Chris is abandoning us for a week. He’s leaving for Las Vegas obscenely early Saturday morning, while the girls and I are still comatose. He’ll be exhibiting at the NAB (National Association of Broadcasters) show, collecting t-shirts/L.E.D. keychains/squeeze toys/pens, and occasionally making time for selling and schmoozing. A week of drunken fun in the name of work.
Last year, I got to go with him to the Interop show in Vegas, which was fun because I got to help him set up his booth (he was still a trade show virgin then) and we finally got to visit Vegas. Did I mention all we had to pay was my trip there? Chris’s flight and the villa at the lovely Polo Towers were covered by his company. Polo Towers is great: right on the strip, between MGM Grand and Planet Hollywood, rooftop pool and hot tub, and our villa included a king sized bed, full kitchen, living room / dining room, and a large bathroom with his-and-hers sinks.
We rented a Harley Davidson Dyna Wide Glide and went out to Red Rock Canyon on a scorching 39ºC-day. We drank 12 gallons of water each that day, and I discovered somewhat too late that I had missed a part of my back when applying sunscreen. It hurt to even look at the burn. But man was it worth it.
Unfortunately, Chris’s parents, who took care of our girls during our trip last year, are on a three-week trip to Tunisia with some of their brothers and sisters. We tried to have their vacation revolve around our schedule, but that didn’t fly. So instead, I’ll get to spend a week with my girls – morning routine, making lunches, swimming lessons, dinners and bath time, while entertaining them enough not to miss daddy too much.
The mystery chocolates help. Mystery as in “Hey, how did these get here?”, not “What the hell is this, mocklate?”.
As a side note, I discovered a couple of years ago that there really is such a thing as mocklate. Chris once brought home some chocolate which, in his defense, was wrapped in thick, pretty gold wrapper, giving the illusion of a high-end European chocolate bar. Once unwrapped, it seemed almost normal – until you pop a piece into your mouth, giving way to an unfortunate bitter taste. This putrid substance also refused to melt as you ate it. It just crumbled and sat in your mouth, laughing at you, while it made your tongue feel thick and pasty. Mocklate shouldn’t be authorized for use outside a laboratory.
Anyways, when Chris goes on a business trip, he buys a package of small, individually wrapped chocolates. Every night, I leave one of them on the girls’ night tables, which they find and get all excited about the next morning. And they just can’t figure out how daddy manages to leave the chocolates there for them while he’s gone.
Last month, when Chris went to San Francisco, Olivia came up with a theory. My first thought: “Uh-oh. She’s finally found me out.” I still have teeth marks on the inside of my cheeks from trying not to laugh at the explanation that followed. She suggested that Chris had given the chocolates to our next door neighbour, and that either he or his son sneak into our house in the middle of the night and leave the chocolates for them. Not at all creepy.
Thank God they’re pretty.