Dan and I went to a fund raiser for a fellow Politico last week. It‘s wonderful to see old friends but I should’ve known that I would be asked for more than just my admission. I found myself all wrapped up in the ‘volunteer frenzy’ and totally volunteered to make 100 phone calls for the campaign from my house (because I have all the time in the world while I’m home with Ella, go ahead and laugh at me now). It’s pretty easy since Dan is home today sick. Ella is pestering him to play tea party and I am getting lots of phone calls made.
Ella has learned a few ‘choice’ words from Dan and I. Her favorite one is unmistakable; she says it clear as day and totally in context. She is fiddling with the bottom of her toy vacuum, she has a pretend screw driver and out of her angelic lips we hear “Dammit! Heavy sigh Dammit.” Usually, we try not to make it a big deal, we figure she’ll either forget it eventually or we’ll have to have a talk about “words we can ONLY use at home”
I am on the phone with nice ol’ Mrs. SweetPepper-ButterPie who’s about 75 and not sure about a political yard sign in her yard. She says I’d better call and check with Mr. SweetPepper-ButterPie and ask him, he’s down at the Church, and I’m writing down the number as I’m saying “Thank you very much Mrs. SweetPepper-ButterPie… oh yes, ma’am I’ll keep warm, you too… ba-bye.” I dial the church and ask for Mr. SweetPepper-ButterPie and the woman says “You mean Pastor SweetPepper-ButterPie?” I say “oh, yes Ma’am.” The voice of James Earl Jones with a dash of molasses mixed up into it gets on the phone and I am explaining about how I talked to Mrs. SweetPepper-ButterPie minutes ago and she said I should call him at work and we were just wondering about the yard sign and the candidate is a real nice fella and I’m doing my best to remember all my manners and I am rambling and then I decide to just stop talking and wait to see what he thinks of this crazy lady on the phone and I bet you see where this is going? As I force my self to just. shut. up... Ella is in the background on my end of the phone working on her vacuum again and she is yelling “Dammit dammit dammit! C’mere bacume! Dammit!”... !! ...Where is my dear husband? In the bathroom howling with laughter.
There will be no encores - we are all in time out