Brother Bee’s Birthday Flames

And I thought I’d have nothing to post this morning to recap the weekend. MomBee and DadBee were here on Sunday to celebrate Brother Bee’s birthday. It’s actually on Oct. 1, which he liked to remind us over and over and over. But seeing as how my parents are travelling next weekend, they came down a bit early.

I made pies. Yes, pies, with an S. Complete with made from scratch crust. This is sort of an important family point to make because besides the secret rolls, pies are what we bake. So I started at o’early thirty making pies. Brother Bee loves pumpkin pie for birthday cake, so he got a ginormous pie. But Hubby Bee doesn’t like pumpkin, and his fav is key lime. So I made a key lime pie. BUT, what if our other guests didn’t like either? So, I made an apple pie too. Complete with lattice work on the top. I should have taken pictures. Damn. But not that i’m bragging. Just showing you how I spend my Sunday mornings. Making pies.

So we invited a few friends over to enjoy Birthday Pie and give my brother his gifts (mine, of course, came from Busted Tees). It was all good. Watched a little football, ate some pie, yum.

As everyone started to leave, Brother Bee also got ready to head back to the dorms in his most awesome 1985 Volvo station wagon. This car has been in the family since right after I was born. It is the one and only car that my parents have driven off a car lot, brand new. But that was 23 years ago. Now the car is missing it’s identity from the back, the tail lights don’t work, one is busted out. The A/C hasn’t worked for years and I think the brakes have been replaces 2 or 3 times. Not to mention the trouble there has been with the catylitc converter. The leather seats are totally worn down…it’s a piece of crap. Seriously. Adam Sandler wrote his “Piece of Shit car” song about this volvo. There’s been lots of love aimed at this car…it’s been well used. So, when the following events occured outside my neighbor’s house I wasn’t that surprised:

Brother Bee left my house to get in the car. My friends and parents were milling about in the front yard. We heard my brother start his car, and then a yell

“Um, MOOOM!!! Is my car supposed to be doing that?!?”

There was smoke engolfing the hood of his car. All around it. Smoke pouring out from under the hood.

“NNOOOOO!! Turn your car off!! And pop the hood”

As my mom so bravely lifted his hood, we saw flames. FLAMES. My brother’s car was on FIRE!!! Holy shit. So I ran inside to grab our kitchen fire extinguisher. Which, by the way, never buy. It lasted all of 30 seconds and didn’t put the fire out at all. I’m not sure how it would have put out a kitchen fire at all. A little scary, but I didn’t really have time to think about it as my brother’s car was still on fire. This was about the point where my neighbors started wondering why the block smelled like burnt plastic and fireworks. I ran back inside, upstairs to grab our big household fire extinguisher. Not that I needed it as, thankfully, all my neighbors were running out with theirs. How embarrasing.

Finally, we got the fire under control without having to call the fire department, which, yeah we probably should have done in the first place, but too late. The fire was out, I have no fire extiguishers, and there’s a POS car outside my house surrounded in white powder. Excellent. It looks a little like we live in an LA slum. Or at least are the kind of people that drive cars that just start up in flames, but with a little fire extinguisher you can just put it out and keep driving it. Nevermind the ‘67 chevy we have on cinder blocks in my back yard.

Unfortunately, my brother is out a car…which to a college freshman is devistating. Plus, he really loved that car. It’s like when I blew out the engine of my ‘75 VW Bug. I was sad. My brother might have cried a bit. I don’t know. He caught a ride with my friend who also lives on campus. The fate of the family car has yet to be decided. Luckily, the neighborhood is still in tact. Second event of the day that needed a picture. Shoot. Literally.

Good thing to come out of all of this? My neighbor learned that his son is a brave soul. As she explained to me: “He came right in and got me and told me that we needed a fire extinguisher.” I’m so proud of him. I think he’s about 7 years old, and he is so brave! I only hope that everyone elses’ children in my neighborhood are so calm and collected when I almost set their fence on fire.

Brother Bee Goes to College

Honestly, a lot like Ernest Goes to College, if they ever made one. Or Animal House…dorm room version. With crazy mothers.

I took a break from my work day (which was really lazy busy) to help my parents move my baby, I mean wickedly* awesome, brother into his first year of college. It’s going to be a doozy. Especially if the hour I spent there is any indication. I know he’ll do swell in the dorms with JGBee, his roommate, and it will be frickin’ awesome having him here, that is if he survives the next 5 hours.

I got there just in time for all of his stuff to be moved up to the 4th floor. Trust me, this is nothing. I lived on the 11th floor in the same dorm. NIGHTMARE. However, there are many times that I feel like there are too many chefs in the kitchen. This was one of them. 2 anxious, nervous college students, 2 “let’s get this the hell over with” dads and 2 great, but controlling, nervous, soon-to-be empty nester moms taking control of everything. And I mean everything. From where to put the stuff outside of the room until it’s ready to how to cut the carpet to make it fit in the room.

Now, I must digress here. I know you’re saying either 1) “Wait, CARPET? That’s AWESOME! All we had were gross linoleum floors;” or 2) “Wait, you had to put the carpet in yourselves???” The truth is both, yes, they HAD the great linoleum flooring and yes, we did have to put the carpet in ourselves. That’s because wicked* cool QB sister bought them carpet to pimp out their rooms. Other kids might have small rugs to cover the floor, but this kid has wall-to-wall carpet! In the stylin’ puke gold color that was all too popular in the 70’s. Matches the Banana chair.

So yes, as the mothers had a huddle to decide how to lay the carpet, Brother Bee and I had to get out of the room to go buy his books. This is quite a complicated process that one MUST have an older sister, or classmate to help with or else you’re lost. After I had figured out the system my first year, I helped at least a dozen people on my floor buy their books. Take your class schedule, find the department, find the course number, find the section number, find the books, find USED books, rinse and repeat. Or you get lice. Book lice. $456 later, we were back in the dorm room. I had seriously forgotten how small they actually were.

But, Brother Bee will make it. As long as he doesn’t have a key to my house. Then I might be in trouble. Big trouble. For instance this is the conversation that followed after my mother showed Brother Bee his new laundry detergent:

Brother Bee: Why do I need laundry detergent?

MB: Um, to wash your clothes with.

BB: But, Queen Bee has laundry detergent. She’ll just use hers to do my laundry.

See? Apparently I’m his mother now. Not to mention that JGBee thinks that my gift to humanity is the ability to buy them beer. Cheap beer. We’ve got a long 2 years ahead of us. Maybe he won’t survive the next year. At least he didn’t insist on bringing the pingpong table down for “ping pong,” wink, wink.