Full disclosure

It's a rainy Fathers' Day here in Indianapolis, which is great because I don't think I can have one more bit of fun and still make it to work tomorrow.

I had Book Club Friday night, Jeff played poker and Alison slept over at the Ogdens.

The book was bad, but we had two bottles of champagne and other wine, one pregnancy announcement, one run for state senate announcement and one member's near miss of a threesome when she hopped across the border on weekend of her misspent youth. (I brought the champagne, not the announcements...)

Saturday morning, Ali and had what was my final fitting for our dresses for Jen's wedding. Alison's dress is nearly finished, she'll have at least one more fitting.

That afternoon, Alison had Jenna's 10th birthday party and Jeff and I went to Annmarie's 50th birthday party that night.

But first, there was The Discovery.

While she waited for Miss Julia to adjust her dress, Alison went looking for my phone in my purse. "Hey Mom, what's this?" she said, holding up a tampon.

I sighed. I knew it would happen one day, and I was happy to talk about it with her...but not in the tailoring shop. "I'll tell you in the car, honey, we're almost done here."

"But what it is it?"

"I'll tell you later."

"Why? What is it? Is it for a shot?"

"No."

"Is it medicine?"

"No."

"Is it candy?"

"No."

She followed me into the changing room. It was my fault we were lingering; I had some other clothes to adjust as well as the bridesmaid dresses.

She kept firing questions at me. Now, I'm not usually one to hold back, but I really didn't want an audience for this one. There was an older gentleman in the outer room, I'd heard the bell announce another customer, and there was also Miss Julia. None of the rooms in the place were actually rooms -just thin walls that didn't hit the ceiling.

"Is it a game?"

"No."

"Is it a gun?"

"No."

"Is it candy?"

"No. I. Will. Tell. You. LATER."

"Geeze! Is it a weapon?"

We get in the car.

"Are you sure you want to hear this?" I asked, rememering her admonition that she wanted to hear the sex talk only once. "It's kind of gross."

"Sure. What is it? Can we go to Taco Bell? I'm starving," she said.

I give her the scoop on the item she had found as well as its companion item, the whys and hows and that it will be something she'll have to deal with sometime soon.

"How does the blood get out of you?" she asked.

As Taco Bell came into view, I went into more detail.

"Huh," she said. "You know Mom, that's not all that gross. I mean, it just happens once, right?"

"No, it happens every month for a long, long time."

"Well it's just once a month, right? I know something that's way grosser than that," she said. "Wanna hear it?"

"Sure," I said, bracing myself.

Her story involved a guy who once ate so much spaghetti that it couldn't fit in his stomach and he had to scoop it out OF HIS OWN THROAT!!!! I had to admit that the pasta story was pretty gross.

Happily, the debate over crunchy, soft or double decker tacos changed the subject. She hasn't yet returned to it. I feared for a while that she'd bring it up at Jenna's birthday sleepover. I could just hear her saying, "Hey, guys, guess what's going to happen to US?!"

But I trusted Amer to spot a flock of seagulls or gazelles or something. I'd gone over there prepared to go to the gym on my way home. My hair was scraped back, I had on workout gear and no makeup.

Before the gymn, I stopped in at Kroger and was lost looking at gift cards when I hear my name. Susie (Ann's sister) and her friend, Mary Ann, who turned out to be super fun, were there, too. We chatted a bit and I said I'd see them later.

I did shower before the party. I even had my hair down, some makeup slapped on and the magic bra that, well, was working some pretty magnificent magic. I spied Mary Ann and went to say hello. She looked at me blankly.

I said, "We met at Kroger..." She took another look and said, "You look different."

At the time, I attributed it to my hair being a crazy mess. But now, I'm thinking it was the extra cup sizes I was carrying. I think I could be a spy with that thing on.
I think anyone who wears one of those things on a first date is asking for trouble. It's really false advertising. And, bonus: there's no backpain with those puppies.

But that wasn't the only Father's Day gift Jeff got.

Alison had a couple surprises, including her trademark greeting card with singing gerbils or squirrels or some sort of furry creature. She settled on some father-daughter metal collar tabs from The Red Envelope and a sweet book, and we took him out for a late breakfast. I think they have some Mario Kart or Donkey Kong in their plans.

As for me, I'm going to finish downloading the photographs that have been living in my phone and camera and then go find a newspaper. I've unloaded enough lately...