If you want proof positive that I have been more than just a little distracted with these hooligans the past few weeks, I present to you the smoking gun. The evidence shown below should prove beyond a shadow of a doubt just how preoccupied I've been. So, this should just about wrap things up; I'm sure you'll agree that this is an open and shut case, as they say.
The hooligans of which I speak.
THE PROOF:These packages have been sitting in my bathroom UNOPENED(!!!) for more than two weeks. Two weeks, for pete's sake! Holy cats, that's gotta be some kind of a record for me. I mean, the UPS truck is my favorite vehicle! Packing peanuts follow me around like a puppy dog! The credit card company doesn't even bother to phone Dave anymore warning him that there seems to be "an unusual amount of activity" in a single day on my MC! (Not that he would even blink an eye at that anymore . . . .) Need I say more? My desire to hang out with these happy hooligans even trumps the thrill and subsequent hyperventilation that comes from my online-shopaholic-can't-wait-to-hear-that-doorbell-rung-by-a-package-bearing-man-clad-from-head-to-foot-in-chocolate-brown adventures. See what I mean? Open and shut. Book 'em Danno. Mark VII.
The smoking gun, as it were.
But, oh. Wait.
Ah.
Aaaaaand, so it continues:
Yup. That's me. Good ol' Dean Sager.
In case you're wondering, (and I'm not convinced that you are), but anywho, all but two of the items I ordered went back from whence they came. Rats. On the other hand, Dave has suddenly developed a certain spring in his step. Huh. Wonder what that's all 'bout . . . .
(Full disclosure: I did sneak a quick peek in the bottom box a day after its arrival, but that's it--I swear on a stack of Christmas catalogs, that's it.)
Lookee here!More heavenly goodness landed in our house last week. And, oh, what a heavenly week I have had with all three of my children together again after two! full! years! Throw in The Bundle of Heavenly Deliciousness (TBHD), aka Kimball, and I've been skipping on my tippy toes to the tune of "Home Can Be a Heaven on Earth" all week!
On a sad note, My Beauty, aka Ashley, and The Bundle of Heavenly Deliciousness jetted off Monday for their home in La Jolla.
Oh.
Yeah.
Well, LaJolla. Not a bad gig, I suppose.
Oooh. The house suddenly seems rather empty and quiet without My Beauty and TBHD and his smiles. And his giggles. And his speaking in tongues. And his backstroke training. And his mad culinary skills. And his pool sharking. And his shuffleboarding. And his Beethoven-ing. And his commodities trading. And his researching for the cure for all diseases known to man. And his theoretical astrophysics homework. Man. That boy is a J-E-A-N-EEEOUS! But, of course! Whose grandbaby is he, anyway? Huh? Huh?
For now, allow me one little "waaah." Right-O. Bucking up, bucking up . . .
My apologies for taking so long with this post. Jeepers, I can hardly tear myself away from my sweet, sweet son long enough to blog. Now, that's sayin' something!!! You'll forgive me, won't you?
Seanie is home!!!
(And his mama is having a heart attack out of sheer joy!)
My son is home! My son is home, safe and sound! I can't get enough of this handsome, handsome young man! It just doesn't seem real yet. I'm turning black and blue from all of the pinching to make sure I'm awake and lucid.
SHRIEEEEEEEEKKKKKK!!!!! I am beside myself with thankfulness and gratitude for Sean. For his love. For his goodness. For his testimony. For his obedience. And, for goodness sake, for his un-whacked-up body! Could a mother be filled with more love and adoration and pride than I am for my Sean? No. No she could not. I love this young elder with all that I am. And he is home!!!
Sorry about the blurry pictures, but these are as good as it gets when we were all rushing like a frenzied mob to tackle El Guapo!
The anticipation was a killer. Drop dead killer.
"SHRIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK," screamed guess who!
(Hint: It was not Sean doing the screaming.)
A very surreal moment. Hurry! Someone throw water on me to wake me up! Oh wait! It is real! Let me at 'im!
Five minutes later I'm still not letting go . . .
Giddy. Absolutely giddy with happiness.
Our boy is home!
(Hyperventilation set in at this point.)
The Three Amigos!
Quick Draw McGraw and his wicked machete!
A VERY FEW BRIEF HIGHLIGHTS:
*Waiting, waiting, and waiting at the bottom of the escalators for THE ONE!
*Dozens of people streaming by starring at the balloons and signs.
*Dozens of people walking by saying, "The Mormon missionaries? Yup. They're coming."
*Dozens more people walking by saying merely, "They're coming!"
*Dozens more people walking by saying, "They're coming. They're just taking their time."
*Me fuuuuurrrrreeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaking out when at last we catch a glimpse of our elder.
*Lots of hugging, laughter, hugging . . .
*Noticing that I'm hugging 70 lbs. less of my Seanie.
*Practically skipping out to the car.
*Being pulled over by a cop for speeding at 12:40 a.m.
*Me groaning because I had received a speeding ticket on this very same country lane.
*Being let go by the cop at 12:42 p.m. because of our returned missionary in tow.
*Sean walking straight to our kitchen sink and drinking right out of the tap.
*Sean stopping smack dab dead in his tracks before entering our family room.
*Sean in a whisper, "This room alone could hold two Honduran houses."
*Staying up until 4:00 a.m. soaking him in.
*Tender and special moments the next day in the temple.
*Eating, breathing, drinking Sean every day since his arrival until all hours of the early morning. (Not part of the mission regimen, Sean laments.)
*Deciding there is no need for Christmas this year; Christmas has arrived!!!
*Still not over the fact that Sean is back!
*I love this guy more than ever before. More than words can say. More than he will ever know.
(Hint: We are so happy that Sean is coming HOME!!!)
This 0 also represents the number of hours of sleep I got last night. BTW, have you ever noticed how quiet and creepy a house can be at 2:00 a.m.? How about at 3:00 a.m.? 4:00 a.m.? 5:00 a.m.? All I can say is that there came a point during the night when sleepless me wished for some of that knock-out powder used in those 1950's detective movies. Either that or a healthy clunk on the head from a low-hanging cabinet door. Zzzzzzzzzzzzz. Ah. But no such luck.
Since I'm such a nice guy, I'm going to give you a second go at the 0:
What could it be? What? What?
TIME'S UP! MAKE YOUR GUESS NOW
OR FOREVER HOLD YOUR PEACE.
Yay! It is our
HOME
SWEET SEAN'S
HOME!
See if you can spy the nifty Honduran flag peaking
Oooooooookay. I think I'm stable for the time being, but let's make this fast because I don't know how long I'll be able to hold out.
Now for the big question:
HOW MANY MORE DAYS UNTIL ELDER SAGERS RETURNS TO THE PLACE WHERE HE IS LOVED BEST?
But first!
(Sung to the tune, "One" from A CHORUS LINE):
One singular sensation Every little step he takes. One thrilling combination Every move that he makes. One smile and suddenly nobody else will do; You know you'll never be lonely with you know who. One moment in his presence And you can forget the rest. For the guy is second best To none, Son. Ooooh! Sigh! Give him your attention. Do...I...really have to mention? He's the One?
Thank you! That concludes our short cultural Broadway interlude.
So how many days? Huh? Huh?
I'm going to let you in on a little secret about this clue: The object bearing this 1 doesn't technically belong to Sean, however, it contributes to something that Sean absolutely adores. OK. Go! Hey you! Are you thinking? Are you even trying? C'mon! I've got things to do; people to see; places to go! Guesses? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
HALT! GO NO FURTHER UNTIL YOU HAVE GIVEN THIS YOUR BEST MEASURE OF THOUGHT (heehee)
Hallelujah! I thought you'd never get it. Great effort, everyone!
Today, this little measuring spoon helped me create a homecoming treat for Sean, one that he went gaga for before his mish. Perhaps he will find these blissfully rich brownies a touch too sweet for his palate after being away from the sugar-aholic USofA for two years, but no matter. I want him to be welcomed with a fabulous home cooked meal and a big hunkin' helping of chocolate love upon his arrival (even at 1:00 a.m.). Just so you can hate me in the morning, I'll give you the recipe and let you wallow in the goodness as well:
DECADENT BROWNIES
aka Sean's Version of Heaven
One 9 X 13 pan baked brownies (I use a box mix)
4 ounces unsweetened chocolate, chopped
1 cup butter, softened
1/2 cup pasteurized egg substitute
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
3 1/2 cups confectioner's sugar, sifted
4 cups mini marshmallows
While the brownies are baking, make the frosting. Melt the chocolate and butter in a medium bowl in the microwave on high for one minute. Stir. Return to microwave for 30 second intervals, stirring until smooth and completely melted. Add the egg substitute, vanilla, and sugar. Stir with wooden spoon until completely incorporated. Stir in marshmallows; they will soften but not melt completely. Spread the frosting over the still-warm brownies. The frosting will set up when the brownies are completely cooled. You've basically slapped a huge slab of chocolate fudge atop a huge slab of brownie. Mmmmmm, hallelujah!
HOW MANY DAYS UNTIL T.C.E.E.* GIVES HIS MAMA A GREAT BIG YOGI-BEAR HUG FROM WHICH SHE NEVER LETS GO FOR LIKE, WEEKS?
*T.C.E.E.=The Coolest Elder Ever!
We're down to the wire, here guys. Get your thinking caps on and have a go at what you think might bear this 2. (Oh, wow! Two! Two days! Sheezam! My boy will be home in two days!!! SHRIEK!) Okay, sorry about that freak-out, but now I'm back. Cool as a cucumber, that's me. SHRIEK!!! Oh my. So! I'm going to give you a clue on this one because it's a Tuesday, and we all know that our brains don't really get ramped up until Wednesday. So, here's your clue:
~Sean drives the girls
cuuurrrraaaazzzzy with this!~
WHOA, NELLY!
STOP! (You may also want to LOOK!, and LISTEN!)
Make your guess about that mysterious 2 before you skitter on down to the next picture.
And now, some words to motivate and inspire:
"Think, think, think." --Winnie the Pooh
Yeaaaaaah! That's what I'm talkin' about, right there!
Did you get it? Did you use my not-so-clever clue to guess that the 2 is on the gear shift of this little death trap in which Sean likes to gad about town? If so, you are correct! Congratulations! Well done. Well done, indeed.
By the by, just how long are 48 hours, anyway? When one is counting every single minute, every single second, "enduring to the end" shimmies perilously close to "pushing one over the edge." That's how long 48 hours are. Just sayin'.
(You know this is the part where you're supposed to play along and fill in the blank, right? I know, I know. I'm super giddy with excitement so just humor me with all of this nonsense and play along.
¡Gracias, amigos!)
HEY! STOP RIGHT THERE!
Do not try to sneak down to the bottom of this post until you have taken a stab at guessing where this 3 might be displayed.
I'll wait. Still waiting . . .
Tick, tock. Tick, tock. (Snicker.)
Woo hoo! Did you guess Sean's
alarm clock? Yes?!
Ooooh. Sorry. Better luck next time. But thanks for comin'!!!
This is Sean's nifty Nixon Rotolog watch which I insisted he leave at home.
If my suspicions about his "after the mission stories" inferences are correct, I'm pretty sure Sean is going to be thanking me that he still has a left hand attached to his arm:
Can you guess what object in Sean's bedroom bears this 4?
STOP!
Now, now, boys and girls. Remember the rules.
No scrolling until you've ventured a guess!
Whad'ya think?
Ta da! Sean salvaged this license plate after we moved to Utah as a memento of his cherished years in Illinois. He has it hanging on the wall near his bed.
So! Who guessed correctly? You guys! Try harder next time!
P.S. Just wondering about something. Do butterflies in your stomach make it as hard for you to go to sleep as they do to mine? Cuz . . .
Whoa-kay, boys and girls! The countdown has begun!
How many days until my precious boy is home and can give me a ginormous hug? (CAUTION: I'll be bawling like a baby. Just puttin' that out there right now. Just so ya know. I don't want to alarm anyone with my boo-hooing.)
This is a picture of one of Sean's possessions that he has not seen for two years.
See if you can wrack your little brain to figure out what it is. Go on. Take a guess!
STOP!
Don't scroll down until you've made your guess.
Have you chimed in with your guess yet? No fair peeking; you are on the honor system here cuz I can't monitor everything you do--I only have so much time in my day, don't ya know.
K. Are you ready? What's your guess?
Scroll down to see if you get a gold star slapped onto your forehead.
This is Sean's beloved Fender FM 212R ampleeee(oooh, loud! loud!)eeeeeefier,
just one of his many ampleeee(earplugs!)eeeeeefiers)
Did you get it right? Try harder next time. There might be a prize.
*I'm dying to see whether Elder Sean eventually gets back to using his amplifiers again. If so, my guess is he will only crank them up to blast some great Mormon Tabernacle Choir melodies through our walls benefiting our backdoor neighbors. I know they'd just love that.
"Hey, Myrtle! It sounds like that Sagers boy is back home. Glad to hear "The Battle Hymn of the Republic," but I must admit I do kinda miss his Led Zeppelin tunes now and then. It kept my pacemaker in rhythm, what with that thumping bass guitar and all."
