Sorry, y’all.  I’m a little bit late getting back into the blogging world after a nice, long weekend with my mother in town.  But, alas, there is a winner for Lulu’s Febreze giveaway!  And so, I must give it away.

Thanks to random.org’s integer generator, the lucky integer generated is:

This random integer belongs to my 5th commenter, Kelly at Cheaper Than a Happy Meal!  Congratulations!  And I hope that winning this cheers her up just a teensy bit.  Sadly enough, I just read Kelly’s most recent post, and her dog, Emily, is very ill.  If you get chance, click over and send some good wishes her way.

I’ll be back later this week with an update on the weekend with my mother!

My mother is currently on her way here from Tampa to spend the weekend with her dear, sweet Lulu.  And perhaps her other daughter.  And maybe her grandchildren.  But that’s beside the point.  At the time of this writing, she’s boarding her plane…or at least I think she is.  There’s also a strong possibility that she’s in TSA jail.  But I guess I’ll find out in about an hour when I’m supposed to be meeting her at the airport.

You see, my mother just called me a short while ago to let me know that she arrived safely at the Tampa airport a mere 3 hours before her scheduled departure to Atlanta.  She likes to be early so that she can find her way to the gate.  Three hours is a good lead time, because God forbid the gate gets changed to the other side of the airport and she ends up getting lost in baggage claim, or the food court, or perchance the long-term parking lot trying to find it.  People?  It can happen.

Anyway, shortly after the initial Eagle-has-landed call, I get another call from my mother.  This time, she is frantic and slightly out of breath.  My first thought is, God forbid!  She’s lost in long-term parking!  With someone else’s luggage!  While eating a Big Mac!  Alas, no.  Here is our conversation…

Me (in my professional office voice):  Hullo, this is Lulu.

Mother (breathing heavily):  Lulu!  You’ll…never…guess…pant, pant…what happened!

Me:  What?

Mother:  OMG!  I’m so angry!

Me:  WHAT is wrong?

Mother:  Well, um…pant, pant…you won’t believe what happened!

Me:  GOD FORBID! WHAT?

Mother (possibly crying):  Well, I’m having to throw away my brand new bottle of mousse, a bottle of hairspray, and my tanning lotion!

Me: …

Mother:  There’s a sign that says I can’t take it through security!

Me:  Mother.  Mother!  You can only carry on containers with 3 oz. or less of liquid and it’s all got to fit into a quart-sized zip-top bag.  What do you not understand about this (as I telepathically show her over the phone):

I thought that you knew that?  

Mother:  No!  I thought that you were allowed to carry on that kind of stuff, but not allowed to pack it in your checked luggage!  So, I asked some security woman if she could retrieve my checked suitcase so that I can put it in there.  (I can only imagine what the TSA agent told her.  God bless those people.)

Me: … (shaking head)

Mother:  Do you think that I could just hide it all in my purse and try to go through security?

Me: (banging my head furiously on my desk)  Mother!  Your purse will be x-rayed and/or searched when you go through security!

Mother:  Oh.  Well, I can try it, can’t I?

Me:  IT’S ILLEGAL!!

Mother:  Oh.  Well, I have to go find my gate now.

My dear, sweet, federal law-breaking mother.  I can only hope that she makes it safely to the Atlanta airport along with her checked luggage—which by the way, contains a couple of wool sweaters and socks.  It’s going to be in the 70’s here in Georgia this weekend.  Brr.

Update:  My mother made it safely to Atlanta without incident.  And mousse.

Do you know how I have this mild obsession with collecting salt and pepper shakers?  And angels?  And fourth-grade valentines?  And refrigerator magnets? 

No?  Well, um, I believe that my 19-year old son, Gus, has inherited the same evil, obsessive collector-type gene.  Of course, it could also be the impulsive-shopper gene, or the pack-rat gene, or the gene that is completely immune to Cipramil.  Nonetheless, he is inherently cursed.

Case in point—this is Gus’s closet.  And Gus.  Holding Bindi-Boodles.

He has 63 t-shirts.  I counted.  Twice.  He could clothe a small nation.  He has so many shirts, in fact, that his closet is on the serious brink of failure and misfortune…much like the U.S. economy.  One more Hurley, and the closet is going to hell in a hand basket…much like the U.S. economy.

After flipping through the mass quantity of shirts, I’m not even sure that I’ve seen him wearing some of them…although most of them have that lived-in look and feel.  But most likely it’s because he could feasibly wear a different shirt every day for two FREAKING months. 

It’s obscene, and I’m not sure why I, as a mother, let it come to this.  But I have.  And now I am airing my laundry.  Um, I mean Gus’s laundry—for all to see.  It’s funny how much you can learn about your son by going through his t-shirt collection.

1.  I like this one.  It’s our hometown team and its old skool.

2.  Gus worked at this store for two years while in high school.  You have no idea how much I miss his discount.

3.  Gus currently attends this college…

4.  …but he really wants to attend this college.  (Hello.  Get your grades up, buddy!)

5.  Please someone, tell me what kind of statement this is making.  Is Ben Franklin robbing a bank?  I am so out of touch with the younger generation.

6.  Ben Franklin disguised in a bandana.  The Statue of Liberty with a skull face.  Hmm…are these political undertones?  I got nothin’.

7.  This t-shirt if from Hilton Head.  If memory serves me right, Gus has never been to Hilton Head.  That I know of.

8.  Definitely not sure that I even want to know…

9.  Massive rivalries of which I care know nothing about…

10.  A troll sitting on a tree trunk.  Lord help me.  I have no idea.

11.  Gus was a boat driver counselor at a Boy Scout camp this summer, and I’m pretty sure this t-shirt came from there.

12.  Gus played tennis in high school…

13.  And unless he lead a secret life while in high school, I have no idea why this is in his closet…

I could post more, but this is supposed to be a list of thirteen.  Your eyes would totally start to bleed if I continued…

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Cue the horns, y’all.  For the first time in the history of this blog, I have decided to actually write about the item for which Lulu’s Laundry gets a gazillion smattering of hits a month.  Yes, people, I am talking about laundry.  Lulu’s Laundry.  And egads, does she have tons of it.

In fact, I have so many tons of it, that I got really disturbed this weekend and went on a tirade of mammoth proportions, which left GR and Gus crying in the corner of the laundry room sucking their thumbs and sniffing dryer sheets in hopes of going to a happy place far, far away in the land of White Lilac or Lemon Verbena.  Fat chance, guys.  Ain’t happenin’.

Wait a minute—I said corner of the laundry room like it’s an actual room with a corner.  It’s more like a broom closet.  Or a hovel.  It’s difficult to get the full dimensional feeling of this room in a picture, but I will try.  This, people, is Lulu’s Laundry Room:

Sigh.  This picture was taken from just outside the door opening into the laundy room.  Notice that there is no space to the left of the dryer.  And there is no space to the right of the washing machine, nor do I have built-in cabinets.  Also notice that Lulu does not own any fancy-pants, ultra-capacity, front-loading machines in Metallic Silver.  Or Glacier Blue.  Lulu believes in the very basics of washing and drying, and therefore, could not afford refused to pay more than $600 for the set.

That’s not to say that Lulu would not wet her pants over a well-organized laundry room like this…

Or one like this where I could snack on Cheetos at the island/bar and do laundry at the same time…

Or relax in a quaint, little room like this…

Or revel in a completely adorable one with a window and a light fixture and wicker baskets like this…

Or one that allows me to watch soaps on the television (get it, soaps? Har.) at the same time…

Or one that is so overwhelming wonderful that I would spend my entire life in the room and possibly open a business in which people that are cursed with laundry hovels could bring their laundry to me, and I would do it for free an incredibly small fee…

I can dream, right?  Oh well, I can only hope that the beating that I gave GR and Gus affected them enough to try and keep the laundry room organized and clean.  And if they don’t, then I’m locking the laundry room door, and instead of washing their clothes, they’ll be forced to douse them in the sweet smell of Febreze and hope for the best.

And speaking of Febreze (ah-hum), I am giving away a full-size bottle of Febreze® Fabric Refresher in Lavender Vanilla & Comfort scent and a very adorable tote bag…

This is the new and improved Febreze® Fabric Refresher, which

• eliminates odors on fabrics and in the air.
• offers a new, fine mist spray for even applications.
• offers a new pump design that reduces leaking, nozzle sticking, and that “quacking” sound.
• provides longer-lasting freshness – up two days of freshening power!

To learn more about the new Febreze Fabric Refresher products, visit the Febreze Web site.

To win the sweet smelling give-away, simply leave me a comment before midnight, September 26!  I’ll announce a winner on Monday.

In the meantime, happy laundering!