussion about Radiohead on the way back to school last night, then pulling in the driveway to Miley Cyrus, I went looking for something with a musical bent, and found this vintage poly novelty musical notes print. Wonder what the music on it is? Maybe "Smells Like Teen Spirit?" It'd make me the happiest girl in the whole U.S.A. if you can tell me. It's on ebay, offered by anythingbutlove.

Boys 2 Men

Seth's best friend spends a lot of time at our house. He's kind of one of the boys, but I always tend to have extra boys, so that's fine. These two have been compadres since they were babies of a few months, sitting on Zoe Martinez in the church nursery. They even look a little bit alike.

When Seth was little, he put a pair of scissors in the dining room outlet. I came downstairs, and tried to turn the lights on. I couldn't figure out why they wouldn't work, when Jill says -- without ever looking up, mind you -- "oh, it hasn't worked since Seth put the scissors in that outlet." He was about two. This was the same age at which his buddy, Chris, cut a table lamp's cord in half with scissors, while it was on. Sparks flew, and Chris' eyes got really big, but not as big as the two mothers who were there at the time.

Chris threw Buzz Lightyear down the toilet, Seth put peas up his nose. Chris cut his arm at the river, Seth got a gash in the head in Sunday School. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when Seth came up with an imaginary friend named Chris. "Mom," he'd shout, rather frantically, "don't sit on Chris Smith," whenever we would try to sit next to him. When we'd take off in the car, he'd tell me, "don't take off, Mom, Chris Smith isn't buckled in."

As if I needed anything else to make me think I might just be losing my marbles.

Nowadays, these boys are just two big blonde dorks who play video games and never change their clothes until they're good and ripe. And dorks they are. Today, Chris was sitting next to me, watching TV. Seth came up behind him and was trying to ask him something, when Chris retorted that he was in the middle of something, and to be quiet for a minute. Seth's response? Typical Sethanese: "oh, if you're thinking, I'll leave you alone. Just let me know when you're done."

Oye.

And so, in honor of the two little delinquents in the slow lane to manhood, check out this vintage 50s Arrow shirt, from my gal Kim, at Fast Eddie's Retro Rags, on ebay. It'll get the sparks flying.

Let sleeping grouches sleep.

So, back to vacation (yeah, it's been a discombobulated report, but that's how the whole trip was).

So, we've survived the blown engine, the six hour drive, the trip to Gatlinburg, and the hubby dressing like a woman. We even survived going into Kroger, and the DD getting eyed by some construction worker in the freezer section. Make note, young men, NEVER eye a teenaged girl when her father is nearby, walking, and you are on a ladder. It's not a good idea.

So, we went back to the cabin and got ready to go to bed. Jill announced, yet again, that the loft was hers, and that Seth is going to sleep on the couch. Announces not to wake her up in the morning. Dan says that he's taking Seth golfing in the morning, so that will work out fine -- for everyone but Seth, of course, who gets the couch AND gets woke up early, but he rolls with it. Bratty gets huffy and asks "what are WE doing tomorrow?" I say, "what do YOU want to do," to which she responds, "go to Kroger."

NOT an option, dear.

I tell her that it would be fine if she wants to sleep in, because I know she's tired. I get a rather shrill reply: "I cannot BELIEVE that you would LEAVE ME in the MIDDLE of the woods, ALL ALONE." "Well dear," I say, "I thought you might want to get caught up on your sleep, while the guys go golfing for the morning, and I go to the antique stores. "Oh great," is the response, complete with roll of the eyes, "antiquing or golfing. Those are my choices. GREAT." "No, dear. Your best option is to SLEEP." Another roll of the eyes, and a big sigh of disgust. I tell her that maybe we could find some shopping, but there's probably nothing nearby, other than kitschy shops that sell stuffed bears and chainsaw carvings of eagles and the like. Maybe we can have breakfast out instead, because the stores probably won't be open when we drop the representatives of the Y chromosome at the golf course. She ain't buying it.

Now, I have no idea what this bratty girl thinks that there is to do in Townsend, Tennessee, at 8:30 in the morning, cause it's a one stoplight town that just got an IGA a few years ago. I'm thinking that sleep is a good option, not only for us, but for the whole time. She finally says not to wake her up, "go AHEAD and leave me ALONE in the WOODS while you go SHOPPING. I'm sure I'll be just FINE."

No bear ain't comin' anywhere near this girl. She'd bite it.

Next day, I get up, drive the boys to the golf course, and go out for a little shopping. Found a fabulous 40s velvet beaded dress, and this royally inspired Lewella girdle. Royally inspired? Who thinks about the queen's underwear? But I digress. I drove back to the cabin, where Jill opens the door for me, with a look of death on her face. She looks half asleep,and fully unhappy. I asked her, "how did you sleep? Do you feel better today" to which she said, quite emphatically, "NO. The phone woke me up." Phone?

I go on vacation to get AWAY from phones, but it turned out the telemarketers knew where we were, because they called every morning. Jill never did answer the phone, but I'll tell you what, if she had, those people would not only not call again, they'd probably leave their job, and move into the Unabomber's cabin, in fear for their life. And maybe I'd join them.