My Daughter the Philanthropist. . .

So I signed on to my facebook page after a bit of an extended absence only to discover that Trigger and Ponzi have been writing on each others' walls.  Wait, let me be more specific. .  .fighting on each others' walls.   That's right, leave it up to my two daughters to air their little sisterly tiffs in the most public way possible. . .

And, in the process, I discovered quite by accident that Trigger was coming home for Thanksgiving on Friday and so I threw caution to the wind and commented on Trigger's wall  by saying:

Home Friday?
As in THIS Friday????

 I also discovered that Trigger had written on my wall - and this specific scribble had something to do with her sorority's charity fund-raising efforts. It read:

Mom you didn't donate to my philanthropy.

Now I owe $30!

DONATE NOW!

to which I replied:

Since when did you become a philanthropist?

YOU are MY philanthropy

and I don't see anyone donating to me, now do I?????

Why doesn't facebook have a button that says "dysfunctional"????

Oh and yes, I still miss the days when Writing on Someone's Wall involved crayons and a spanking, but we just may get back there yet. . . 

A Little Knowledge. A Long, Long Way.

So I've heard it said that a little knowledge goes a long way, but they never told me that sometimes you have to go a long way for a little knowledge.

Anyway, here is the little knowledge that I learned while traveling a long, long way to Cleveland this weekend for my nephew's wedding:

 

1. If - because of your husband's newly-enforced budgetary restrictions - you make a "reservation" for your college-aged daughter with a cheap airport shuttle, please understand that the reservation is not confirmed unless/until your daughter receives an actual confirmation email.  The email informing you that the reservation has been canceled will arrive two days after her flight.
2. Last-minute-one-way cab fare from the University of Delaware to BWI will cost an average college-aged daughter somewhere in the vicinity of $150.  It will, however, cost your daughter $200.
3. Having to infuse a college-aged daughter's account with emergency transportation funds will cause a busy mother to discover that the same daughter has recently overdrawn her account. She will also discover that another daughter - who is scheduled to travel the next day - has a grand total of $25 in her account.
4. A quick perusal of her own bank account will cause that same mother to come to the conclusion that it is absolutely imperative that she extract her ATM card from a daughter whose name rhymes with Fonzi because of unauthorized withdrawals which clearly do not qualify as "necessary".
5. Ditto for the mother's  iTunes account.
6. Even after all of these horrendous discoveries, it is best to continue with the mother's plan for getting a pre-wedding mani-pedi and to also agree with salon employee about needing additional eyebrow waxing. . .to look beautiful for nephew's wedding. . .
7. It is best to break all-of-the-above to Drip Dry gently . . . or perhaps not at all.
8. A mother who has never set foot in Dulles airport can successfully talk a second, panicked college-aged daughter through a change of planes. . .  once she discovers her daughter's flight has arrived at gate A-4 and her connecting flight departs from the neighboring gate - A-5.
9. An 82-year-old mother in the backseat of a car complains far less than any number of daughters in the air.
10. One has a significantly better chance of talking to one's dog on the PetSmart Bone Booth than of reaching her 86-year-old father who has been left in respite care with nothing but a cell phone for his means of communication.  (The dog, you see, does not feel the need to turn the phone "off" when finished with a phone call. . . .
11. One should never wear new shoes to a nephew's wedding  . . .unless, of course, you are that guest on the dance floor in a wheelchair.
12. One of the mysteries of the universe centers around the fact that one can dance at a nephew's wedding for five hours straight - but somehow the walk from the hotel elevator to her room will cause the little piggies who ate roast beef to wish they were the little piggies who had stayed home.
13. If Ohio is The Buckeye State and a Buckeye is nothing more than a stinky tree, Ohio could just as easily be designated The Pepe le Pew state.
14. The Keystone State is exactly 320 miles from end to end and is best driven through by texting anyone who ever had the misfortune of giving you their cell phone number.
15. If Drip Dry weren't so darned cheap, you - like your daughters - would have a smart phone so that a multitude of people could be simultaneously tweeted to the hilarity that is you while on an eight hour ride home.

Wait!  This post wasn't all about me?  Was I supposed to say something about the wedding? Well it was beautiful. . . just beautiful  . . .

And well worth every minute spent in the car. . . every painful morning-after step. . . and every cent that Drip Dry agrees that he should not have complained about. . .

Banned from the Bone Booth

Dear Mr. (or perhaps, Mrs ) President of PetSmart PetsHotel,

Do you have bedbugs?

I have burning need to know.

You see, my favorite daughter is scheduled to take up residence in your establishment tomorrow and I'd like to know in advance if you have bedbugs.  (Not you - personally, Mr. President of PetSmart  - I don't really care if you scratch your insides out, I just need to know if your special hypoallergenic lambskin doggie beds are infested with bedbugs.)

I'm feeling a wee-bit perturbed that I couldn't afford to put my favorite daughter up in the swanky  Animal Inn while the humans in the Spin Family travel to Cleveland for my nephew's wedding. . . but this wedding is already costing us an arm and a leg and we didn't have an extra paw left over to pay for doggie swank - especially because those paws developed allergies, causing an unplanned trip to the vet yesterday.

And because I already had to shell out $200 on paw allergies, I need to know if I'm going to have to face the horror of doggie bedbugs when I return.


Do you have daughters Mr. (or perhaps, Mrs.) President of PetSmart, Inc.?    'Cause if you do you'll know how expensive it is for an entire family to attend an out-of-town wedding . . . especially when two of them have to be flown in from different parts of the country.   And did I mention those little airport shuttle fees?  Can you keep a secret Mr. President of PetSmart?  ('Cause I know a Mrs. President would be blabbing already . . . )    Don't let  The Husband-formerly-known-as-Drip-Dry know, but Ponzi's transportation to-and-from the airport is costing us more than her airfare.

Sacre Maroon!

Do you have a husband Mr. ( I guess with this question I'm  hoping you really are a Mrs.) President of PetSmart Inc.?  'Cause if you do, you would also understand the financial pressures I am under here.  For instance, I would have loved to have put Kasey up in one of your fabulous hotel suites with 24-hour pet-centric t.v., or enroll her in  your doggie day care, or ordered her the Bizzy Bundle, or some sort of individualized turn-down service  . . . and God knows I would love to call her each day on the PetSmart Bone Booth just to hear her reassuring  little woof . .  .

But no.   I had to settle for an Atrium room with no amenities.

That's right. . . no snack kongs. .  .no treat times. . . no personal training camp. . . if you can imagine, the poor little dog can't even be groomed for success!   And can you keep another secret, Mr. President?  Don't let on to Drip Dry, but I'm going to splurge and bring the paw medication with me even though it costs an additional $3 a day to administer. But if  he discovers that I have signed up for any of those expensive add-on  fru-fru services, Mr. President, I fear that The-Husband-Formerly-Known-as-Drip-Dry would quickly become the Former-Husbandly-Known-as-Drip-Dry!  (And hey . . . the way things are going around here the night before our big departure, he may destined for that moniker yet,  Mr. President . . . I think he may just become that yet. . .)

So please take care of my precious daughter this weekend, Mr. President, 'cause sometimes I'm convinced that she's the only one who really loves me around here.  You can call me anytime tomorrow from the bone booth.  Thanks to Drip Dry's newly enforced budgetary restrictions, I'll be staying in a flea-bag hotel somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania.

Oh . . and seeing that I might be of the single persuasion as early as next week, Mr. President, I would like to ask you another question:   Do you have wife?  'Cause if you don't I'm thinking that you might have enough money to let me - and my favorite daughter - live in the style to which we've previously become accustomed. . .

A Post in which I Give You Just the Facts Ma'am

So when I say from time to time that I feel like I'm just Spinning My Wheels, I know you assume I'm exaggerating.

Not so.

In an attempt to convince you, I'm going to relay today's story Sergeant Joe Friday style and give you Just the Facts, Ma'am.

Ready for the opening credits?

Dum, Dum, Dum, Dum. . . . 

The story you are about to hear is true; the names have been changed to protect the innocent.



Fact:   Trigger left for college with a fully functioning phone exactly one week ago today.


Fact:  The following day, The Husband Formerly Known as Drip Dry received a message from the Verizon wireless store in her University town wanting to know if he would authorize the purchase of a new phone because her old phone was suddenly irreparably broken.

Fact:  He did not reply.

Fact:  Hoping to save a little money, we boxed up Ponzi's old phone and prepared to send it to Trigger even though she had never contacted either of us directly to tell us that she no longer had a phone.

 Unfortunate Fact:  Although this was now her second year at the same university, I still didn't know her address (every time I needed it last year, I'd ask and Trigger would text it to me) and so on Monday morning I sent her an email telling her we knew her phone was broken and instructed her to give her father her address so he could send her the replacement phone instead of buying a brand new phone from the Verizon store.

Fact:  I skipped town on Monday afternoon.

Fact:   By Wednesday night her father and I both marveled at how she was managing to survive without her lifeline (and, yes, that little bit of information counts as a fact because Trigger is widely known to eat, sleep, and shower with her phone) because he still had not heard from her.


Fact:  She finally called home on Thursday morning to give Drip Dry her address and told him that she had discovered an old fashioned land-line phone in her dorm room and had been using that because someone told her that,  it was only like eight cents a call. 

Fact:  And so, on the cusp of the long holiday weekend, Drip Dry was now forced to spend $41 to overnight the phone to her . . . but - hey - it's still cheaper than buying a new phone. . . right?

Fact:   The next day I received a call from and unknown number.  It was a panicked Trigger, telling me that they had a hold on her school account and wouldn't let her change a class because we owed them $116.

Fact:   In phone charges.

Fact:  For the land-line phone in her room.

Fact:  The one she had been calling her boyfriend on all week long . . . for hours on end, mind you. . . . thinking that the charges were eight cents a call instead of EIGHT CENTS A MINUTE!

I guess some silly little co-ed didn't get her facts straight!

And now for the closing credits. .  .
Dumb! Dumb! Dumb! Dumb!!!!

What Ponzi Meant to Say

I admit right now that I made a fatal mistake.

For some reason, before Ponzi left for her two-week vacation in Italy, I was overly concerned with her personal safety and forgot to discuss one very important element of the trip with her.

Oh, we discussed things, alright. . . I taught her all about how to clutch her purse so that a band of pickpocketing thieves couldn't get their paws on her passport. . . and Veggie gave her lessons on how to deal with the throngs of lecherous men pinching her. . .  and Drip Dry went on boobie patrol, surveying her wardrobe looking for anything too low cut. . .and she had every element of her international phone plan down-pat. . . knowing who she could email. . . who she was allowed to call. . . and who she could BBIM. . . . .

So what was the fatal mistake?

I never gave her currency converting instructions.

Now, with a name like Ponzi, chances are that the child didn't need a tutorial on exchange rates (for rumor has it that she was born with a currency converter in place of her left kidney) but still. . . I neglected to have the very discussion which may have precluded an email (yes, I was on the email-only list) like this:  We're in the leather market right now and I found this amazing school bag for 55 and so I charged it.

The astute reader will notice three interesting things about these 21 words.  And, because I was born with a Ponzi converter in place of my left kidney, I will gladly parse the one-sentence correspondence for you:

1. School - No doubt about it. . . the addition of the word, school, as an adjective in front of the item, bag, translates to. . . You're paying for it, Mom!  Since we all know that Ponzi is going off to college in just four short weeks, and we also know that mothers traditionally pay for all items associated with school. . .  like crayons. . . pencil cases. . . and notebooks. . .  it therefore follows that this new bag is an all-essential-back-to-school item and now falls into the category of school supplies which will be paid for by the mother.
2. 55 - Notice, if you will, the intentional vagueness of the number. The currency of the "55" was not specified.  So did the bag cost 55 u.s. dollars? Or did it cost 55 euros, which equates to 72 u.s. dollars???? You're right, my friends, I don't even have to ask. .  .
3. Charged - Here, the clever detective need only note the past tense. The choice of the past tense means that the great Italian bag has been acquistati on her mother's carta di credito and that, my friends, means it's finito. . .conclusivo. . . decisivo.

So the newly-worked communication - sent through the Ponzi converter - would come out sounding something like this. . .  I'm in the leather market in Florence now while on that awesome vacation that you and Dad scrimped and saved to send me on and I found this wonderful bag that would be great for school and so I splurged and spent an additional $72 of your hard-earned money on it without asking.   And don't even think about suggesting that I return it, 'cause I don't have the slightest idea of how to speak the language here in this foreign country where all of the gross old men are pinching me!!!!

 

Oh. .  .and she would have added a post-script that went something like this:  And when I get home on Thursday, the rest of the back-to-school shopping will commence in earnest.

Be Still, My Heart

I can tell you that right now that A Mom on Spin's heart is racing faster than a Euro flying out of a Roman ATM machine.

You see, Ponzi and my credit card leave for two weeks in Italy tomorrow (and - quite frankly - I don't know which one I worry about more. . . )

Now just let me state for the record that my parental anxiety was not quelled one bit when I discovered today that I only have two Xanax left in that bottle the doctor prescribed for me three years ago.  And if I have been able to hold onto that same bottle for all of that time, doesn't  it make sense that I could pick up the nearest phone and place an S.O.S. for an emergency refill?   But apparently you can't just request a refill for happy pills.  No, it seems that the well-meaning physician  who took the Hippocratic Oath to Do No Harm needs to see for himself that I am once-again a psychotic lunatic needing sedation.

I ask you. . . Doesn't that man read my blog???  Why can't I just tell him that Ponzi and my credit card are leaving tomorrow to spend two weeks in Italy???

Would that not suffice????

And although Ponzi will be traveling with a very generous friend . . .and the only thing that I agreed to pay for on this trip were her passport. . . and her airfare. . .and international Blackberry service. . .and a pre-flight-mani-pedi. . .  and some "farewell" frappa-mocha-chinos at Starbucks . . doesn't he know that there's a little matter of spending money that is still quite ill-defined between us???

And what about knowing his patient?  Doesn't that doctor know that Ponzi is only eighteen. . . and a knockout. . .and splits her days between the gym and the tanning salon??? Doesn't he know that Italian men are known for their aggressiveness towards beautiful women?  Doesn't he further know that the drinking age in Italy is like almost non-existent???

And, although I can tell him that, upon Drip Dry's request,  Veggie shared each one of her  fifty ways to lose a slimeball  techniques acquired during her semester in Florence just three short years ago (a.k.a. my virtual vacation) doesn't that doctor know that all young women think they know how to handle themselves with the opposite sex in a foreign country . .  .when they really don't???

And - as long as I'm on a roll here - do I have to remind the aforementioned physician that all of those gods and goddesses he swore The Oath to were Greek? And Ponzi's not even going to Greece! She's going to Italy where life is a whole lot more "civilized" you might say!  Alright, maybe Apollo straddled the fence, but Asclepius and Hygieia. . and those others. .  . well I believe those gods would be so focused on the young girls traveling in Athens, that they wouldn't even guess that Ponzi's mother had been slipped a Xanax or two on the side.  And what's with this Do No Harm thing anyhow?  I ask you. . . Would it do any harm to quell my racing heart long enough to say a proper goodbye to Ponzi????

 I say . . . Show me a physician with a teenage daughter about to step foot on Italian soil for the first time, and I guarantee you that prescription would be flying off his pad  faster than you could put a fig leaf on the the statue of David!

For then - and only then - will my heart be still . . .

Yeah. . .  that's it. . . 

The Bank of No Returns

We all know that it isn't every day that an answer to your prayers drops right in your lap.  (Cause if it were, well then I'd be skinny. . . and childless. . . and married to. . . well married to somebody ultra-rich, I can't exactly think of who right now. . . and a Mega Millions winner to boot.)

But today, my friends, was different.

For today I ended my daughters' long-time relationship with overdraft charges.  And I did nothing to make it happen.  Just a few garbled prayers this morning (mixed in with some choice left-over swear words from my re-entry problem) and before you know it, my phone was ringing!

Me:  Hello?


Customer Service Guy:  Hello?  Mrs. Spin?  This is a customer service guy from your local bank. . . you know. . . the bank who lets your daughters purchase outrageous $6 choka-broka-mocha-lattes with their debit cards when they don't have the money in their accounts to pay for them and then hits you with a whopping $36 overdraft fee when they do???  You know. . . that bank???

Me:  Are you calling here because you spoke with my daughter earlier today?


Customer Service Guy:  No, I'm calling to see if you know about the new banking regulations that will take effect on August 15 regarding overdraft coverage for your debit cards.  You see. . . up to this point, the bank could - at it's own discretion - opt to cover any overdrafts our customers may have inadvertently made with their debit cards. . . kind of like a convenience thing. . . so that the transaction didn't get denied.

Me:  Oh yes!  I know all about how the bank would repeatedly let my daughters buy things which they didn't have money for and then "conveniently" charge them (a.k.a. me) $36 for the favor. 

Customer Service Guy:  Well I'm calling today because now if you want that coverage to continue you now have to "opt in".

Me:  Continue?  Who on earth would want that absurdity to continue?


Customer Service Guy:  Well, it would spare the purchaser the embarrassment they might feel if the transaction got denied.

Me:  Believe me, young man, a little embarrassment would be far preferable to the wrath of Drip Dry.


Customer Service Guy:  But let me explain the benefits of "opting in". . .

Me:  Listen, I don't mean to cut you off, but let me ask you to take a look at my daughters' accounts with me for just one moment.  Once you do, you'll see why there is no "opting" of any kind under discussion here.


Customer Service Guy (looking at accounts):  Oh . . .I see that you've recently had a little trouble with overdrafts.

Me:  Little???  Do you call getting hit with eight overdraft charges to the tune of $288 in two days a "little" trouble?  Sure, Veggie already told me that you refunded half of the charges earlier today when she called pretending to be her overdrawing sister ('cause she's the only one who has enough chutzpah to challenge you. . . and plus. . . she's had plenty of experience with these kinds of things). . .  but we're still talking about $144 charges in two days!


Customer Service Guy:  Well, actually, Mam. . .  another charge hit this afternoon. . . .

Me:  But I transferred money into that account first thing this morning when I discovered it was overdrawn!


Customer Service Guy:  I'm afraid it was too late.  Do you see the $7 in sushi she purchased the other night? Well that transaction was already processed when you moved that $400 into the account.  It was too late to stop the charge.  They're automatic, you know.


Me:  Yes, you don't need to tell me that.  What you do need to tell me is how I will never automatically pay these charges again!

Customer Service Guy:  Well, you have to tell me if you want to "opt in" or "opt out".

Me:  My head is spinning so fast that I can't remember which is which!    I want to do the thing that will ensure that I never have to pay a lousy overdraft charge again.  If that means opting "in" I'm "in", but if that means opting "out" I'm "out"! And you can just forget the embarrassment factor . . . I fully expect my daughters to be embarrassed when they attempt to buy things they don't have the money to pay for!  I'm sick of this stuff! I am not giving these girls another dime!  Can you hear me now?  I'm finished!


Customer Service Guy:  Okay Mrs. Spin, you're all set.  I have opted you "out" of overdraft coverage on all of your debit cards as you were speaking.  Is there anything else I can help you with today?

Me:  Yes, there is one other small thing.   I was planning on calling you tomorrow anyway. . . my third daughter is flying to Italy next week and she'll be taking my debit card with her.  Do I have to alert you to the fact that there may be international withdrawals on the account?  You know. . . so they don't get denied????

The Bank of She-Who-Is-Most-Broke

So Trigger's wallet, phone, debit card, and student I.D. were found the day after she called to tell me she lost them. . .  They were at a different Frat house, Mom!  I swear! I don't know how they got there! 

And once she had them back in her possession, she promptly proceeded to overdraw her checking account once again. . .

____________________


She-Who-Works-Hard-for-the-Wampum:  Trig!  Stop overdrawing your bank account!  I just checked it again and you were overdrawn by $1.57.


She-Who-Is-Most-Broke:  I didn't!  I took exactly the right amount of money out!  I had $26 dollars in there to start with and I withdrew $20 from the machine and I even counted in the $2 withdrawal fee that the bank charged me and then I got like a $4 latte at Starbucks.


She-Who-Works-Hard-for-the-Wampum:  But did you check your balance before you did?


She-Who-Is-Most-Broke:  What?


She-Who-Works-Hard-for-the-Wampum:  Did you check your balance. . . like at the machine. . .  before you withdrew that $20?


She-Who-Is-Most-Broke:  I guess so. . .  that's how I knew how much money I could withdraw.  Why?


She-Who-Works-Hard-for-the-Wampum:  Well, I see here that the bank also charged you a $2 balance inquiry fee at the close of the business day, which left you overdrawn by $1.57!  So that's it!  You have no money!  You are flat broke and will remain so until you come home for your Christmas break this Friday and start babysitting.

She-Who-Is-Most-Broke:  No, I'm not broke, Mom!


She-Who-Works-Hard-for-the-Wampum:  Yes you are broke, Trigger!

She-Who-Is-Most-Broke:  No I'm not!  I found out that I can sell my books back after exams. . . and then I'll have like a hundred bucks and I'll have all the money I need to buy Christmas presents!


She-Who-Works-Hard-for-the-Wampum:  Aren't they the very same books that I paid $750 for at the start of the semester?  I better get one heck of a Christmas present from you, young lady. . . .

Houston, We Have a Problem. . . of the coat kind . . .

If there's one thing I try to teach my daughters, it's how to be a good listener.

Take note of the following two problems which cropped up this past weekend and my astute attempt to zero in on what really matters.

_____________________________

Ponzi:  Mom, I think we have a bit of a problem. . .

Me:  A problem?  What is it?


Ponzi:  Well I went to that concert on Friday night. . . and I had my coat with me. . .you know. . . my black Northface. . .  and they made me check it. . .  like to prove I didn't have any booze with me or anything like that .  .and I gave Kathy my coat check ticket and she lost it. . .  just like she did last week. . .and I had to wait until the firemen said it was alright to come back in . . . you know. .  .after the fire alarm that we all thought was part of the show. . .  and they made me wait 'til everyone else claimed their coats. . .  and someone had taken my coat and it had your $30 in it and my train ticket home. . . and my school I.D. and perhaps my driver's license. . . I'm not really sure about that one. . .  but somebody else left their black Northface and I took that one instead . . . and the good news is that . . . remember how you made me buy a child's XL 'cause the ladies' "small" was like fifty bucks more???. . . well. . .  this coat is a ladies's "small". .  .so I think we made out on the deal!

Me:  Oh my God, Ponzi! You brought an unknown coat home from New York City?  You better put in in the washer right away! You never know where a coat like that has been!


Which was quickly followed by this phone conversation on Sunday afternoon. . .

Trigger:   Mom!  We have a problem!

Me:  We do???  What is it?


Trigger:   Well you see . . .  Last night I was at a Frat party. . . you know . . . and I had my coat. . . my black Northface. . . cause I told you we practically had like a blizzard. . .  well I left my coat in Kimmie's bedroom and when I went back to get it at the end of the night it wasn't there.


Me:  Tell me. . .  what size was that coat?  Was it a child's XL????


Trigger:  Mom!  Did you hear me?  Do you know what was in my coat?  My wallet!   My ATM card!! My student I.D.!!!   My PHONE!!!!

Me:  Were there any firefighters there?

Trigger:  Do you not even care?   This is serious!  Do you even know what this means?

Me:  What does this mean?

Trigger:  I don't have any money!  I can't talk to anyone!   I can't eat!  Aren't you worried that someone is using my ATM card???

Me:   What?  And withdrawing the grand total of $25 you begged me to put in your account yesterday?  I'll just transfer it back to my account.

Trigger:  But they could overdraw!

Me: Oh yes!  I vaguely remember your sister doing that just last week. . .  I tell you what. . .  go steal someone else's Northface, get yourself a new student I.D., and eat in the dining hall until you come home for Christmas break.

Me (again):  And Trig?

Trigger:  Yes?

Me:  Make sure your new coat is a ladies' "small" and don't forget to you wash it right away.  You never know where a coat like that has been. .  . but check the pockets first. . .  there may be something good in there. .  .

The Story of She-Who-Works-Hard-For-The-Wampum

Only. . . and I mean O-N-L-Y. . .  in A Mom on Spin's tee-pee could the following happen over the Thanksgiving weekend:

_____________________

After preparing (okay, serving . . .I may not have actually prepared all of it. . . ) the grand Thanksgiving feast, the overworked, overtired, and over-all over-spun mother of three daughters finds it necessary to report to work on the day after Thanksgiving in order to attend to a ill-timed funeral (for aren't the old folks supposed to die after the holidays, not before????) and to complete a project the likes of which will no-doubt be seen one day on To Catch a Predator.  And - since all three of her daughters are flat-broke at the present time - this mother offers to pay a salary to her college-aged daughter (a.k.a. She-Who-Is-Most-Broke) to come in and help her.

But - alas - when push comes to shove the next morning, She-Who-Is-Most-Broke cannot rouse herself out of bed on time (tell me.. . . are we still wondering why she's having a wee-bit of attendance trouble with her 8:00 a.m class????) and the wild war-cries of her mother. . . . offering the salary to anyone within earshot . . .are then broadcast loudly throughout the tee-pee.

And so it was that a younger, more-industrious-and-you-might-say-sometimes-scheming-daughter (who also happens to be without income. . . ) heard her mother's plea and, although she was dressed to go to a spin class at the local gym (I know, ironic. . . isn't it???) agrees to report to work with her mother.

It is now abundantly clear that She-Who-Is-Industrious has found favor in her mother's eye, and after a most-productive day, mother and daughter return home.

The mother and Chief-Who-Dries-By-Dripping then proceed to travel to a nearby tribal family's wigwam to drink the peace-wine and eat the newly-killed-pizza.

While She-Who-Is-Industrious quickly discovers that she - too - wants to go to a pow wow, but is in need of a quick infusion of wampum to fund her "activities".


But then - while in the midst of stealing the right regalia to wear for the night - She-Who-Is-Industrious-But-Sometimes-Duplicitous then spies a debit card on She-Who-Is-Most-Broke's bedroom floor.

And because it looks exactly like She-Who-Is-An-Unsuspecting-Mom-on-Spin's debit card, She-Who-Is-Now-Totally-Duplicitous takes it . . .rationalizing that if her sister had possession of Mom's card, then no one could possibly blame her for a  little withdrawal while in the sister's supposed possession. . . .and after-all. . . her mother is going to pay her for her day's work. . . and she'll just view this as a little advance. . .

And She-Who-Is-No-Longer-Industrious-but-Solely-Duplicitous withdraws a grand total of $10 from what she thinks is her mother's account.

But, alas, it turns out the card Ponzi (I mean . . .She-Who-Was-At-One-Time-Viewed-As-Industrious-and-In-Favor )  lifted belonged to She-Who-Was-Most-Broke who, coincidentally, chose the same PIN number her mother had always employed (because we'd be well-within our rights to also refer to her as She-Who-Is-Most-Lazy. . . stay with me here. . . this stuff is important!!!!!!) and who, earlier that day, had used that very same card in a local diner and knowingly depleted the last of the savings from her summer job  -  leaving a grand total of three (that's right. . .  T-H-R-E-E!!!)  dollars in her account to get her through to next summer.

And, before you know it, the unsympathetic, unfeeling, and uncompromising bank had the nerve to levy a whopping $34 in overdraft fees on the unknowing, unwitting, and unsuspecting She-Who-Is-Now-More-Broke-Than-Ever's account - leaving her $41 in the negative.

And . . . when all of the above was discovered earlier today by She-Who-Works-Hard-For-the-Wampum (a.k.a. A Mom on Spin. . .)  let's just say that She-Who-Was-At-One-Time-Viewed-As-Industrious will - from this day forward - be known as She-Who-Is-Now-Forever-In-The-Doghouse. . .

And as to She-Who-Is-Most-Veggie. . .  . if you think she survived this weekend unscathed, let me just tell you that her new name is She-Who-Travels-Long-Distances-To-March-In-Silly-Peace-Rally-Instead-Of-Hunting-For-Job.

How?  You say.

Now that's a tribal legend to be told another day. . .

To Catch a Thief

One of my lovely daughters lifted $20 from my wallet on Saturday.

I'm quite certain of it.

For after I returned from a fundraising breakfast for a young mother with terminal cancer, a stint at work delivering Thanksgiving baskets to the homes of the area's poor, and attending my 27-year-old cousin's profoundly sad and troubling wake. . . .well, the only thing in life I was sure of was the fact that I had a total of $80 in my wallet.

And yet, later in the evening, when I pulled out my wallet to pay the take-out-delivery guy (What?  Don't tell me you would cook after a day like that????) there were clearly only three twenties in there.

And so I proceeded to launch an investigation - starting with the most-likely culprit first:

____________________

Me:   Ponzi, did you, by chance, take a twenty dollar bill from my wallet this afternoon?

Ponzi:  No, I asked you for five dollars.   Remember?  And you told me I couldn't take it and you told me to get a job.

Me:  Exactly. . .  .


Ponzi:  But I didn't, Mom!  Wouldn't that have been stupid of my to ask for five and take twenty instead?

Me:  But I only had twenties in my wallet.   And remember how you told me you couldn't apply for a job now. . . you know. . .  cause who would hire someone with a big black eye???

Ponzi:  I didn't take it, Mom!  I swear!  It must have been Trigger!

And so the scope of my investigation widened to another bedroom.

Me:  Trigger?   Did you, by chance, take $20 from my wallet this afternoon?

Trigger:  No Mom!  Why would I do a think like that?  You know I came home from college broke with no money left in my bank account!

Me:  Exactly. . .  .

Trigger:   So if I went and bought something you would have seen it and then you would have known that I didn't have the money for it and you probably would have thought that I stole the money from you and I don't care what you think but I'm not that stupid Mom!

Me:  Not if you used it on coffee. . . or tanning. . .  or makeup. . .  how would I notice a thing like that?  You were gone an awfully long time after you dropped Ponzi off at her friend's house.   For all I know, it could still be in your wallet.


Trigger:  Oh.  My.  God!!!  You can look in my wallet if you want to.  You already know I'm broke. . .

So there you have it, my friends.  The investigation is at a stand still.  I'm thinking of running fingerprint checks on both of them  (you know. . . like I do with all the unwitting church volunteers.) And the dog.  I'm considering having her paw-printed too while I'm at it . .  .

Alright.. .  I know you all have a theory as to where that $20 went.   So you might-as-well go ahead and say it here. . .

When you live in a den with liars and thieves, you can no longer afford to be proud.

Quite literally. . .

My Dog Is Fat , My Cat Threw Up, and the Cow Jumped over the Moon. . .

So after three canceled appointments, I finally took my pets to the much-dreaded vet yesterday.

Now last year, in a corporal act of mercy, Veggie took the cat to the vet for me.  But, despite my wise counsel Not to let the vet know that she's no longer an indoor cat because they'll be wanting to give her all sorts of extra tests and shots, Veggie found herself spilling the beans and returned home with a $300 vet bill and a rabies certificate that was good for only one year.

And so this year, subscribing to the theory that You should never send a mere child to do a Mom-on-Spin's work (combined with the fact that Veggie is currently out of the country) it quickly became evident that it was my turn to wrestle with that cat, stuff that little furball into the dog carrier against her will (yes, I said dog. . . .do you have a problem with that?) zipper her whiskers into the cramped designer-fru-fru-doggie space, and listen to her sad lament the whole way to the vet's.

But that's okay, because the dog was panting like . . . Hey!  She hasn't let my shedding body in this car in like forever!  We must be going some place really cool. .  .  

It was also my turn to get the the immunization sales pitch.

And to feel like a crazy cold-hearted animal-hater when I opted out.


Opted out of the feline leukemia test and vaccine, despite being warned of the dire consequences in doing so. . .  opted out of the one-year rabies shot and electing one with three-year effectiveness - even though it required me to sign a disclaimer . . . .  foregoing the kennel cough immunization when I have never once boarded my dog in her four years of human existence which translates to practically FOREVER in doggie years . . . and requesting a six-month supply of the heartworm tablets because I only remember to administer them about every-other-month anyway. . .  ( I did - however - offer to pay for extra distemper shots if they could be made available to teenage daughters and/or grumpy husbands. . . for some reason they wouldn't let me.  . . . )


And then, despite my best efforts, I was handed a $383 bill on my way out.

And the cat gladly hopped back into the very carrier that she had so vehemently despised just a half-hour earlier.

And the dog had a strange fixation with licking her butt.

And the cat threw up all over my living room couch the minute we got home.

And then I think - but I'm not certain - I saw the dish run away with the spoon. . . 

Oh.  . . and who knew that labs should have waistlines?  Come to think of it, so should middle-aged-women, but that doesn't mean I have one, now does it?

Another Reason to Never Let a Teenage Daughter Drive. . . as if you needed another one. . .

Driving home from work earlier today, I thought to myself. . .  Self . . .you have absolutely nothing to blog about. . .

But then I got the mail.

And I quickly called the toll free number that was prominently displayed on the letter I opened. . .

_______________________

Me:  I just got a notice in the mail and I'm hoping you can clarify something for me.

Debt Collector:  Well first - even though you phoned in, Mam - I'm obligated to tell you that the conversation we are about to have qualifies as an attempt to collect a debt.   Do you understand?

Me:  Of course I understand!  I'm calling you, aren't I???   It says here that my "account" with the NY State Thruway has been placed in collections and I owe them/you $88.50?

Debt Collector: Yes, Mam, that's correct.

Me:  But this is the first I've heard of this.   I didn't even know I had an "account". Can you enlighten me?

Debt Collector: Now, let's see. . .  the first violation was on October 2, 2008. . . and the second  . . .

Me:  What does that mean, violation?  Speeding?  Was I speeding?  I live in Jersey! I don't even drive on the Thruway!

Debt Collector:  Not speeding, Mam.   EZ Pass. The vehicle went through the EZ Pass lane without a device.

Me:  But I have EZ Pass.


Debt Collector:  Well, I have the license plate right here. . . YEX 24P. . .is that your car?

Me:   Oh. . . it's one of my daughters' cars. . .

Debt Collector:  Well did she have a device in her car?

Me:  An EZ Pass device?  Knowing her, probably not.  But I'm sure she had her cell phone. . . and her iPod. . . .and her Tom Tom. . . she never leaves home without them. . .

Debt Collector:  Well, that's nice, Mam, but as I said, the next violation was two days later.  Tappen Zee Bridge again.  And the third. . .

Me:  Never mind. I get the picture. . . .but why so much money?

Debt Collector:   It was $4.50 for the toll and a $25 penalty for each of the violations.

Me:  But why didn't I know about this?  Those so-called violations were a full year ago?  Did you send prior notification??  Was my daughter confiscating it in the mail or something?

Debt Collector:  Mam, I'm just the debt collector.  They don't give me that sort of information.

Me:  I understand.  I'm just their mother.  And they don't give me that sort of information either.  What will it take to pay you off?

Debt Collector:  I'm authorized to settle with you for 75% of the debt, Mam, with an $8 processing fee, so that comes to $75.

Me:  Do you take credit cards?

And, as any good Debt Collector would answer:  We sure do!

and in case you're wondering. . .  yes, I feel a tad-bit violated myself tonight. . .

Just When I Thought it Was Safe to Go Back in the Water. . .

She was bound to do it sometime.

Bust the honeymoon phase, that is. . .

You see, in a strange combination of irrational trust, unearned confidence, and good old-fashioned impulse shopping, I purchased a brand new Starbucks travel mug as a back-to-school gift for Ponzi. And - at the risk of significant danger to my own life and limb - I purchased some Starbucks Tassimo pods to go with it.

Because, my friends, I thought it was safe to go back to the Tassimo.

The very same Tassimo coffee maker that her sisters used with wild abandon and - consequently - had been declared off limits! by Mr. Drip Dry. And I, the shopper of the family, had been forbidden to refill the corresponding coffee supply until the two of us were both safely ensconced in nothing short of an assisted living facility and were assured that we could afford what would be our now-limited "lifetime" of pod purchasing. (You get it? That's a fancy/funny way of saying that those freaking pods are expensive and one of Ponzi's sisters - who shall remain nameless - had been drinking about five cups of espresso a day, leaving Drip Dry no recourse but to shut down the whole operation.)

Literally. No drips from the coffee maker . . .

Dry as a bone. . .

And, from that moment on, we were all expected to use the boring, outdated, outmoded, and outclassed, Mr. Coffee to brew our morning's lifejuice.

And, in what will go down in the no-good-deed-goes-unpunished-by-a-teenage-daughter annals, for the past two mornings Ponzi has had the ultimate gall to use not one - but TWO - of those Tassimo pods to fill her travel mug. Wait. I stand corrected! It's more like one-and-a-half to fill that cup. That's right! She makes two cups, pours one-and-a-half of them into her new mug, and then proceeds to commit the most egregious sin of waste by leaving the remaining half-cup behind - sending Mr. Drip Dry into a tailspin from which he may never recover!

Note this day, folks.

The day that the coffee maker. . . the pods. . . the mug. . . and A Mom on Spin. . . go into hibernation until retirement . . .

Do Unto Others. . . As They Have Done Unto You. . .

Wait! That's not how it goes? Well, if you missed Thursday's post about some unauthorized withdrawals from my bank account, you really should go here. It's extremely short. I promise you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So this is where Ponzi has been residing of late . . .




But this was Ponzi's latest place of employment . . .



What a coincidence . . . That's my place of employment too!



This was Ponzi's boss. . . mine too!


This is Ponzi's paycheck. . .


Hey. . . can I see that for a minute????



This is where Ponzi's paycheck will go . . .


My ATM Machine?



And this is what I will outsmart next time. . .

Gotcha!

So get ready folks. . . Monday will be State your Sins Day once again! I was able to cobble together a button for my sidebar (congratulations accepted. . .) and I'll have Mr. Linky up so you can account for your sins back on your own site (cause God knows I don't want to take the blame for them here. . . )

I'm outta here people! Got myself some sinning to do. . .

Ponzi's New Home. . .

This is Ponzi. . .
This is my A.T.M. card. . .

This is Ponzi's new home. . .

Get the picture???

Suggestions for sentencing are welcome. . .

Can You Hear Me Now???

Dear Mr. President of Verizon Wireless,

I love you.


Actually I think my husband loves you.


Or perhaps we're both in love with the customer service rep my husband spoke to on the phone yesterday . . . you know. . . the one who told him about your Family Freedom Plan, or some catchy name like that . . . (we don't care what you call it, as long as it makes me do cartwheels. . . ) with unlimited text messaging - no matter whether you're texting in or out of network. . . so each one of Trigger's 10,000 ( that's right I said ten thousand. . . ) monthly text messages will be covered under the plan?????


And that's not all. Do you know what else? (I'm guessing you're an educated man, Mr. President of Verizon Wireless, so I'm going to throw some latin phraseology in here, 'cause my daughters sometimes read my blog and there's something I don't want them to know. . .) Well, that lovely customer service rep actually agreed to ack-bate-day the activation of our freedom plan and everse-ray the latest $400 in exting-tay arges-chay!!!!!Don't you see why we love her?

And you too. We love you too!


And the guy on the commercial? You know, the one who looks a little nerdy and says Can you hear me now? Yeah, well we're his biggest fans now. And the ten thousand people standing behind him who represent The Network? We just adore them! Especially the guys swinging from the phone poles. As a matter of fact, we love them all so much we're going to send each and every one of them a text message to personally thank them for being a Verizon wireless employee. And we won't get charged a penny. . . even . . . if for some strange reason your employees choose another service provider!

~~~~~~~~~

And if you're looking for more witty and entertaining correspondence, go on over to Kat's bungalow and see what others are writing about.

Oh wait! It has just come to my attention that I have to add another little piece of correspondence to my husband. . .

~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Mr. Drip (Dry)

Was it not just this morning that we agreed that Ponzi was not going to get a new phone unless and until she had the cash in hand to pay for it???

Hello????

How was it that you fell prey to her promissory schemes once again? Don't you know that - even if we garnished that child's imaginary wages from now until the day she dies - she will never repay all of the money she owes us????

Why not? you ask. . . because. . . as we both know. . . she has no job!!!!

I am hereby removing you as an authorized decision maker on our new Verizon Family Freedom plan. Let's face it. . . . Veggie's going to have to be the brains of the family from now on!

Signed, your lovely wife . . . .

Look! A Mom on Spin in New Verizon Commercial. . . Take One

New Commercial for Verizon Wireless . . . shot in suburban New Jersey Verizon store.

Take One!

Verizon Rep: Mrs. Mom on Spin? You're next. How can I help you?

Frazzled Middle-Aged Woman: I desperately need your help to decipher my cell phone bill. Months ago I opted for an on-line bill and so I no longer get a paper bill and I kinda open it only when I go to pay it ('cause, believe me if I had known about this, I would never have let something as important as this lapse) but my husband has all of the passwords and he's away right now and I really need to get to the bottom of this problem.

Verizon Rep: And what problem would that be?

Frazzled: Well I gave my phone number to that woman when I checked in and you must have my account open so you must see what the problem is. .

Rep: Well are you Veggie?

Frazzled: No, I'm not Veggie.

Rep: And clearly you're not Mr. Drip Dry . . . is that correct?

Frazzled: Yes, you are correct on that one.

Rep: Well only Veggie and Drip have authorization to talk to me about the account. I can't tell you anything.

Frazzled: Well Mr. Drip Dry is away right now and Veggie's my oldest daughter and might very well be the culprit. . . so I desperately need your help! Would it help if I told you that I recently paid a $430 cell phone bill??? And the on-line banking bill is now telling me that I owe you $950 dollars right now! Could you please just reassure me that my payment got applied and I only owe you $520 for last month's bill???? Could you at least do that for me???

Rep: Well, yes, I can confirm that you now owe Verizon Wireless $516.

Frazzled: (breathing a sigh of relief that she only owes $516. . . ) And can't you just peek at that bill for me and tell me which one of my three daughters I need to kill right now? It's very important that I get the right one. . .

Rep: Okay, let me look. . .

Frazzled: Oh, Thank you! Thank you!!!!!!

Rep: Now it looks like it could be this number that has the problem . . . 973-867-5309. . .

Frazzled: TRIGGER! Damn! I knew it! How did that bill get so high? What did she do? Was it texting? Downloads? Navigation system? What????

Rep: It looks like it was texting. . . let's see. . .

Frazzled: But doesn't she have unlimited text messaging?

Rep: The unlimited part is for in-network texts. She only has 1,500 out-of-network texts for free.

Frazzled: Holy God above! How many out-of-network texts did that child send in one month?

Rep: 6,000.

Frazzled: WHAT???

Rep: Well, actually it was 5,948 out-of-network text messages. . . and only 1,500 of them were free and so over 4,000 of them were billable. . .

Frazzled: (now clearly in an altered mental state. . . ) Well, do you offer a plan that has unlimited out-of-network texts so we can stop this from going any further????

Rep: No, I'm sorry. The plan with the most out-of-network texts only covers 4,000 per month, so she'd still have to cut back on her texting habits.

Frazzled: (regaining a small bit of sanity) Well, can I cut off her texting option from her phone right here and now?

Rep: I'm sorry, only Veggie or Drip Dry can do that. You're not authorized on the account.

Frazzled: Oh. . . right. . . Veggie. . . and Drip. . . one of them will get back to you on that. . .

enter. . .

Ponzi: (breathless with excitement. . . ) Mom! I figured out which phone I want! The guy over there told me I'm due for an upgrade and I have a $50 credit so the new Blackberry would only be like $53 and then $15 a month after that. . .


Frazzled: Oh, this is my third daughter, Ponzi, she's not the one who. . . well. . . you know. . .


Rep: Yes, I see. . . but you're still not authorized. . .


Frazzled: Believe me . . . I understand! (now clearly trying to uphold the last shred of dignity she once had while whisking Ponzi away. . . ) Ponzi, we are not getting that phone right now! Do you understand? Are you insane?


Ponzi: But why can't she call Dad? It's not fair to punish me for something that's Trigger's fault! You do that all the time, Mom. . . get mad at me for something Trigger's done!


Frazzled: We're just not doing it now!


Ponzi: But why not????? Why not? Mom! I said. . . why not????

scene fades to black. . . and. . . Cut!!!

The Post-Prom Ponzi Shakedown

7:30 a.m. Saturday morning. . .

Ponzi: Mom, wake up! Where did Dad go so early this morning?

Me: Golfing. Where else?

Ponzi: Oh. . . well how much money do you have?

Me: Why do you need money?

Ponzi: Well, remember how we're going to the shore today. . . just for the day. . . because you wouldn't let me go after Prom and sleep there like everyone else. . . and Susie's dad is driving us down today. . . well. . . um. . . . we just found out we need money to get on the beach.

Me: Don't you have any money left from the other day when you got your hair done for Prom? I gave you a hundred dollars.

Ponzi: Well the hairdo was $85 and I gave her a $15 tip.

Me: A hundred dollars on your hair? How much are you asking for now? Ten dollars?

Ponzi: No. . . not exactly. . . because. . . well . . . just found out about this. . . but because you wouldn't let me stay at the hotel with the seniors. . . well. . . um . . . there's this fee for using the hotel's beach. . . you know. . . because you're a guest. . . of a guest. . . I'm sure it would have been cheaper to have just paid for the hotel room. . . but anyway. . . they give you this bracelet thing. . . and Tammy was there yesterday. . . and she's going back today. . . and she's bringing markers and construction paper. . . so we're probably not going to end up paying the fee at all . . . cause. . . you know. . . we're going to make our own. . . Tammy and Susie say it's easy. . . but I better have the money with me just in case I need it.

Me: How much is it?

Ponzi: $67. For the day pass. It's more if we stay past six o'clock.

Me: $67 just to go to the beach for a day??? It's not worth it. You can keep driving down the parkway to Exit 25. I bought four season passes for $15 each. They're at the house. I'll give you the keys.

Ponzi: But this is with all the senior guys from Prom! Please! Please! Please, Mom!!!! I'll give you the first paycheck of the summer when I get it. . .

Me: But you don't have a summer job.

Ponzi: I know. . . . but when I get one. . . and when I get my first paycheck. . . I'll give it all to you!

A Love Handle Lapachino

The other morning I entered Ponzi's room in search of my ever-elusive box of Q-Tips and guess what I found. . .




This.


Bliss. . . love-handler!



And - thinking it was some sort of slimy and perverted sex product that my seventeen-year-old daughter had no business owning or knowing about- I picked up the bottle and read:

liquid workout for lazy abdominals

with caffeine and lipid-release boosters.

and because my not-too-far-from-fifty-year-old eyes couldn't read the rest of the small print on the lovehandler bottle, I googled it:

Want to whittle your wiggly waist, tone tummy pudge and keep back fat at bay? Wage war on those not-so-hard 'core' areas with this genius gel, formulated for extended 8-hour caffeine release. With cooling mint oil and naturally-derived amino acid ingredients.

Okay.

Now the question you've all been waiting for. . .

What the hell do these girls do with the stuff? Do they sniff it? Apply it? Ingest it? (I'm not kidding here people! You give my daughters any product that boasts of caffeine, and they'll be asking for an extra shot and putting a straw in it. . . )  Do I not hand over enough of my paycheck at Starbucks already that my daughter (a.k.a.. . . me!) now has to spend $36 on caffeine for her non-existent back fat?????? Cause . . . you know . . . it came from me. Even if she never specifically asked for $36 to purchase a Love-Handle Lapachino, I paid for that bottle in some way, shape, or form. . .

Plus, there's the obvious. . .

Now, I don't know about you, but when I think of love handles, my mind wanders to images like this:


not this. . .

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!

What will they think of next for my daughters to go out and spend my hard-earned money on? A champagne pedicure? A vodka facial???? Some Sushi tanning oil???

You tell me. . . cause I've given up. . .