Okay, so we did all this work - and the girls didn't know.

This entire endeavor was to be a surprise.

Oh how I agonized when we tipped their toilet. Is this thing that we're destroying priceless in terms of antiquity and folk art and inspiration? You know, Sarah is pretty artsy fartsy. (And a woman! Eek! Who knows HOW they'll react.) It was a difficult decision.

At one point we thought, okay, we'll just move this outhouse over there and put a "Hers" sign out front, and put the new one here with a "His" sign out front. Pure poetry.

Unfortunately 1) I'd already painted a moon on the new one (which is symbolic of the goddess and therefore, HERS. and 2) The old outhouse was just too freaking heavy! We could tip it, but that was IT!

Okay, the new one is in place and the old one is gone. Now let's sit back and wait for the screamy phone call.

A week passes.

Tap tap tap. (No that's not Senator Craig) It's us waiting for them to discover it.

Mike was all for calling them right up and saying "go out to your property!" Because it had been sitting in our parlor for quite a while. We're done with it, we want to reap the benefit of their reaction ! ! ! !

Funny story there....so I'll digress a bit....Tammy (whom we love dearly and never seem to see enough of and who doesn't answer her phone - and is 'one of the girls' I've been speaking of) called one day out of the blue!

Imagine my thrill and excitement when I saw her name on caller ID. "Chuckles," she said "I'll be in the area today, why don't the three of us go out to dinner?"

I was already expecting a house full of guests that evening, so I said "Why don't you come over here and join us?" and she agreed.

Click. (End of phone call)

F##k. (Sudden realization)

The outhouse was sitting plain as day in our parlor. CRAP! (No pun intented.) I can't move this. What to do what to do what to do?!

I covered it with a tarp and called the guys. "Tammy's coming over and here's the story" . . . we played off the big green tarp colored box in the parlor as a shed being built for Mike's mother. If she should ask why is it covered, we'll say it smells of some sort of sealant.

So she comes over...."What's that?"

"It's an eye sore" I said, in an exasperated way, as if I had nothing to do with that monstrosity. And that was that.

Until other people came over and began to ask, "Where's the privy?" We quickly shushed them and brought them up to speed.

Okay, crisis averted and the surprise is still intact.

But now that the project was done - and in place - and time had passed....

WE'RE GETTING A LITTLE ANTSY ! To say the least.

So, I mailed a clue to Sarah.

The 10-J-Q-K-A of hearts, glued together as one would hold a poker hand, was mailed in a plain envelope, with no return address, just the name "Bess Tudor."

Then we drove all the way to Falling Water, W.Va. to mail it.

And then settled down to wait for the screamy phone call.

It was painfully evident to us that they would get it right away.

Royal FLUSH,
FALLING WATER!

It was brilliant.

Tap tap tap tap tap tap. SIGH.