Thursday, September 17, 2009


photo from

Here in our neck of the woods it is Homecoming season. This means that young men all over the state have devised creative ways to invite a young lady to attend the Homecoming dance with them. This dance is a first for my oldest boy, who deliberated much over how to go about asking his date to accompany him. He decided to have a cheese pizza delivered to her with a note under the lid which read,

"I hope you don't think this is cheesy, but will you go to Homecoming with me?"

The next day he received her response; a bottle of Sunny Delight with this note attached:

"Look here, SUNNY, I'd be DELIGHTed to go to Homecoming with you!"

I thought that both the inquiry and the reply were very clever. Maybe even something they'll remember years from now. I, for one, will never forget one such occasion in my teenage life... the time I asked Mark to Homecoming.

I know what you're thinking; don't the guys ask the girls to Homecoming? Traditionally, yes. But I was never a very traditional young woman. It did not bother me in the least to be the one doing the asking, especially if a particular boy whom I may or may not have been precariously close to stalking for the previous 3 years had not asked me yet. Tradition? HA! I just wanted a date.

Like my oldest son, I carefully thought over the different ways of asking. I finally decided to place a wind-up alarm clock beneath his bed, set for 3:00 am. When the alarm would sound, he would scramble beneath his bed to find the source of the racket and find a note which read,

"Don't be alarmed! It's just me, Gerb, wondering if you'll go to Homecoming with me."

My carefully devised plan was to stealthily sneak into his home through a sliding glass door which was left unlocked, position the clock, and then leave undetected. This may or may not have required my missing a couple of classes during school hours. The clock was planted and I made my escape. The rest of the day I was consumed with giggles as I would think of the look on Mark's face when the abrasive noise woke him early the next morning.

I was still giggling as I crawled into bed that night.


From beneath my bed! Disoriented, I bolted upright and then raced haphazardly about the room for a moment before realizing what was going on. I crawled underneath my bed and retrieved the source of the commotion. It was a wind-up alarm clock! At this point I was coherent enough to realize that this was supposed to be surprising Mark, not me. How did it get here?! But none of that mattered when I read the note attached to the clock:

"Don't be alarmed! It's just Mark saying YES!"

I was elated. The next day I called to ask him what had happened. Had I inadvertently set the alarm for the wrong time? How was the little clock discovered early? Here is Mark's story:

He arrived home from school and went to his room. The first thing he noticed was an unfamiliar ticking noise coming from beneath his bed and the first thing he thought of was a bomb. He asked his dad, who was a police officer, to investigate. His dad called in the bomb squad, who discovered the source of the mysterious ticking noise (couldn't resist adding that link) and turned it over to its rightful owner. Mark then devised his plan to surprise me with my own surprise.

To this day I do not know if this story is the truth or a fabrication on Mark's part. However, I do know that it makes for an awesome legend in my personal history.

Even if it is a bit alarming.

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