True Story Tuesday - Is it Raining?

Our week was/is insane.  Just to prove the point, here's the evening schedule:

Saturday: birthday party
Sunday: Mother's Day
Monday: Girl's Book Club (alternatively titled: Dads' Night to Solo Parent)
Tuesday: 1st Men's Softball Game
Wednesday:  Katrina's First T-Ball Game (woohoo!)
Thursday:  T-Ball Fundraiser Spagetti Dinner (can't forget to make the pies...)
Friday: Home Group @ our house - Game night
Saturday:  uhh...do we really have a free night?


All that to say, my posts may be few and far between this week, but I finally remembered a great story from my past that I could not pass up for today.





Join Rachel & Mr. Daddy over at Once Upon A Miracle for more *mostly* true stories!

When I was about 13, my parents and I took a trip to Niagara Falls.  Well, actually, my dad won a trip to Montreal through work.  We decided to take a side trip to Niagara because, well, we were on that side of the country anyways! 


We stayed at this amazing hotel that was right on the falls.  Literally.  You could feel the mist when you walked out onto the balcony, and hear the roar of the water throughout the night. 


Needless to say, Dad and I spent a lot of time on that balcony watching the water.  Mainly because we were impatiently waiting for Mom to get herself ready, but that's another story.

Why put on makeup when you are going to a giant waterfall and all the makeup is going to disappear anyways?

Ahem.  I digress.


Anyways, one morning, we noticed that the row of newspaper boxes was directly underneath our balcony.  And, being the good little rednecks that we are, we made a game.  It was a really fun game.  Want to know what it was called?


Who can spit on the newspaper box?

Remember, I was, and still am, Daddy's girl.  I set out to do anything Dad could.  Other than the peeing while standing.  Still haven't been able to figure that one out...


Ahem.  Again.


So, we are happily spitting and giggling, admiring our launches of bodily fluids as they dropped to the earth.  For those of you who would like to know, the US News box was worth 5 points.  The local paper was worth 3.  And the local version of the Thrifty Nickel was worth 1.  In case you want to play later.


Dad was ahead in the count, of course, but I was determined to stage the comeback to end all comebacks and earn the championship.  Seriously, we are that competitive about everything.  Even spit.  So I dug as deep into my little 13 year old flem-producing regions would allow, and hocked the loogie to end all loogies.  It floated perfectly through the air.  Right on target.  The wind died miraculously just as I spit, allowing my flem to travel in the God-given straight path direct toward victory.


And then we saw the hand.


And then the arm.


And then this fabulously bald head, creeping towards the box.


You know those really horrible wrecks you drive by, or the disasters you see on TV?  The ones so horrific that you just can't turn away?  Yup, that was Dad & I.  Choking back laughs and hitting each other and trying to stay silent as the flem projectile locked in on its target.


And nailed that fabulously bald head.


We avoided eye contact with any bald man we saw for the rest of the trip. 


Mom was so horrified she didn't talk to us for at least two hours.


But I won.