A Review: The Night I Went to a Dance Revue

In today's post you will find these words, proffered for such a time as this
by Rachel and Jackie, whom I adore.
Good words, girls. Who knew they'd fit my week so neatly?

Demarche -- A course of action; a maneuver.

Cancatervate -- To heap into a pile.

Mulligrubs -- Ill temper; colic; grumpiness.

And now, our story.

Approximately one and one half weeks ago, my friend Cassie and I made plans to attend a dance revue together (which I referred to in an email as a dance "review").

I hang my head in shame even now.

The day of the revue (which I will never ever misspell again, ever, in addition to the word "reservoir" which may or may not have stymied my taking STATE in the '89 (or was it '90?) Spelling Bee) arrived yesterday. Plans began to fall through around three o'clock in the p.m. Stretch would have to work late so I needed a new [demarche] for childcare. Yeeha.

After casting my net for a sitter in the form of a text message blast, I came up empty. My friend Angela, who'd come over that morning for a visit/play date, offered to come back and watch the kids for me so that I could keep my date. {She's a diamond in the rust.}

The plan of action: she'd go home, get her kids bathed and fed and come back, while I did the same here.

I began filling the tub to start baths and noticed the water pressure was low. I walked out to take care of other things (which I can't recall now) and when I returned, it was down to just a trickle, so I shut it off and proceeded to [cancatervate] the children into the tub and scrub them down in just a few inches of water.

A bath is a bath.

Having spent the day laying in the sun, my skin was not ready for the public. It was overladen (read: overloaded) with layer upon layer of Banana Boat Dark Tanning Oil. Hate the feeling, love the scent. The point though, was that there was no way I could show up to the revue (not "review" you dork) like that. And I had no running water. It was so uncivilized.

Suddenly, I remembered those three gallons of water that I'd purchased last year for hurricane season, that were still sitting under the carport. There are days when being a pack rat pays off. This, being one of them.

So with a gallon of water, I:

• Brushed my teeth.
• Wet a wash cloth and gave myself a quick, make-shift gypsy bath to knock the stank off, which there was plenty of.
• Wet, washed and rinsed my filthy head - which is extremely difficult to do with a jug of water that you're trying to reserve... because it was my last. (I'd already used up the other two.) Midway through the rinse, I set the jug down on the side of the tub, but instead of setting it down flat, I put in on the towel I had draped over the side, and then in all my klutzy glory, I knocked it over onto the floor, and watched 1/4 of my last gallon of water flood the floor behind my toilet. Wunderbar.
• Enter full-blown mulligrubs, rightly defined as ill-temper, colic and grumpiness. I was heavily afflicted with all three, with the exception of the colic.
  

It's now 5 o'clock, and Angela will be here at 5:30. My kids? Hungry. My hair? In a towel on my head. The house? Utter chaos. Meanwhile, I'm having to make some calls to get help with our water sit-chee-ation. Our neighbor? Offshore. Our other neighbor? Not home from work yet, but his bride say's she'll have him stop by on his way home. "Oh good! Thank you!"

Angela arrives and kids kick energy into maximum for game of indoor hide-n-seek. Super.

Meanwhile, I'm attempting to fix my hair (which I officially suck at) and walk out to answer the phone. Puddin' wanders into the bathroom (of course he does) and wraps his tiny hand around my very hot curling iron. My next move is swift -- to the kitchen to slather his little fingers with butter (because I remember reading somewhere that that takes the sting out of burns, but he's allergic to dairy, so I sure hope he doesn't have some sort of awful reaction to it on his skin).

The next series of events unfolds something like this:

• remember first aid kit in car and rummage until finding burn gel
• neighbor shows up to look at well
  
• feel embarrassed, out of control, and guilty for having to leave this mess with my house full of people that don't live here
• people total upon departure: 11
  
• supposed to meet friends at 6:15
• the next time i look at the time, it's 6:25 and I'm still at home.
• leave home when revue is starting
• Insanity. Insanity. Insanity.

I think I started breathing normally again somewhere around 7:30 or so. After the REVUE, we went for coffee. I had a steamed milk with vanilla. That, and the sweet girl time, was just what the doctor ordered.