We're back in Abby. I still hate the weather. Today, it's 31 degrees, which if you know me, is just as bad as rain. I'm so sticky. Yuck.
Anyway, here are a few highlights of our first weekend back to school.
Our 'friend' comes over (let's call him Ned). Let me start over. NED comes over since we haven't seen him in four months. We get to chattin', watching Track and Field (since that's the only good channel we have until Shaw calls back...and we all become scared enough to pee our pants a little when we catch sight of the shot-put women *shutter*), and then we decide to play Wii. Neh. We decide to play Wii ARCHERY. So I gear up to get roasted. Obviously, I will lose because I'm playing against two nerds. Ryan and Ned. However, I was pleasantly surprised to have SMOKED Ned in Wii Archery. You may applaud.
Then we go check out another friend's place. Let's call her Sarah. This year she lives off campus in a sweet place with sweet rent AND has a sweet car. Sarah is SWEET.
THEN another friend, let's call her Nancy, shows up, hugs us, and then proceeds to tell us how she ran out of shaving cream this morning and had to use dish soap. She said to us: "Now I smell like 'Sunlight'."
We love all three of them.
Since it's our 1st anniversary tomorrow, I thought it would be appropriate to do a recap of our first year as a married couple. For all you 'guys': Try and view this a sports highlight reel. For all you 'ladies': View this as a slow motion romantic reunion of a middle aged couple on a beach in a movie.
I thought I would maybe pair these 'recaps' with a little tidbit I've learned along with these experiences. (Feel free to click on the link to read the blog post to go with each tidbit)
1. Husbands absolutely HATE putting up Christmas decorations prior to December 1st.
2. Husbands can actually tune out things their wives say that would, in fact, be categorized as 'ridiculous'.
3. Husbands have more tolerance for government workers.
4. Husbands are not the only ones who forget anniversaries.
5. Husbands can, indeed, like IKEA given that they're taken at the appropriate time of day.
Cheers to continuous learning for the next 50 years of my life!
I'm dedicating this post to one of my few, hmm...avid? readers. Randy.
However, I ran into a bit of a dilemma: what should I write about. So I took a moment (as in a literal moment) and decided it should fall under the realm of one of these categories. The educational system. Hunting. Or pig roasts. Sadly, pig roasts are obviously out because of my last post. So I'll just cover the other two to compensate.
Hunting
I have little experience with this subject. Although, I have shot several guns: 12 gauge, .410, .22, and a pellet gun (if that even counts). I accept hunting as a means to fill my freezer; however, I don't like imagining shooting a victim that is completely oblivious to their unfortunate fate. (Blech, say that sentence ten times fast) So all I will say about this topic is regarding the Olympic event involving a very elegant sport (cross-country skiing) and a very NOT elegant sport. In the words of Jerry Seinfeld: "Cross-country skiing and shooting. Why not make it the breaststroke and strangle a guy?"
The Educational System
I present to you a timeline of the way a student sees their principal throughout their years of public schooling.
Kindergarten: The President.
Grade 3: The guy who can't sing the national anthem in tune every Monday.
Grade 6: The guy who sent me home to watch TV for three days because I kicked a soccer ball out the window.
Grade 9: The guy who sent me home to watch TV for three days because he caught me tee-peeing his car.
Grade 12: The guy who's signing the papers to get me the heck outta here.
Randy, you know I was never this student. Just thought I would remind you, as you may be my future employer.
Let's just take a moment to remember the book we all hated from high school: The Lord of the Flies. Ok, that's plently long enough. Try to get that nasty image out of your head of the boys dressed in leaves running around with a rotting skull stuck on a stick. Ah, high school, how I miss you.
ANYWAY, this weekend is our family's annual pig roast! And since it was canceled last year because of my marriage to my incredibly calm and completely sane husband, I'm doubly excited. My dad is the pig master. If he were a character in that horrible book, he would be Ralph.
Let me break this down for you because you're probably imagining one of two things:
Prespatou Style Pig Roast
A man shows up to school to pick up his children. Of course, he comes with the tractor. And obviously, it will have a dead, dripping, eyes-gaping pig hanging off the front. Yum. Not. (P.S.- This actually happened. Just sayin')
Townie Style Pig Roast
A man walks into Safeway and asks the butcher for a slab of ham. He greases it up and dumps it into a vat of boiling oil or something. Yum. Not.
INSTEAD:
A man, my dad, heats a 3 foot deep pit for 12 hours using a bon fire. He stokes the fire, heats up the rocks, and dresses the pig. The pig gets lowered into the pit at a brisk 7 a.m. and literally bakes inside the pit for 10 hours. Then we feast! YUM! YES!
Be jealous.
So I was paging through my old yearbook the other day, and I came across a short story I wrote in Grade 3 (age 8). I laughed out loud as I realized that I've kept the same style of writing since! However, my grammar, spelling, vocabulary, and sentence variety has much improved. I thought I would share it with you all:
Inside Out
One night I was sleeping and I had a dream. My shirt was inside out. My pants were inside out. Everything was inside out. The store was even inside out. I could not believe it. My pencil was inside out. "Mom", I called. My mom came into my room. My mouth dropped open. She was inside out. "Ahhhhhhh!" I screamed. Then I woke up. Boy was I ever huffing and puffing. "Mooom" I screamed. She said, "What happened?" "I had a bad dream." Then I put my shirt on inside out...
The End.
-Still not sure how a pencil, a store, and my mother could be inside out, but hey, at least I have an imagination.
P.S.- Still praying for Carly's family! Glad to see her mom is making a miraculous recovery!
Hi all.
I had an odd thought today (surprised?). Why do people name their inventions after other people, animals, or landscapes? Can't we come up with something original?
For instance, this is a Bobcat:
And what did we name after this cute, cuddly feline?
This:
Do you see the resemblance? I don't.
Another example: Ford.
Name after this man:
...Wait. I'm not sure which one is older...
And finally, this invention:
...was name after the island where the first atomic bomb was tested. That should say something.
Linguini, Martini, Bikini.
Today is my parents 30th wedding anniversary! Woohoo! Go Mom and Dad!
So I thought I take you all back to the place it all began: Prespatou....Kidding! How 'bout 1981?
Music: Jessie's Girl. (Mom, did you ever date a Jessie? Awkward)
Also, Journey's 'Don't Stop Believing', and obviously, my parents took that to heart :)
Fashion Trends: Everything you're NOT supposed to wear. Like this for example. Oh, Olivia, you look much better in 50's garb.
Additionally, hairstyles were, literally, at their biggest. And thanks to this lovely woman (you all know who she is), my mom was trapped inside her hair (exactly like this) on her wedding. But I'll save her the embarrassment and just show you this lady.
TV Shows: Three's Company, of course. 'Jack, eat your salad before it gets cold.' -Chrissy
I'll leave out snorkel goggle glasses for now. That picture would take up all the space for my wandering thoughts.
Anyway, it's quite a feat. Wishing you at least 30 more, Mom and Dad!
