The Master Plan

The Husband is making setting the coffee maker for the morning and counting his blessings he's gotta work during the day, seeing as how I'm currently writing a blog post that may or may not have me explaining to the Men in Black that I took my meds. Hopefully my kid won't be sneezing while I'm blinking prettily and explaining What a Blog Is and that Sarcasm is a Thing because she's more likely to ask for Adderall than she is Benadryl and Lord Help Me, I've tried explaining multiple times that Mama takes the one that starts with an A and Let's Not Say That Out Loud Anymore, Okay?

I'll bet you're wondering why you're looking at a picture of a dollar store light house, a bunch of birthday candles marked 'TNT", and a key chain alarm clock. Perhaps, you are asking yourself, The Master Plan is a cry for help?

Look at all the free time this woman must have, you might be thinking. The construction paper TNT marker on the candles? The candle wax "fused" together with a drop of hot glue? Obviously she needs an intervention. Quick! Someone hold her down and we can all bust out with the rainbow loom! That's at least Productive, right?

Well listen up, Judgey McJudgerson, because this is all actually about to make sense. Stop laughing and let me explain: This little psuedo-bomb concoction is actually serving as the Welcome Sign for the visiting Best Friends. Still with me? 'Cuz there's an explanation for that one, too.

We are born and bred metro-Detroiters and when we left five years ago, we left behind the BFF-Couple we both love. We spent weekends hanging out, no one felt the need to hide the pile of dirty clothes in a closet for appearance's sake, and there are private jokes involving fluffy pants and out houses with pet spiders bigger than your head. It was beautiful.

Every year when the leaves were a gorgeous autumn mix of reds and golds, we'd pack up the truck, the dogs, ourselves, and drive (and drive) to the Upper Peninsula for a week of camping (hotel optional). As long as we were within driving distance of a Walmart, we were happy and loved exploring places like Pictured Rocks and Tahquamenon Falls. The latter is actually where The Master Plan was born, my friends.

We were sight-seeing, checking out a light house, and when we got hungry, we all headed back to the Suburban to eat an "indoor" picnic while surfing the web on a laptop for our next stop. I should probably mention that we were in the middle of a very, ummmm, monochromatic area and that The  (heavily beared) Husband and I are about six shades darker than The BFF's and that this was all relayed to the local cops when a fellow light house visitor walked by the suburban and decided we must have kidnapped the white people. Plus, we were On the Internet and obviously we must be planning to blow up the joint, right?

Of course, we didn't know any of this until we were in the lookout area back at the top of the lighthouse and the cops pulled up and flanked the truck. Because we are all smart-asses and knew we hadn't broken any laws eating our sammiches, we took our time mosey-ing our way to the beach to look for pretty rocks. The cops, we figured, could come to us.

Eventually, we had a State Trooper join us, looking all kinds of uncomfortable and obviously already aware that the asshat that had called on The Terrorist and his wife was, in fact, a giant asshat and not the brilliant informer he had assumed himself to be. The conversation, when he finally approached us, went something like this:

State Trooper:  I'm sorry to bother you folks but...we had a call that a man with a beard was on the internet in the back of a truck facing the light house.

Me: What the Holy Hell?

The Husband: It's because I'm Mexican, isn't it?

State Trooper: Actually, sir, the caller actually thought you were of Arab decent.

The Husband: Right...because that makes it better?

State Trooper: Well, not when you put it that way.

The White People We Are Friends With: *motioning furiously at me and The Husband*  THEY KIDNAPPED US AND FEED US DOG FOOD!

State trooper (ignoring The White People We Are Friends With): I'm really sorry...the caller was concerned you might be planning to maybe set off a bomb...

Me: Not until after we ate. I never plan terrorist attacks on an empty stomach.

State Trooper:  I'm really sorry...

Then me and Mel (the girl-half of the BFF-Couple) flanked the State- Trooper and yelled CHEESE as The Husband snapped a picture of us smiling big smiles while he tried avoiding all eye contact.

It's one of my favorite pictures ever.

So the State Trooper left and the incident turned into a giant running joke called The Master Plan and now our BFFs are looking at the homemade bomb and we are all wistful and giggling like 6th-graders and it's the best night ever.

And that, my friends, is the reason I'll make sure I put a bra on when I wake up so I'm ready for the Feds when they show up. I'll be honest...I'm gonna be kind of disappointed if they don't.