February Frenzy Meets March Madness

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While the majority of America is (or was) betting on brackets and watching ESPN makes Hessians out of college basketball players (or should I say "scholar-athletes"?), the Campos clan was busily trying to arrange something nearly as complex as an NCAA tournament. Rather than bore you with the details of our multi-state move, two new jobs, three children starting new schools, one joining the Army, and our buying and selling of homes all over the Atlantic coast, I'll just quote Dave Eggers here (again), "I have no idea how people function without near constant internal chaos. I'd lose my mind." (~A.H.W.O.S.G.) And ps: if you haven't read his memoir yet, it's time to get to your local bookstore and pick up a copy. You can borrow mine if you want. While you're at it, grab a copy of WHAT IS THE WHAT, and then you'll be a hero(ine) and a legend among your book club friends.

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In the midst of the chaos, we were able to enjoy my nephew's baptism (Hunter Allen Roberts), and a going away party for my younger brother Scott, who, as chronicled in a previous blog post, recently joined the Army and got engaged. We had Scott, and his fiancee Jeanine out for dinner recently, and we enjoyed a delicious meal, including charmoula, the recipe for which my sister-in-law Diane gave me last year. We also managed to drain a few too many bottles of wine, some scotch, and a few martinis in between. What can we say? Everything tastes better, and goes down more smoothly, when the company is good, and the conversation lively.

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Speaking of conversation, my husband and I regaled our dinner guests with the 2006 story (replete with reenactment) of how he nearly drown me by recommending that I clean the bottom of the pool while wearing his weighted SCUBA belt. Considering that my husband has the densest body mass of any human I know, and I lack the strength to kick the covers off in the morning, I think it is obvious how my first (and last) pool vacuuming experience ended. The paramedics were not called, but I attribute that miracle entirely to the Beverly YMCA for teaching me basic lifesaving skills in the 5th grade. (I would also like to attribute it to my incredibly slim waste that was able to wiggle out of the weight belt without unfastening it, thus allowing me to escape its death grip, but I am 1) not sure that is true, and 2) not sure if those are the types of things one should admit in public.)

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Other fun and exciting things that happened this last month. Casey, the boys, and I went to Time to Clay pottery so that each of them could make a "wish box". A place for them to put their wishes as a way of lessening their anxieties about the many upcoming changes. Of course, my two little tightwads only want to put money it their wish boxes, because the idea of an online bank account just doesn't make sense when you are 5. It doesn't matter how many times I show them their online balances, I get the same question each time: "If my money is in the computer, why do we have to go the ATM?"

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Last, my husband and I were able to enjoy a few days off from parenting, and attend the wedding of a dear family friend. A few notable events happened during this brief escapade.

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First, we managed to take less than two pictures the entire time. This tends to happen often. Probably far too often. I've included the one picture I took of Carli, standing near the fort in St. Augustine. He's handsome. I don't need tons of pictures to prove it.

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Second, we drove our first hybrid vehicle. A rather frightening experience when you realize that the car is moving (super silently) and you are about to run over an entire pod of innocent pedestrians.

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Third, I got a tattoo. Well, to be more accurate, it's a temporary henna tattoo, which is still pretty risky for someone like me. The best/worst part was that I had to sit in a store front window while the "artist" painted it on me, and then I had to walk around with my shirt tied with a rubber band in the back for about an hour while it dried. I felt like I looked just like one of those horribly tacky people who want the world to see their lame tramp stamp tattoo so they wear a half-shirt and parade around tourist locations, when they really have no business, and the weather does not call for, wearing half-shirts.

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Fourth, we saw an amazing band at a colorful local establishment called The Trade Winds Tropical Lounge. If you haven't been, you should really visit Trade Winds, because it is the type of place that reminds you, that the majority of people in this country are not concerned with feeding their children organic food, are happy to drink the well vodka, and are really and truly not concerned with how much your shirt is, or is not, riding up and revealing your alleged "back fat".

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Fifth, at this same establishment, I met Steven Segal (or his doppleganger, see the photo to believe it), AND an honest-to-goodness, living and breathing guy named Bubba, who had to be at least 6'5", with feathered bangs, and wearing a full denim suit (with vest). Bubba is a mortgage broker, and he was in town to receive payment on an outstanding debt in the form of a motor boat. Bubba was possibly the most friendly person I ever met, and he astonished us with his plans for "making that boat rock" all night long. Bubba, I hope all your dreams came true.

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And like I said, there was an AMAZING band playing, The Red River Band, and here's a short clip of them covering a Charlie Daniels tune. I thought the man was playing the violin, but I was later corrected, and learned that he was playing the "fiddle". Whatever it was, it was awesome.