In honor of the holiday season I made this video with the naked Indiana Jones action figure I found at the salon while waiting for the kids to get their hair cut.
But, since I run a family blog, I made him put his clothes on first.
And, obviously, by 'in honor of the holiday season' I mean, "Dang! Do you know how much stuff I still have to get done!?!"
UPDATE:
Apparently Indiana Jones hates Apple products, and possibly all technological mobile devises, which, let's face it makes him even awesomer than he was before, so, I'll just leave the video link right here.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Holiday Office Party Survival Tips You Can Actually Use
You know what's not useful? Lists people post on the Internet around the holidays entitled "How to Survive The Office Christmas Party in 12 Easy Steps". First off, 12 is way too big of a number of steps for my caffeine* ravaged brain to handle. Second, they all seem to offer useless advice like "You have to go" and "Ask people questions" or, my favorite, "Don't photocopy your butt", because, Dude, hasn't every sitcom in the world addressed this party faux pas like a thousand times? So, I'm making my own list. Because it's Christmas, and I stupidly followed all those bossy people on the Internet's first tip of "You have to go" and attended Jon's work party last weekend, and, really, what else was I supposed to do there?
Rule #1: Dress fancy.
Rule #1: Dress fancy.
And fancy has rules. Apparently. For instance, items on the "approved fancy list": 1) your grandmother's art deco necklace, 2) dresses you didn't buy in 1999, 3) heels. On the other hand, items on the "not approved fancy list": 1) the comfy sweater your aunt knitted your grandpa in 1972, 2) your jumping jack Santa pin you've had since you were six, 3) TURKEY! hats, 4) anything you wore to the holiday party last year, 5) running shoes. In other words, I had to go shopping this year. Because Mabel, Geraldine and Belinda made me.
Rule #2: Brush up on your baby sign language.
This is especially useful if it's one of those lame office parties with like, music and a dance floor and stuff, because communicating to your spouse that "shoes hurt" and "want cookie" is a lot less embarrassing if you don't have to yell.
This is especially useful if it's one of those lame office parties with like, music and a dance floor and stuff, because communicating to your spouse that "shoes hurt" and "want cookie" is a lot less embarrassing if you don't have to yell.
Rule #3: Wear a slip.
Seriously, get one, even if you have to rip the last slip JC Penney has on their shelves out of a 90 year old woman's hands. Because, eventually, sometime during the night it will totally cover your butt. Literally. Because of science. And wool coats. And because, inevitably, the restroom will be located on the complete other side of the bar. Where all the people are. That you have to walk past. Because of science again, or really psychology, which is "almost real science" according to Jon.
Seriously, get one, even if you have to rip the last slip JC Penney has on their shelves out of a 90 year old woman's hands. Because, eventually, sometime during the night it will totally cover your butt. Literally. Because of science. And wool coats. And because, inevitably, the restroom will be located on the complete other side of the bar. Where all the people are. That you have to walk past. Because of science again, or really psychology, which is "almost real science" according to Jon.
Rule #4: Pack extra panty hose.
Also, I shouldn't even have to say this, but, it's totally true. Because you never know.
Also, I shouldn't even have to say this, but, it's totally true. Because you never know.
Rule #5: Bring one of those over the door restroom hooks.
Because washing your hands with your purse, coat and scarf clenched between your knees while balancing on three inch heels is hard. Plus, when women walk into the restroom to find you splayed against the wall, heels askew, coat dropped on the floor, scarf between your teeth, giggling, and insisting "I haven't even had my one glass of wine yet!" they totally don't believe you. At. All.
I did think about making my list all even and adding a Rule #6 about how to converse easily with people you don't know in holiday party situations. But, after spending the night making socially awkward hand gestures, mooning everyone, and finding myself practically sprawled on the restroom floor, it was probably best the DJ was too busy bustin' the Christmas tunes to really have a chance to engage people in conversation, so we left. Plus, it was like 9:30 and the coffee carafe was empty. Strangely enough.
Because washing your hands with your purse, coat and scarf clenched between your knees while balancing on three inch heels is hard. Plus, when women walk into the restroom to find you splayed against the wall, heels askew, coat dropped on the floor, scarf between your teeth, giggling, and insisting "I haven't even had my one glass of wine yet!" they totally don't believe you. At. All.
I did think about making my list all even and adding a Rule #6 about how to converse easily with people you don't know in holiday party situations. But, after spending the night making socially awkward hand gestures, mooning everyone, and finding myself practically sprawled on the restroom floor, it was probably best the DJ was too busy bustin' the Christmas tunes to really have a chance to engage people in conversation, so we left. Plus, it was like 9:30 and the coffee carafe was empty. Strangely enough.
*Fun fact: I only drank coffee in actual coffee shops before I had kids. So, if you think about it, having kids basically drove me to drink.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
UPDATE: Teach Your Children Well, Because We All Know I Didn't Learn It The First Time Around
I was never very good at math. In fact, teeeeechnically, if you insist on using a traditional grading system, I never learned my 6, 7, and 8 multiplication facts. And I only passed my 9s because my best friend taught me that finger trick, which, has seriously, been invaluable in my day to day life. And really, I'm not sure how I actually passed third grade math, let alone earned a college diploma in Elementary Education that says I'm competent enough to teach the subject. So, you can imagine my absolute delight when on the day of my marriage to Jon I realized that not only did I marry a pretty awesome guy (yadda, yadda, insert heart warming mushy gushy stuff here) BUT I now had my own live in human calculator! The bliss! The joy! Never to have to figure out how much to tip a server again! Never have to add fractions while doubling recipes! Percentages! Areas! Averages! Means! Exponential Models! Periods of a periodic function! Directrixations of parabolas! FOCAL RADII! The idea of all that bonus marital mathematical freedom was absolutely intoxicating!
And short lived.
Because, apparently, Jon doesn't appreciate random equations being verbally lobbed into his "internal intellectual space". He also doesn't appreciate it when I try to pass off phrases I make up, like "internal intellectual space" for example, as something he's said. However, if I've learned anything in this past decade plus of marriage, it's that it's all about compromise. Jon.
I'm sure you can imagine, and sympathize with, the awkward social situations I have had to, literally, struggle through these past years. And, no, your imagination is not exaggerating, it has been that bad. But, then, at the store yesterday, as I was hoisting on my grocery filled backpack (with a very womynly grunt) and wondering how heavy it was and dreading the tediousness of all the math I would have to do by myself when I got home, adding up the weight of each and every item, I realized, dude, this is what I had kids for!
So, when Katie got home from first grade, I had this SUPER FUN MATH PROJECT waiting for her on the kitchen table:
So, when Katie got home from first grade, I had this SUPER FUN MATH PROJECT waiting for her on the kitchen table:
Mommy and Eleanor went to the store to buy groceries. When mommy checked out and loaded all the groceries in her backpack she said, "MAN! This backpack must weigh 637 pounds!" Was mommy right? If not, how heavy was her backpack? Use the table to solve the problem.
And, with a smile, that girl sat down at the table and totally figured it out!
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Dudes. I'm soooo getting that human calculator!
UPDATE:
You know the old saying, "A calculator doesn't make you smarter, just prettier"? Let's just say, I used a calculator to check Katie's work and my eyes looked completely amazing while doing so. My hair was shiny and bouncy too.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
The Kids Woke Up And It's Not Morning Anymore But I'm Posting This Anyway BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO DO!
It's morning. Here I sit, sunlight ACTUALLY peaking through the Seattle cloud cover (I know! Gasp!), dishwasher still loaded, laundry sitting in piles by the washer, still to do Thanksgiving shopping list ripped, crumpled and left carelessly under the kitchen table because Ellie needed it to, wait... no, she said that, um she wanted... you know, I don't know, it's still readable so, whatever, it's all good. I was going to pretend that my coffee wasn't even brewed yet, to lend, you know, credibility to the whole early morning things left undone montage I had going on here, but, then, as I paused to bolt back the dregs of my first cup I realized, dude, one, you're trying too hard and two, no one with even the most basic understanding of the editing process is going to believe that I've been up for longer than 10 minutes without a cup of coffee in my hand. Unless I'm running. Because running and hot coffee don't go together. At all. Because of all the sloshing the boiling hot liquids like to do even if you run with your green travel mug your mom got you for Christmas that has a really good lockable sippy top. Not that I've tried it. More than once. Twice. OK, fine, maybe just that whole first month of November after we moved to this cold and rainy state. In my defense though, it was cold. And rainy. And cold....
Anyway.
As I was saying:
The sun is up, kinda, I'm sitting on my butt, I'm not unloading the dishwasher or doing other stuff but I've made coffee and I'm drinking it, you know, blah blah blah, enjoying the quiet house, blee blee blee, there is a peace when little bodies are sleeping, yada yada.
And? Cue the pitter patter of little demanding feet in 5,
4,
3,
2,
1!
--------------------------
--------------------------
--------------------------
-------huh---------------
------that's weird----------
(Looks over shoulder) Dude! I think they're still sleeping!
Ok, look, don't get me wrong here. I love my children. Heck, it's Thanksgiving tomorrow, obviously I'm even thankful for them too. They're fun, beautiful, hard working, imaginative, helpful, kind little girls. I mean, they're sooo way better than any other kid in our entire whole world wide universe and all the others including z8_GND_5296! You know, that universe way over there. (points really far away)
Dude! Seriously? Just step away from the very sharp ornamental pitchfork you propped artistically by the pumpkins and sheaves of wheat by the front door. Obviously I didn't mean your kids (places hand over mouth) I meant their kids (gestures with eyes, pretends to be a ventriloquist) over there. Plus? Impaled entrails don't usually go over as well with guests before they stuff themselves silly on sweet potatoes encrusted with a generous oozing of marshmallow...pustules.
(Insert awkward pause here while readers nod agreeably and reassemble their Thanksgiving Day displays. Or watch a video by The Original Schnickelfritz Band. Potato, Potata.)
Whew. Glad we cleared that up. Can we get back to talking about the awesomeness of my children now?
Because, dudes, Katie and Ellie are very excited for Thanksgiving and have written their own "List of Things She's Thankful For". They even made me do it. And. Yes. I'm going to share them with you. Because it's Thanksgiving and THIS IS WHAT YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO DO!
Oh, and, yeah, it was totally Katie's idea. How could you tell?
Wait! A! Minute! Katie didn't tell me I could write a humorous poem about a rhino climbing a tree and then accidentally falling on top of a lion! Dude. That kid is holding back on me.
In the spirit ofTHIS IS WHAT YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO DO Thanksgiving, you should add your list of things your thankful for in the comments. Or write a poem about a flamingo. Because apparently, according to Katie, that's totally fine too.
Anyway.
As I was saying:
The sun is up, kinda, I'm sitting on my butt, I'm not unloading the dishwasher or doing other stuff but I've made coffee and I'm drinking it, you know, blah blah blah, enjoying the quiet house, blee blee blee, there is a peace when little bodies are sleeping, yada yada.
And? Cue the pitter patter of little demanding feet in 5,
4,
3,
2,
1!
--------------------------
--------------------------
--------------------------
-------huh---------------
------that's weird----------
(Looks over shoulder) Dude! I think they're still sleeping!
Ok, look, don't get me wrong here. I love my children. Heck, it's Thanksgiving tomorrow, obviously I'm even thankful for them too. They're fun, beautiful, hard working, imaginative, helpful, kind little girls. I mean, they're sooo way better than any other kid in our entire whole world wide universe and all the others including z8_GND_5296! You know, that universe way over there. (points really far away)
Dude! Seriously? Just step away from the very sharp ornamental pitchfork you propped artistically by the pumpkins and sheaves of wheat by the front door. Obviously I didn't mean your kids (places hand over mouth) I meant their kids (gestures with eyes, pretends to be a ventriloquist) over there. Plus? Impaled entrails don't usually go over as well with guests before they stuff themselves silly on sweet potatoes encrusted with a generous oozing of marshmallow...pustules.
(Insert awkward pause here while readers nod agreeably and reassemble their Thanksgiving Day displays. Or watch a video by The Original Schnickelfritz Band. Potato, Potata.)
Whew. Glad we cleared that up. Can we get back to talking about the awesomeness of my children now?
Because, dudes, Katie and Ellie are very excited for Thanksgiving and have written their own "List of Things She's Thankful For". They even made me do it. And. Yes. I'm going to share them with you. Because it's Thanksgiving and THIS IS WHAT YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO DO!
Oh, and, yeah, it was totally Katie's idea. How could you tell?
Ellie's List Of Things She's Thankful For:
Family
Birds
Friends
Sweet food to eat
Books
A house to live in
Sisters
My List Of Things I'm Thankful For:
Family
Dry mornings for running
Hot coffee
Good books
Friends
Katie's List of Things She's Thankful For:
Family
Friends
Books
A cheetah jumps
A giraffe eats
A rhino sits in a tree
A lion roars
ROAR!
Wait! A! Minute! Katie didn't tell me I could write a humorous poem about a rhino climbing a tree and then accidentally falling on top of a lion! Dude. That kid is holding back on me.
In the spirit of
Friday, November 15, 2013
I Would Have Named Them Mr. Pickles And Anne Of Cleves, Respectively, But, Apparently, I'm Raising My Children In A Democracy
I've been lonely since we've moved. Which, with the overly numerous references to the collected works of LM Montgomery in my blog posts lately should catch none of you by surprise. I miss having "bosom friends"*. The kind of friends that I run into randomly at the grocery store, or get together with for cupcakes after picking Katie up from school, or wait in line with for the midnight showing of Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part 2 (I'm beyond your judgement, mock away!) or meet up with at 6am for a nine mile run on a Saturday morning, you know, the awesome kind of friends. Sigh.... In an I'm-eating-my-feelings-but-it's-kinda-ok-because-I-ran-hills-this-morning related note: it's a good thing Ellie talked me into buying this ginormous box of Cheez-Its because her Halloween bag is completely out of Recess Peanut Butter Cups. Because she's... um, you know, piggy like that. Also? That last sentence is what God invented grace for. Just sayin'.
But, dudes, just this last Monday? Mabel came for a visit and I got to pretend for a whooole day that I have a friend who lives close enough to help me use my coupon for a free inflatable fruitcake. A friend who didn't once ask "What are you going to do with a free inflatable fruitcake?" (It was more like, four times. But what ever.) And the answer is tons of things. Obviously. I mean, IT'S A FREE INFLATABLE FRUITCAKE! The question should be more like, what can't you do with a free inflatable fruitcake?
But seriously, we had a wonderful visit filled with coffee, conversation, card games, playing with Katie and Ellie at the park, Elvis French Toast for lunch and, the assortment of candied fruit sprinkled on top that totally made the day? A free inflatable fruitcake. Oh. And an inflatable flamingo. So the fruitcake didn't have to be lonely after Mabel finally went home.
And, that evening, after a quick naming contest, Boa the Flamingo and Ela the Fruitcake joined our family. Seamlessly.
Friendship. It's a beautiful thing.
*NOTE: The term "bosom friends" doesn't sound silly when you say it with an early 20th century literature accent. Or while dressed as Tom Hanks in drag.
But, dudes, just this last Monday? Mabel came for a visit and I got to pretend for a whooole day that I have a friend who lives close enough to help me use my coupon for a free inflatable fruitcake. A friend who didn't once ask "What are you going to do with a free inflatable fruitcake?" (It was more like, four times. But what ever.) And the answer is tons of things. Obviously. I mean, IT'S A FREE INFLATABLE FRUITCAKE! The question should be more like, what can't you do with a free inflatable fruitcake?
.JPG) |
| Because free inflatable fruitcakes are full of the awesome. |
 |
| Who, apparently, is a bit of a prima donna. I mean, dude, it's like she doesn't even want me IN the photo! |
*NOTE: The term "bosom friends" doesn't sound silly when you say it with an early 20th century literature accent. Or while dressed as Tom Hanks in drag.
Thursday, November 7, 2013
A Possible Premeditated Pedestal Tipping
The other evening I was literally ambushed by this conversation with Ellie:
Ellie: (walking into the kitchen as I'm cooking dinner with that serious look on her face, you know the one, the one she uses when she yells, "SWIPER NO SWIPING!" while watching Dora) Mommy? I pretty much only like Daddy.
Me: (continuing to slice apples, because I'm unflappable like that) You do?
Ellie: (crossing her chubby little arms over her chest) Yeah.
Me: (going there) Don't you like Mommy? (because, really, why wouldn't you)
Ellie: (without a pause) No. Not very much.
Me: (arranging the apple slices on a plate to look like flower petals) Why is that?
Ellie: (uncrossing her arms, hands balled into fists at her side) Because you button my top buckle on my car seat and I like to do it!
Later that weekend Ellie had this conversation with Jon while I was eavesdropping in the other room:
Ellie: (sweetly cuddling up to Jon on the couch) Daddy? I love you.
Jon: (leaning over to kiss Ellie's head) I love you too.
Ellie: (in her explaining voice) But I don't like Mommy. Not very much.
Jon: (in his explaining voice) Oh! But I do. I think she's very nice. She does many nice things for us and loves us very very much.
Ellie: (looking at Jon through squinty eyes as if he'd just told her he thought Dora The Explorer was boring) Ohhhh....
Then she scooted herself off the couch and left the living room. She may have walked backwards.
Me: (poking my head around the corner to look at Jon) Dude!
Jon: What?
Me: Aren't you even curious!?!
Then this morning, in the car, on the way home from swim lessons, I had this conversation with Ellie:
Ellie: (matter of factly, with just a tinge of wistfulness) I like to be with Daddy a lot.
Me: (reading the foreshadowing on the wall) You do, huh?
Ellie: (with all the love she can muster from her 30 pounds, so, obviously that means she needs to use her "outdoor voice") YEAH! A LOT!!
Me: (going there. yes, again.) Do you like to do things with Mommy?
Ellie: (without a pause) No. Not very much.
Me: Don't we do fun things?
Ellie: (again with the pauselessness) No.
Me: (in my "Oh no she didn't" voice) Didn't we play salon this morning and Mommy let you brush her hair and put in all these barrettes? Didn't we then play UNO MOO and you won, right? Then, I'm pretty sure, we read like five library books in a row all before going to swim lessons. Wasn't that fun?
Ellie: (like a robot, people, a Daddy-Is-The-Bestest-Thing-EVER-Nothing-Can-Compare-To-His-AWESOMENESS Robot, but with feeling) No.
Me: (my brain mumbling something about water and ducks) Why? What do you like to do with Daddy?
Ellie: (lighting up like Christmas! Like. Christmas. People. There may have been jazz hands.) We play marble track! I like to play MAAAARBLE TRACK!
Me: (with a large snort) So, what you're telling me is, that if I play marble track with you I'll be able to push Daddy out of that top tier of popularity? Then you'd like Mommy just as much as Daddy? That's all it would take?
Ellie: (pausing. thinking. pausing again. proceeding, with caution.) Yes. Because that would be fun.
Oh my goodness, guys!! Acclaim! Adoration! Approval! Favor! Esteem! The Eternal Regard and Renown of a three year old! All there for the taking! So tempting....
Me: You know what I think we should do when we get home, Ellie?
Ellie: (hopefully) What!?!
Me: Night night naps. Because Mommy is quite tired. (And then I faked a yawn.)
Eh. Eternal regard and renown is overrated anyway.
Ellie: (walking into the kitchen as I'm cooking dinner with that serious look on her face, you know the one, the one she uses when she yells, "SWIPER NO SWIPING!" while watching Dora) Mommy? I pretty much only like Daddy.
Me: (continuing to slice apples, because I'm unflappable like that) You do?
Ellie: (crossing her chubby little arms over her chest) Yeah.
Me: (going there) Don't you like Mommy? (because, really, why wouldn't you)
Ellie: (without a pause) No. Not very much.
Me: (arranging the apple slices on a plate to look like flower petals) Why is that?
Ellie: (uncrossing her arms, hands balled into fists at her side) Because you button my top buckle on my car seat and I like to do it!
Then she stalked out of the room.
Later that weekend Ellie had this conversation with Jon while I was eavesdropping in the other room:
Ellie: (sweetly cuddling up to Jon on the couch) Daddy? I love you.
Jon: (leaning over to kiss Ellie's head) I love you too.
Ellie: (in her explaining voice) But I don't like Mommy. Not very much.
Jon: (in his explaining voice) Oh! But I do. I think she's very nice. She does many nice things for us and loves us very very much.
Ellie: (looking at Jon through squinty eyes as if he'd just told her he thought Dora The Explorer was boring) Ohhhh....
Then she scooted herself off the couch and left the living room. She may have walked backwards.
Me: (poking my head around the corner to look at Jon) Dude!
Jon: What?
Me: Aren't you even curious!?!
Then this morning, in the car, on the way home from swim lessons, I had this conversation with Ellie:
Ellie: (matter of factly, with just a tinge of wistfulness) I like to be with Daddy a lot.
Me: (reading the foreshadowing on the wall) You do, huh?
Ellie: (with all the love she can muster from her 30 pounds, so, obviously that means she needs to use her "outdoor voice") YEAH! A LOT!!
Me: (going there. yes, again.) Do you like to do things with Mommy?
Ellie: (without a pause) No. Not very much.
Me: Don't we do fun things?
Ellie: (again with the pauselessness) No.
Me: (in my "Oh no she didn't" voice) Didn't we play salon this morning and Mommy let you brush her hair and put in all these barrettes? Didn't we then play UNO MOO and you won, right? Then, I'm pretty sure, we read like five library books in a row all before going to swim lessons. Wasn't that fun?
Ellie: (like a robot, people, a Daddy-Is-The-Bestest-Thing-EVER-Nothing-Can-Compare-To-His-AWESOMENESS Robot, but with feeling) No.
Me: (my brain mumbling something about water and ducks) Why? What do you like to do with Daddy?
Ellie: (lighting up like Christmas! Like. Christmas. People. There may have been jazz hands.) We play marble track! I like to play MAAAARBLE TRACK!
Me: (with a large snort) So, what you're telling me is, that if I play marble track with you I'll be able to push Daddy out of that top tier of popularity? Then you'd like Mommy just as much as Daddy? That's all it would take?
Ellie: (pausing. thinking. pausing again. proceeding, with caution.) Yes. Because that would be fun.
Oh my goodness, guys!! Acclaim! Adoration! Approval! Favor! Esteem! The Eternal Regard and Renown of a three year old! All there for the taking! So tempting....
Me: You know what I think we should do when we get home, Ellie?
Ellie: (hopefully) What!?!
Me: Night night naps. Because Mommy is quite tired. (And then I faked a yawn.)
Eh. Eternal regard and renown is overrated anyway.
Friday, November 1, 2013
WE HAD SUCH A GOOD TIME I HAVE TO TALK IN ALL CAPS!!!
There is a quote by Anne Shirley going around the PinINterest universe that says, "I'm so glad to live in a world where there are Octobers". Maybe it's my incessant reading of every book, short story and poem LM Montgomery has ever written these past few weeks* that has me agreeing 756,368,646.02% with LM (after all our late nights through the years, obviously, we're on a first and middle initial basis) or maybe it's because there is nothing like spending the weekend nestled deep in the autumn hued woods of rural Ohio with three beautiful women that have graced my life with their friendship since I was an awkward gangly teenager. Just! Like! Anne! Shirley! (squee!!)
OK. I'll stop now. But, really, mostly because when I tried to write an achingly beautiful tribute to my " Most Best Bestest Besties" by incorporating the imagery of an Ohioian fall it came out sounding like one of us had an incurable disease and only had three months to live. Because, apparently, the imagery of fall is depressing. Who knew!?!
See, while growing up in the desert I viewed fall as an awakening, an oasis, a promise of the blossoming of life! However, when you try to switch environmental habitat imagery you have to substitute out word pictures like "migratory birds, welcomed home by the cooling temperatures of the desert, flit in and out among the prickly pear fruit" for "leaves, cold and brown, crunching beneath our footsteps". And, you can totally tell where that would lead, right? Exactly. Straight to my kid's Halloween candy stash for just one more Recess Peanut Butter Cup hit. Because peanut butter and chocolate is like heroin, people. Heroin. And, remember, this is coming from a woman who has never taken illicit drugs in her life. Although... I did read all four books of Twilight....
Anyway, if I kept waxing poetic I'd never get to tell you all that:
I WENT TO OHIO AND WAS ALMOST KILLED BY A DEER HUNTER!!
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| But, probably only because I had the nerve to waltz around rural Ohio dressed in my vegetarian costume. You know the one. The one with the vintage 70s style dress, boots and yellow tights? Exactly. That one. |
Or that:
WHEN YOU NEED TO BUY COOKING SPRAY TO COOK BREAKFAST PANCAKES AND THE KROGER IS ONLY A MILE AWAY YOU CAN TOTALLY CONVINCE ONE OF YOUR " MOST BEST BESTEST BESTIES" TO RUN THERE INSTEAD OF DRIVING BECAUSE THEN, ON THE WAY BACK, YOU GET TO PRETEND YOU ARE PASSING THE OLYMPIC TORCH BACK AND FORTH ALONG THE SHOULDERLESS HIGHWAY WHILE GETTING STRANGE LOOKS FROM THE LOCAL FARMERS AS THEY SWERVE AROUND YOU IN THEIR PICKUP TRUCKS!
And I'd never be able to work in how:
MY "MOST BEST BESTEST BESTIES" AND I WERE ALMOST ABDUCTED BY ALIENS!
 |
| Because, dude, what kind of farmer uses a silo that looks like this? Exactly. An alien farmer, that's who. |
And, obviously the time:
WE ACCIDENTALLY TOOK A BABY INTO A BAR AND SOME GUY GAVE US HIGH FIVES! Because, really, how else are you going to bow out of that gracefully? Also? Bars in Ohio should be, like, way better marked at 5pm. Just sayin'.
Of course:
THE RATHER HEAVILY MOTH EATEN TAXIDERMIED TURKEY WE SAW IN THE NATURE CENTER AFTER OUR GORGEOUS AUTUMN COLOR HIKE WOULD HAVE FIT INTO MY ACHINGLY BEAUTIFUL TRIBUTE SEAMLESSLY!
And, I don't mean to be overly poetic or go off quoting LM Montgomery again by saying "True friends are always together in spirit." But with these women? I'm in it until the end with them.
WE ACCIDENTALLY TOOK A BABY INTO A BAR AND SOME GUY GAVE US HIGH FIVES! Because, really, how else are you going to bow out of that gracefully? Also? Bars in Ohio should be, like, way better marked at 5pm. Just sayin'.
Of course:
THE RATHER HEAVILY MOTH EATEN TAXIDERMIED TURKEY WE SAW IN THE NATURE CENTER AFTER OUR GORGEOUS AUTUMN COLOR HIKE WOULD HAVE FIT INTO MY ACHINGLY BEAUTIFUL TRIBUTE SEAMLESSLY!
 |
| However, on reflection, he may have looked a bit silly without being juxtapized next to the alien silo. But, then again, who doesn't? |
 |
| And now we have the "MOST BEST BESTEST BESTIES" bracelets to prove it. |
*Because it makes me feel romantic, and beautiful, and winsome and all those other words late 19th early 20th century writers like to use. So, shut up about it.
PS Please ignore my rudeness. I'm just utilizing an obviously unpoetic literary phrase to push you away and pretend I don't have ushuy gushy mushy feelings. See, I totally just did it again.
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