My husband and sons’ annual Yellowstone camp out is coming up so my husband has to get completely caught up at work. This usually means we don’t see him the weekend before he goes somewhere.
Saturday, he had a couple hours break and we decided to go to a movie. I knew he wouldn’t have eaten yet, so while grocery shopping, I bought him his FAVE: Albertson’s Fried Chicken.
Then I snuck it in.
I’m just a girl. Going to a Movie. With a Book Bag.
I’m sure I didn’t look odd carrying a book bag into a movie.
It is the best place to read.
I just got the receipt for a fish my husband is having stuffed and mounted onto a plaque. I’m not sure if these are the correct terms, but my knowledge in this field is limited. And I wish it was more limited.
Because this is expensive.
I could buy 10 pairs of shoes. Or at least one.
I think he’s giving it to his mom for Christmas. I’m unsure if she reads my blog, but even if she does, I think one should be prepared if one is going to receive a large, dead fish as a gift.
If we are keeping it, it may end up at the lake. In a closet. In the garage.
Except that it cost so much to have it modge podged that we would have to hang it where people could see it.
Like at his office.
He scares kids there already, after all.
Welcome To Our Home
(Disclaimer: it is a huge fish and I may have asked if he was getting it mounted because it was so big and I would actually hang it up at the lake but how fun is that?)
Generally I tell people I’m a writer. Unless I tell them I’m a lawyer. Sometimes I’m unemployed. They’re all true. I guess the last one isn’t. I work for my husband now. I often look back on unemployment fondly.
I tell people I’m a writer because that’s what I truly feel I am. But people ask what I’ve written which is funny, actually. Because unless you’re JK Rowling, the likelihood that someone will recognize the title of something you’ve written is very small. Try it.
Tell someone you’re a writer and then make up a title. If a man asks, you could say, “The Lady’s Selection” and be pretty sure he won’t look it up. If it’s a woman, that’s a little harder. Try “The Bloodbath that is War.”
If I tell people I’m a lawyer, they ask me what type of law I practice. I think this is to see if they can get some free advice.
If I’m bored and tell people I’m unemployed, I’ll try and start a political debate and throw in the phrase: “what a fascist.” That can be really hard to do at times.
I try to avoid telling people I work with my husband’s books. Because that’s the truth.
And I went to 6 years of graduate school so I could make stuff up.
We are going backpacking as a family. I’m not sure what has come over us but I guess we’re trying to force nature on our children. It makes me feel better about letting small electronic devices occupy their time when I want a nap.
And to be honest, Kevin originally asked me if I wanted to go HIKING as a family. Then he told his friend we were going BACKPACKING. He didn’t think his change in vocabulary was that big a deal until I said I was going to buy a 2k cubic zirconia but was actually going to buy a 2k diamond.
I’m nervous about the backpack I’ll be wearing. Kevin has said it’s a horrible bag but now that we need me to wear it, he is now saying it’s horrible because it’s too small not because it’s a horrible bag. I’m usually not as picky on vocabulary as I have been recently. But if I have to carry all of my possessions on my back, I need an amazing backpack and I think that’s why the story has changed. Amazing backpacks come with an amazing price.
And we can’t afford it anymore. Not after my previous vocabulary lesson.
(Dear prospective thieves: I didn’t REALLY buy a 2k diamond. But it made for a better ending. If you look through my jewelry box, you will find the cubic zirconia. What if I just leave you a $20 on the front door?)
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Tagged backpacking, children, exercise, goals, hiking, husband, kids, marriage, motherhood, resolutions, summer, Travel, vacation
Lately I feel like I’ve gotten out of my comedy groove. I’ve been treading water and although I learned to swim, I didn’t properly learn how to tread water. It has something to do with moving your legs in different directions like egg beaters except that I don’t really use egg beaters unless I’m at my parents house and at home I just use a whisk and they don’t teach the ‘whisk’ way to tread water because you have two legs.
Let’s alter this metaphor. I feel as though I’m up to my eyes in life. Which also is technically not possible and I would come up with a better metaphor if I weren’t up to my eyeballs.
I had a week and I’m trying to bounce back and I can’t get enough air under me. I can see the humor in it all but I can’t make it funny. I feel like my squeaker is broken.
I threw 2 bday parties with over 13 kids each within 24 hours. I had to do forensic accounting and find missing money (which sounds cool but is really depressing.). An old friend decided to be ungracious, I woke up to be told I have skin cancer (minor, non-threatening, really just more of a pain kind) and then I got a migraine at the end of my triathlon.
There is TONS of material in here. I mean all of this happened within a week. And instead of it happening in 3’s, it happened in 6’s which just seems unfair and yet incredibly hilarious. It’s unfortunate I didn’t get it in pictures.
I am definitely learning that no matter what happens in life, we can’t judge other people because they may have woken up and realized that every single kindergartener was in fact coming to the birthday party that night and they only had 12 squirt guns. When faced with this type of pressure, a person is going to snap and it may happen while you’re watching.
So next time you find someone twitching while in line at Target, instead of passing judgement, pass them a Diet Coke.
(See? I just don’t have it. I think the migraine killed some brain cells.)
(I’m hoping the procedure to remove skin one layer at a time brings the funny back.)
Someone who does this to herself should never lose her comedy groove.
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Tagged blogging, friends, goals, husband, job, kids, marriage, mom, motherhood, sarcasm, stress