Friday, April 19, 2013

Money Laundering

I never intended to devolve into a life of crime.  I'm truly a freedom-loving, patriotic American.  I've lived my life trying to be a good citizen.  True, our little Provo version of the White House doesn't fall under the same scrutiny as the DC version, so I could probably get away with a bit of money laundering, my morals demand that I come clean, so to speak.

Ironically, this little episode of Inside the White House began while we were attending the Freedom Festival's patriotic "Hope of America" program.  Technically, I guess it began a couple weeks before that.  I just didn't know about Tomatogate until it was too late.

Let me explain.

There we were, enjoying the April 17 performance of The Hope of America.  I've seen this canned program several times now as my children pass through the fifth grade, and the songs and flags still get to me and bring tears of American pride to my eyes.  This year it was #3 rocking it to "Gangnam Style" while the grandma drill team shook their stuff and the 90-something-year-old GG-ma stole the show with the splits.  (I'm including video proof of this feat, in case you don't believe me.  #3 is the craziest kid in the second stripe down, half a dozen students away from the aisle.)

I apologize for wasting nearly a minute of your life with this video.

Like I was saying, there we were enjoying the show, whooping and waving our arms.  As the applause died down, I felt something wet on my lap.  Being past the days when I hold my leaky pukey babies, this was a cause for concern.  I lifted my purse and confirmed that a moist patch was growing on the leg of my jeans.  I dug around in my purse a bit to also confirm that I wasn't carrying a water bottle or hand sanitizer.  (Thanks to #4's science experiment in Kindergarten a few years ago, I don't put much faith in that stuff.  Water: good.  Hand sanitizer: pointless and potentially poisoness.  But that's a post for another time.)  Being unable to determine why my purse had a wet bottom, I did what years of holding leaky pukey babies taught me: I set it on the floor and dealt with it the next day.  (Just kidding.  My babies always got my attention within a few hours.  Usually.)

The next afternoon, I got to work emptying items from the still-wet purse.  At this point I was noticing it's unpleasant smell as well.  (Maybe I should rename this post "A Dozen Ways Your Purse is Like a Baby".)  The Great Gatsby was a little moist.  My leather gloves were pretty damp.  And then I found the presidents who were soaked in the scandal.  Even the Treasurey Secretary was in the thick of it.  That's where the money laundering began.  I couldn't let Washington and Lincoln be defaced in such a manner.  The couple of Hamiltons also needed a good washing.  Turns out baby wipes are great for cleaning more than just infant tooshies.  After scrubbing the bills--and my sunglasses, floss, and notebook--and tossing a handfull of playbills, Ikea maps, and receipts...I discovered the criminal.

Here's how the cover-up went down.  Old purse ended up being thrown under the bus...or rather, into the garbage truck.  With the problem quietly disposed of, a much smaller purse was brought in as a replacement.  My new tiny, vinyl purse guarantees that I will never again be shamed with stinky, leaky tomatoes in my lap.

Give me another decade or so, and I might be willing to hold stinky, leaky grand-babies.

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