I did. She had me at Bumblebee*.

That little trip to the auto show turned into a big trip to Dallas about a month later. Well, Grapevine, if you’re going to be persnickety about it.

We don’t know anything about Texas. We’d never set foot anywhere south of Amarillo before we moved here, and we only went to Amarillo to pick up my ex boyfriend who’d decided to drink himself to death in a sketchy road-side hotel room. Fortunately for him, the hotel owner had other plans. Those plans included not having rotten, southern, drunken rock star corpses ruining his good mattresses. ‘Good’ being a very generous term in this case.

By the way, you know your husband loves you when he is willing to drive 12 hours straight to go get your ex boyfriend, then turn right back around and drive 12 more straight hours to get him home. You also know your ex boyfriend is an absolute dick-wad when he never, ever speaks to either of you again. Ever. Not even 7 years later. Not even though he’s totally your friend on Facebook.

Anyway, Donna asked us if we’d like to take a Chevy and drive the 5 hours up to Grapevine to play at Great Wolf Lodge for a weekend. We did. She had me at roadtrip.

We didn’t actually get a “Chevy”, because they’d invited several other bloggers and gave them all the Chevy’s, so poor us got stuck with a Buick Enclave. I know, I know; I don’t know how I survived, either.

We packed the kids up at set off to see this “Texas” place we’d heard so much about. You know what? TEXAS IS BEAUTIFUL. Maybe they’re not too big on putting pesky ‘facts’ in school-books, and maybe there is an Un-american lack of decent Indian food, but good lordy, it’s like candy for your eyeballs.

Well, I thought it was beautiful. My kids were plugged into the Matrix Buick. I’m not even sure they’d realized we weren’t in our house. Oh, wait, they had to have noticed. They could see the floors in the car.

We got to Great Wolf Lodge about noon on a Saturday, and it did not look like this:

You know when you’re in your yard or out taking a walk and you suddenly realize that it’s not a bump you’ve stepped on, it’s a fire ant mount, and in less than half a second, you have creepy little red things climbing all over you and you can’t shake your legs fast enough to get them off and you’re pretty sure you’re about to die a slow, painful death at the hands of pint-sized mercenaries? It was exactly like that.

But in the awesome way. The boys took on the big waterslides and I took the girl to the kiddie pool, where she learned the hard way that no matter how cute you are, I will not, in fact, let you squirt the babies in the eyes with water guns.

{Before, and after. Oh how fickle the heart of a four heart old.}

We played so hard, for so long, that we were all passed out dead asleep by 9:30. That’s, like, 8 hours before my husband’s bedtime. We staying in the Kid Kamp Suite, which was totally cool except we had three kids, and it sleeps two, so there was an Epic Battle to the Death for bed space. We had plenty of room for a kid on the grown up side of the room, but the grown up side didn’t have anything you could climb up and get stuck on, and did did have grown ups. Ewww, parents.

The next day, we sent to boys off to get their geek on while we took the girl to Vegas. You think I’m kidding.

I would tell you how much money my husband dumped into slots at the arcade, but I’m only on, like, the 2nd phase of grief over it, and I just don’t want to acknowledge what happened to my wallet that day. Sufficed to say, a good time was had. By all. Especially the house.

Our boys grabbed Jess’ son and they went out with some hard, wand-hitting Magi’s to go to work on the treasure chests in that lodge.

The game is called MagiQuest, and it is loosely defined as, ‘You pay something close to $75 for 3 wands, but what you’re really paying for is 4 hours of peace and quiet, because it will p0wn your kids.’ We didn’t see them again until they’d completed every level of the MagiQuest, which takes them up and down 8 levels of staircases in the hotel, which is so not something I’m even brave enough to think about doing with them.

My love, she has limits.

I decided to take my daughter for a pedicure instead. Because I like to instill really expensive obsessions in my children during their tender years, that’s why. Also because the spa is a parent-free zone, so hello 30 minutes totally alone. Which I totally spent outside the door of the spa. Because I’m an idiot.

And then we drove home, and I didn’t have to kill my husband even once. Mostly because of the Marriage Saver feature that comes standard on all Buicks. Except the one Tiger drove. Bygones.

And my kids didn’t have to maim each other, not even once. Mostly because of they didn’t have to acknowledge the other ones existed the whole way home. Which, really, just takes the sport out of the whole ‘Family Roadtrip’ thing. I swear…modern technology is denying our children their childhood.

Angst.

That’s not an adaptor. That is the normal old wall plug, right in the console of the car. This? Changed my life.

So, my less-than ten point summary is this:

• It was really fun.
• The buffet restaurant is better than the sit-down restaurant.
• Stay overnight if you can.
• Bring cash if you do.
• Do NOT test out a new feminine hygiene product on your trip.
• The car was wicked awesome.
• If you tell your husband that driving a car is like fucking the highway, he’s going to look at you a little differently for the rest of your life.
• It’s totally worth it.
• So long as you stay on top.

*I made my family stand in line on opening day for the Transformers movie, and then I wept at its awesomeness. And that is not a theological statement.

I used to be very crafty, way back in the 1900′s, but kids and jobs and spouses kind of sucked all my time away. I’m almost not at all ashamed to admit that I am enjoying my born-again craftiness. Yesterday, I learned to sew. SEW, people.

I am very ashamed, however, to admit that I’ve waited almost 365 full days to review this book.

Paper Crafts Gourmet (by Paper Craft Magazine) showed up on my doorstep about this time last year, and in the hubbub of Christmas with three kids, it got shelved. And then I couldn’t remember who sent it to me. (Still can’t.) This year, I’m trying to be a less sucktastic, and a little more artsy, and that’s where this book review comes in.

I love to cook, and I’m trying to be more creative, and here’s a cookbook with simple recipes AND the recipes for a craft to go with each one. Step by step instructions on how to make EVERYTHING…food, notecards, gift jars, whatever. It’s insane. And I’m almost not totally ashamed to admit that my little suburban heart skips a beat every time I flip through it.

There’s pretty much one recipe & craft for every season, including American Idol season, so there’s something to do all the time. Most of it seems easy enough that with some patience and the right tools, I could do these with my older boys.

Some of it is admittedly a little more kitchy than I am capable of getting, but some of it has insanely useful application in my everyday, my-kid-has-7-teachers-and-it’s-Christmas-time life.  Some of it has practical application in my I’m-too-cool-to-carry-a-lunchbag-to-school-mawm life. And some of it makes my holiday-spirit-life kind of explode.

{If you click them, they get bigger}

I love it. There, I said it. I love this damn book and everything it stands for that I swore I never would. I love it the way I love that minivan I’m trying to talk my husband into buying, the way I love the wire reindeer in my front lawn and my candy-cane walkway lights. I love it the way I love the cotton-ball Christmas trees I made with my kids last week.

I love it the way I love this new person I was stolen and replaced with one night.

I am not taking my nose ring out, however. I’m not that done being an angsty 20-something just yet.

{Since I blow so much at getting reviews done on time, I’m going to try to buy my way out of this one by sending three of these out as Christmas gifts from me, to you. Leave a comment to enter, maybe tell me your most atrocious crafting fail? and we’ll draw three names next week.}

I hear it makes the poofiness under one’s eyes disappear faster than Rod Blagojevich’s career goals but there are things in life I am willing to do, and things in life I am not willing to do, and that’s just the way things are. There are precious few items in the “won’t be doing this lifetime” column, but I can without hesitation also add “rubbing monostat all over my face” to it, no matter how gorgeous Renee looks and no matter how much she blames girly-bit* cream for it.

Maybe she’s born with it; maybe it’s Monostat. I’ll take the former, and my $35/gram Makeup 4 Ever primer in green, thank you very much.

I do have a penchant for using one thing to do one other thing it’s fully not intended for. Like, I clean my walls with hairspray. I mop my floors with powered Tide and bleach, my super secret acne spot treater is Close Up toothpaste and a bandaid. If that doesn’t work, I bust out the big guns: Aspirin ground up in a spoon all heroin-style made into a paste. And a bandaid. Bandaids can do anything.

I use chalk to keep ants out, I brush my teeth with straight baking soda and gargle with straight peroxide. I wash my blacks in vinegar and use Mr Clean to get out set stains in my clothes. I have put steeped tea bags on both nipples and, well, you know where else. In public. Childbirth robs you of nothing at all except any sense of dignity. I once used a toothbrush to (redacted). I used a pair of panties I was too lazy to take off as a barrier method of birth control, with amazing results.

See: Childbirth. Also, tea bags.

I am fully of the opinion that if you can’t find at least two uses for any one thing, it’s not worth your time or money. Because I’m a cheap bitch, that’s why. I typically use the vitamin E oil I keep lying around for burns and scars on my face for wrinkle control, and it totally works and cost $5,000 less that the actual “wrinkle cream” they try get Penelope Cruz to sell you on tv, and lasts 18 times longer, but it doesn’t do jack shit for the poofiness. Which I have. Partly because I have a Sagittarius rising and partly because ohmygod I haven’t been untired in 11 years, 4 months and 1 day.

That one I blame on a diaphragm and a complete and utter lack of understanding about the female anatomy. Which I blame on Judeao-Christian cults. Another story, another day.

Origins sent me this new eye de-poofier and de-duller stuff called GinZing** to try out, so I did, and you know what? I actually think it just might work. It feels all tingly when I put it on, and I don’t seem to be so poofy, and I only look like a got a good heat-butt to the nose instead of my normal baseball bat to the eye look I usually sport. But what do I know? I use duct tape to make my kids sit still and shut up so I can paint all the furniture lavender in one afternoon.

Oh, wait. That was my mother. Worse than ‘Nam, those flashbacks.

Anyway, I’ve got 15 samples to send out so you can tell me if you think it works. Want one? (You know you do. The stuff doesn’t even come out for another month.) Tell me something you use in place of something else, something you probably shouldn’t. And for the record, if you tell me you use alpaca spit as a sexual lubricant, I’m going to ask you to produce a prescription for antibiotics. Also, a handmade scarf. It’s cold in Canada.

*I will never, ever be able to think, say or hear “girly bits” again for the rest of my life and not go here with it. Bugones.

**The official press release goes a little something like this: GinZing™ Refreshing eye cream to brighten and depuff offers a natural wake-up call for visibly tired eyes.  An ideal product for use in times of increased mental and physical stress, when the eye area is prone to appear puffy and tired, it also addresses everyday fatigue symptoms with ingredients that increase cellular energy, fortify skin and even skin tone so that eyes appear vibrant and glowing with health.  It can be applied first thing in the morning or throughout the day when you’re in need of a quick pick-me-up.

And you thank thank/bitchslap Randomizer.org for naming these 15 bloggers the recipients of some lovely eye cream:

Janet
Overflowing Brain
Tadpole Drain
Veronica
MN (really, dude, you SO need a blog. I think you’ve put it off long enough.)
Kori
Midlife Mama
Amo
ZDub
Cori
Alison of a Gun
Lorna
Erica Mueller (who is also without blog)
Jenn (and NEITHER does Jenn, and there are 18 million Jenn’s but she’s the first baby wipes comment.)
Kim Prince

GIVE ME YOUR ADDRESSES!

I did a bunch of research on tattoo shops near the BlogHer 09 conference and found The Tattoo Factory in Uptown Chicago. They’ve been in business since I was one, making them the oldest continually run tattoo studio in Chicago and making me old as fuck.  They have an amazing group of talented and award-winning artists on staff, and they are more than sympathetic to our cause.

They’ve offered us a rather nice deal over the weekend of the conference.

Rather than all of us scheduling work here, there and everywhere, they’ve offered to not only get us all in and done up at their place, they’re giving all BlogHer attendees 20% off all tattoos and piercings over the weekend, from July 22nd to July 26th.  They’ve arranged with the bar next door for us to receive one free drink with any work done, and anyone from BlogHer who shows up at the shop, work or not, gets $1 off drinks and $2 off appetizers on top of that, and a Tattoo Factory t-shirt on the house.

Oh, and he’s given me a $50 gift certificate and two $25 gift certificates to his studio to give away to y’all. Which doesn’t suck.

You can check out all the artists here and then call (773) 989-4077 to book an appointment.  They will accept walk-ins for small tattoos as time is available, but they strongly recommend making appointments in advance, seeings how they’re totally busy on the weekends as it is, without a shitton of bloggers coming by for work.

So, what about you who aren’t coming, or who aren’t planning on getting divorced tattooed?  Yeah, there’s something for you, too.  Meet Lu.  Lu has a shop on Etsy called Below 14th (and she’s got a blog, too) and in her Etsy shop called Below 14th she sells jewelry that is handmade to order, one of a kind, and occasionally fashioned after tattoos.  Like these.

And she’s given me one of each of those to give away as well, so that maybe if you’re not getting a tattoo you can still get a tattoo, you know?  She’s giving one person, attendee or not, 30% off any order from her site, and all of us 10% off any order from her site by using the code BlogHer until July 1st.  Her jewelry is custom made, so if you’re hoping to pick up a new set of earrings to wear to the conference, I’d order before July to make sure your stuff gets to you in time.

For the record, my birthday is March 20th and I wouldn’t cry at all if this showed up at my door.  Just sayin’.

So that’s the deal.  There are three tattoo studio gift certificates and three jewelry items being given away, and to win one just leave a comment here.  No silliness, no pimping out necessary, just leave a comment and mention whether you’d like a something from the Tattoo Factory or something from Below 14th.  5 winners will be randomly chosen on July 1st, and the sixth winner, the one who gets to choose first what they’ll win, will be whoever comes up with a design for my tattoo, because god do I need input.  Make this gorgeous, and email it to heymrlady@gmail.com with tattoo in the subject line, and I may just have this lady dig your design into my skin for all eternity:

and the grasses will still be singing

Simple, huh?  You’d think.

The Tattoo Factory can also be found on twitter at @tattoofactory, and the official Twitter hashtag if you absolutely must use one is #BlogHerTat.

For more, head on over to this review’s new home at Whiskey in My Sippy Cup. All the comments have been moved over as well!