Will Work for Food

Lola is spending the weekend with my mother, Mamoo. They've got a cruise booked for the Thanksgiving holiday, so instead of watching Cops, they're holding a big ol' yard sale to raise money for "excursions." If I've heard Lo use the word "excursions" once, I've heard it a gajillion times. Evidently, excursions are those extracurriculars such as jet-skiing, rock wall-climbing, and snorkeling that you resort to once you get tired of eating and shopping.

The blue jar pictured is Lo's piggy bank for the trip. She doesn't trust herself not to spend the money if she knows how much is in there, so she painted it (ocean-themed) to hide it from herself. Of course, this required a visit to Michael's and me spending my money on spray paint. She's putting most of her allowance away and looking for other sources of income. She actually washed my car one weekend after I'd offered the job to Broke-Jack but he was watching the Godfather marathon. No matter that she can't see it, I have no doubt Lo knows to the penny the amount she has saved. She can tell you how much cash is in my purse right this second, and she hasn't seen me since Friday morning.

I have never been on a cruise, have never wanted to, and am pretty confident my opinion on that will never change. I imagine cruises are like being stuck at The Mall of Georgia, but set adrift in the middle of the ocean. All the food tastes like Ruby Tuesdays, and the decor is Vegas lite. I picture a panorama of Tommy Bahama shirts and Oprah-endorsed Carol Wior Slimsuits. I envision family-style dinner seating with couples who look like Mr. and Mrs. Roper. I'll pass.

The worst part about cruises for me, though, is that they seem so food-centric. Everyone talks about how much there is to eat and how you can eat as often and as much as you want. I'm not a big fan of trough food. Or anything, really, that requires a sneeze guard. Mamoo, however, is Cheerleader A for the Chinese Buffet or Shoney's, and that would make Lola the B. I could be making a giant assumption, but I get the impression that people who love cruises love to eat.

Once, I went to a baby shower for one of my best friends from college. Her mom and aunts were there, and they were a hoot. They told a story about a recent cruise they'd gone on and how much planning and trouble went into buying new wardrobes. It was very important to these ladies that they dress like the divas they were, and crucial that they shine while traveling. They were Old School proper, so none of the flannel pj bottoms or comfy drawstring pants you so often see at the airport. They wore their second-best outfits on the flight down to Florida and saved their very best for the trip home. Only, after a week of chocolate infinity fountain, they couldn't squeeze into their new outfits. They had to wear sweats on the plane and be humiliated.

That shouldn't be a problem for Lola, though, since all of her clothes look like this: