Here’s one prom night some Churubusco teens will never forget.
My sister, Margaret, and her husband, Greg, created more than a few Saturday when they were entering a gaggle of teens, serving them dinner and taking pictures prior to The Big Event – the Churubusco Junior-Senior Prom. Little did they know they were about to give the kids a prom night they would never forget.
After dinner, they took the teens outside to pose on the balcony.
Here’s one of the photos of the first group of the younger kids – freshmen and sophomores:
Here’s the progression of the second group and their photos — there were not many, as this happened almost immediately after they posed for the photo:
Luckily, no one was seriously hurt and they marched on to the prom. One guy had a rip in his tux, another had a cut, another was scraped up and there were multiple contusions.
All I’ve got to say is it’s pretty hard to walk in those skyscraper heels, but those lovely ladies fell and were covered in debris and still managed to land on their feet without breaking an ankle. And they still looked amazing! They all dusted themselves off and looked good as new – not one hair out of place.
Should have used some of that hair spray to seal the deck.
It’s Juan Valdez, the attractive man known for leading a donkey laden with burlap bags of coffee beans through the hills of Columbia.
God, how I want those beans.
I find myself making up lame excuses, dressing up in my whole-latte jeans, then sneaking out and grabbing a good, old fashion jumbo mug of java, after claiming to be “off the sauce” or “almost-stimulant-free”.
It’s the thrill, the excitement of that initial buzz that keeps me going back for more. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t stop myself.
Oh Juan, why?
Afterwards I’m nervous, shaky and my heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest, but I find myself already planning my next dark roast adventure.
Hello. My name’s Viv and I’m addicted to caffeine.
It could be worse. I could be addicted to sex or drugs or alcohol or sniffing new crayons or the National Enquirer.
Oh wait, I am addicted to the National Enquirer. Of course, it’s just for the crossword puzzles. And if you buy that, my brother browses Penthouse for the highbrow political commentary.
The trouble is I don’t really notice when I cross that defining line and transform from a lethargic and pulse-free aging female to a Jump Jiving an’ Wailing junkie who gets light-headed from the flapping sound of her own rapidly blinking eyelids.
That’s the point when I become, well … my friends call it “edgy.” My enemies call it worse.
I decided to go cold turkey and just quit caffeine. It was the longest eight hours of my life.
6 a.m.: Got out of bed, sat on the couch, and fell back to sleep while putting on flip-flops.
7 a.m.: Drug myself into the bathroom and fell into coma-like stupor on the rug. Dreamed I was on a Folgers Cruise with Juan in the Isle of Maxwell.
8 a.m.: Came to with a RAGING, POUNDING headache. Decided to try to sleep it off.
8:01 a.m. – 1 p.m.: Slept.
1 p.m.: Had to do a load of laundry. Nodded off until my head hit the spin cycle. Maybe just half a cup? To take the edge off.
2 p.m.: Feel a little better after downing 4 ounces of strong brew. Read the National Enquirer with startling zoom shots of “Celebrity Cellulite in Curacao.” There was a sidebar recipe for a body scrub of coffee grounds and avocados that was guaranteed to reduce the appearance of cellulite. Hmmm … it had to work even better from the inside.
3-4 p.m.: Okay, okay, so I brewed a pot and drank the entire thing. Get off my back. The important thing is, I feel like my old self, albeit with dilated pupils and rapid heart rate, but faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.
4-5 p.m.: Decided to clean the closets and rearrange the stuff under all of the sinks.
5-8 p.m.: Brewed another pot of coffee. Been thinking of putting in larger patio slab; this seems as good of time as any. How hard can it be to form and frame a 12′ by 12′ square and mix and pour concrete?
8 p.m. – midnight: Finally got some work done – 10 chapters! – on The Book That Will Never Be, plus I posted 10 status reports on Facebook, Twittered several mind-blowing thoughts, posted three recent craft projects on Pinterest and emailed copies to all to my friends who refuse to engage in social networking.
1-3 a.m.: Can’t sleep. Might as well have a cup of coffee … I’m already awake. Called mom to ask what kind of stitch I should use for the binding on that quilt I started. Before she hung up on me she said if I called again at 2 p.m. she would call the police.
Here are two good reasons to take a lethargic 14-year-old teen on a 12-hour road trip:
1. I get the back seat and the fat pillow.
2. We’re there already? Wow, that was quick.
Here are 25 reasons not to take the same road trip with a hyperactive 12-year-old:
1. Is that a deer? Did you see that? Might have been a wolf. Looked kinda like a wolf, don’t you think?
2. How many miles have we gone? How many to go? Are we out of Indiana yet?
3. It’s hot in here. I gotta stick my head out the window.
4. Why does it say “slippery when wet?” Cause it’s not slippery when it’s dry? It could still be slippery if you spilled a pop or somebody spilled a tanker of oil or something. They should change the sign to just say “slippery.”
5. Did you see that? That guy had a gun. Well, it could have been a coffee cup, but it sure looked like a gun.
6. I can’t go to sleep cause I’m an in-som-knee-act. Do you think I could be an in-som-knee-act? Do you, mom?
7. Are we out of Ohio yet? How much longer?
8. Doesn’t in-som-knee-act sound like a good Halloween costume?
9. I CAN’T sleep. I’m not sleepy at all. Did you know snakes don’t have eyelids? I don’t think I have eyelids. Insomkneeacts don’t have eyelids; probably why they can’t sleep.
10. Did you see that guy? He looked just like that guy on America’s Most Wanted! He just drives around , murdering people
11. That sign says “Watch for ice on bridge.” There’s no ice – it’s soooo hot out. They should take that sign down, right, mom?
12. Did you see that kid in the back of that car? He stuck his tongue out at us. Catch up to them and I’ll do it back. Hurry, mom!
13. Are we out of Pennsylvania yet? How much longer?
14. There’s another “Scenic overlook ahead.” It’s dark but I bet we could still see some scenic stuff. Maybe that murderer is there on the cliff and we can push him over and call the police. Okay, mom?
15. How much longer? How many states have we been to? How many more to go?
16. Harrisburg 200 miles?! We’ve been in Pennsylvania for a thousand miles already! We should have taken an airplane, right, mom?
17. Do you think when we are in Washington D.C. that we will see the president? I’ll bet we see the guys who watch him and they will have lots of guns.
18. If you got shot in the arm, would you die? How about in the leg? What about in the chest, not in the heart, but right here, look, mom – right here – would you die then?
19. Are we halfway there, yet? A fourth of the way? Three-fourths of the way? Fourteen eighteenths of the way? Three hundred and forty thousandths of the way?
20. How can we still be in Pennsylvania? We should be in the ocean by now!
21. Do you think if we missed the road to Washington, D.C. and drove into the ocean by mistake, the car would sink or float? Should I leave the window down so we can get out? Should I wake up Chris, just in case?
22. What if I fell out of the car right now? Would you stop? What if you slammed on your brakes and everyone behind you fell off the edge of this mountain?
23. Did you see that? It looked like a couple of mooses. But they don’t have horns. Well, maybe one did. Might have been an elk. What’s the difference between a moose and an elk?
24. Who picks up all the dead animals on the road? What do they do with them? Do the Dead Animal People take care of them if they are not all-the-way dead? Cause that would be mean if they didn’t, wouldn’t it?
25. How much longer? I’m not sleepy at all. This is fun, huh, mom? How much longer?
The human brain is an amazing thing … especially when it’s working.
I wouldn’t know.
There are days when I cannot remember the names of my children.
But, I have no trouble remembering all of the words to a dirty limerick that Terry Hougendobler sang to me after we climbed to the top of an old dead tree in the Clay Pit on Pleasant Street when I was in the fourth grade.
P— Pot Pete, Came over the hill with 120 pounds …
Well, we won’t go there … it’s only Tuesday and too early for me to let loose with my weekend vino, tongue muscle fatigue and the bellowing of dirty ditties.
But I can’t remember if I ate breakfast and I can remember the Clay Pit and the dirty limerick? What the heck is that all about?
Oh yeah, I think it’s called Getting Old.
Stacy, Geoffrey, Christopher and Benjamin.
The names of my kids.
I mean really, who the heck could remember that?!
Here’s to you Terry, for keeping my brain active — even into old age.