It's Official: I'm a Dealer

Politically speaking I am more of a Republican than anything. However, I'm not as Republican as some since I actually do care about the environment. And I'm not a huge NRA activist. In fact, while I understand the right to bear arms was a fundamental liberty once-upon-a-time, I am not so fond of guns or their accouterments. I don't care to see, touch or hear them.

So you might be able to imagine my surprise when my father-in-law brought an old circa 1965 US military ammunition box to my home for Sunday dinner. But, as is typical for George, the surprises did not stop there.

"Hey, Deb," he called out as he was leaving for the evening, "Can you give that ammo box to Steve at work on Monday."

I like my brother-in-law (aka my co-worker) Steve and am happy to facilitate family errands, so naturally I replied, "Of course."

"Your employer shouldn't mind too much, right," he stated more than asked.

"I don't think Security is going to stop me over an ammo box," I said, suddenly doubting it myself, "It's not like there is really ammunition in there."

George looked at me in silence.

"There isn't ammunition in that box. Is there?" I asked.

"Well sure, some," he admitted, and then turned around and walked out my front door.

I am not experienced in dealing arms. So the next day I called my brother-in-law at work from a phone in an empty conference room. I asked him to meet me at my car, because I had a very important package for him.

Is that how you deal in contraband? Hope so.

She's Too Hot for Marriage

I have made a conscious effort from their infancy to brainwash D1 and D2 into believing that they should allow me, the one person in the world that has nothing but their best interest at heart, to plan their weddings. I make no secret about the fact that this would be an attempt to re-create my wedding day, but with better choices. And when I say, "plan their wedding", I mean everything. As in everything. From choosing the wedding dress to the paper mint cups, of course it will all be tasteful and perfect. Their young age does not temper the seriousness of my intent in this scheme.

For the most part D1 has accepted this enormous generosity as fact and has not questioned my motives. When she has begun to inquire, I have quickly reminded her that on her wedding day she is the Princess Bride. Once she makes the most important decision of all, on who will be her future husband, she should not have her mind cluttered with more choices. At this point in the conversation, D1 usually smiles faintly and lets the matter drop.

As D2 has gotten older however, her independent mind is becoming more apparent. And as such, she has become more of a problem in my planning-the-girls'-weddings conspiracy.

One evening D2 had gone to the Home Depot with me and, as usual, ran to the paint section to grab - er steal - as many paint chips as she felt she could - without me forcing her to carefully file them all back. On the way home, she picked two colored squares and placed them side by side. Shoving them in my face, she showed me what she called her "wedding colors." I gasped at the juicy orange and electric teal samples.

"Oh, Sweetheart," I lightly chuckled, trying to downplay the seriousness of the situation.

"You know that Mommy is going to pick your wedding colors."

D2 shook her head furiously and an argument ensued. D2 asserted her rights to plan her "own wedding" as I attempted to convince her this was something best left to her loving mother. I could tell I was losing the debate, but that failed to dissuade me from continuing the heated discussion.

Finally, D2 threw up her hands in frustration.

"It doesn't matter," she confessed, "since I'm never getting married anyway."

"What!" I shrieked.

"Of course you will!" I tried to assure her. And myself. I was not ready to let my visions of her gloriously planned wedding slip away so soon.

D2 was silent.

"Love, what would keep you from getting married?" I questioned hesitantly.

With fingers up by her head forming quotes in the air, she replied,

"Duh!"

And then with finger quotes curling, she continued slowly and distinctly,

"Global. Warming."