On election night I told Christopher that Elizabeth wrote me in for treasurer when she voted.
"It's a good thing I didn't win because there's no way in the world I could be treasurer," I said. "I'm way too bad at math for a job like that."
"But you are treasurer. You're treasurer of the FRG." He said.
"NO I AM NOT! I never agreed to that!"
"Yes you did. You said you'd be willing to do it if there wouldn't be any public speaking involved. You said you wanted to help out."
"I do want to help out and I did say I might be willing to do it, but under certain conditions! I never finally agreed to it."
"Well, your name is on all the paperwork as treasurer."
So I, the person who does her personal finances on index cards, the person who's not good at math, the person who never actually agreed to be treasurer is now in charge of government funds. Although it's not like I can possibly make things worse, given the current money troubles of the country.
ps. Look at that picture again. I lost to a democrat. That's what they call adding insult to injury.
I feel like it would be extremely obvious to start off by saying, "Well, yesterday we celebrated Thanksgiving."
So I won't say that.
Wednesday night we drove up to Christopher's parents in Mississippi. We played Let's See Who Can Make a Cough Drop Last the Longest on the way up. That was probably a step down from the karaoke game we played on our last road trip, but we both came down with terrible colds so singing was out of the question. Nothing like ushering in the holiday season with a bottle of Robitussin in one hand and an economy pack of cough drops in the other!
Despite being in a clariton/benadryal/sudafed/cough medicine induced haze, I insisted on spray painting pinecones gold and stopping at the Dollar Tree (clearly I shop at only high-end stores) for a few Thanksgiving decorations.
It's really not Thanksgiving until every dish you own is being used and the counters are packed.
I made my world famous, top secret recipe from the back of the Ocean Spray bag cranberry sauce.
To prepare ourselves for the meal, we all took a nap before eating. I'm a fan of naps whenever possible so naturally I didn't complain.
And that was Thanksgiving. Very quiet (I've never spent the day with so few people) and very nice.
You all have a lovely weekend. If you need me, I'll be polishing off my bag of 80 cough drops.
After much discussion, we came to a compromise. I kept reminding myself of our wedding vows when we said "in war and in peace" because I really didn't want a war to break out over decor. We decided to purchase some Monet waterlilies because we are classy and sophisticated and if we're going to hang up art we might as well do it right. It also may have had something to do with a movie I watched when I was little about a little girl who goes into a Monet waterlily painting and it was so beautiful I wanted to try it myself. (My younger self wanted to go into the painting, not my current age self. I'm not trying to use my living room as a place to create my own version of walking through the wardrobe into Narnia. I thought that was an important point to clarify.)
When the artwork came in and we were taking it out of the box, Christopher said, "We might have to look on the website to see which way is up and which way is down." I replied that we wouldn't have that problem if we were hanging pictures of those near and dear to our hearts, NOW WOULD WE?
Here's the living room wall in question before the redecorating.
You know what we shouldn't go into business doing? Hanging up art. At one point we had to use a curtain rod to line up the frames. So much for being classy and sophisticated.
Yes, I realize the walls look like a totally different color in the pictures.
Whenever I hear the name Monet I think of Brian Regan.
The other week I informed Christopher that I liked living here. I followed that up by saying that 75% of why I like it is because of Jenn and her squishable, kissable munchkin children.(It took me a while to think of reasons to fill in the other 25%.) She's one my favorite parts of living Fort Campbell. She was one of the top two reason I was happy to move here (the other was we probably won't have to pack up our entire lives and move for three more years).
We communicate multiple times every day. In fact, we've sent 725 texts between the beginning of October and today. Christopher and I have only sent 262. All I have to say about that is clearly Christopher is not the one I turn to when a blogger is causing drama (Jenn and I love a good blogging drama) or when I would like to discuss the pros and cons of trying to get a job helping out Josh Turner when he goes on tour. (Surely he needs a backup singer.) With 725 texts, it's no wonder Jenn is the main recipient of errors courtesy of my autocorrect.
But I informed her about National Chocolate Day so as a whole she overlooks my errors.
Happy birthday, Jenn. Thanks for having us over when we were strange people from off the internet. Thanks for taking me wogging (walking/jogging), pumpkin patching, and letting me have free access to all the gluten free food Sam won't eat. Thank you for introducing me to the wonders of REAL yoga pants. I'm wearing them now in honor of your big day.
When Mom had her surgery a few weeks ago, I made myself the Official Moral Booster thanks to what I consider my fabulous bedside manner. Unfortunately, every time she laughed she felt like her insides were about to be on the outside. That didn't stop me from showing her some of my favorite humorous pictures.
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Last Saturday night I had a little bridal shower for Katie. I can't go to her real bridal shower at the end of the month, so I invited her over for a very small shower. And by 'small' I do mean small. It was just the two of us, Mom, Dad and Elizabeth. Yes, Dad attended his very first (and probably only) shower. I think he attended because the shower was held in his living room while he was sitting in his recliner.
We started off the evening by going back in time to a pose used during our photo shoots of the mid-2000's. Not sure where we picked that up (I'm pretty sure it was during the phase when we called everyone dude), but it's become one of the many quirks of our 22 year friendship.
We thought we looked so cool back then.
Katie has always said that when she had her own home, she wanted colorful bottles to put on the windowsill. I forgot all about that until I happened to walk by a shelf of colorful bottles at Hobby Lobby. I'm so glad I found them because I really didn't want to give her a whisk or potholder.
If you look closely, you can see that the sign behind us says Katie & Sarah, not Katie & Zac. That was done on purpose. Quite simply, I was at the shower and Zac was not. Besides, people have been saying "Katie and Sarah this" and "Katie and Sarah that" for so long that it still seems weird to stick Zachary's name in there.
Here we are circa 1994. At the risk of sounding boastful, I'm just going to go right out and say we were pretty cute.
Every time I go home for a visit, I have a debate with myself about how many pictures to post. Debating with myself usually means I go around and around in circles and is generally very dizzying.
I surprised Autumn with a visit on her 22nd birthday. When we were little I felt like I was at least 12 years older than her. I considered her A CHILD. She's not even two years younger than me. Funny how growing up closes age gaps.
Elizabeth and I had a fall photo shoot.
Molly, the meek and mild cousin who is the epitome of seriousness, stopped by for a visit. I could only get a good picture by doing a silly one first.
Looks like this goat at the zoo has posed for the camera before.
Listen. I've said it before and I'll say it again- people in New England have no business saying y'all. This sign was outside the tiny exhibit that housed the tiny alligator. Across from the alligator was a sign that said, "Get your gator gumbo here!". Since when do people in Massachusetts eat gator gumbo? It's like I don't even know my homeland anymore.
Look how excited Aaron is to pose with me! The excitement! Can't be contained! (Just between us, I think he makes a pretty good bat.)
I learned a new joke from Elizabeth. Why don't seagulls fly over the bay? Because then they'd be BAYGULLS!
Turns out I crack up at jokes told around the snack table at preschool.
1. Pillows and slippers. Duel-purpose as they can be used for both comfort and throwing at the tv in moments of stress. Sheep slippers are purely optional, but they make the whole experience a lot cuter.
2. Snacks. They don't have to be healthy because if you're guy loses, you might need to eat some comfort food. If he wins (and lets face it, mine seldom does), you'll have something to celebrate with. Either way you eat something so it's a win-win. Eating leftover chocolate from National Chocolate Day means you're being extra patriotic.
3. Appropriate dress and jewelry.
4. (not pictured) A viewing partner. Lucky Christopher gets to experience election night with me for the first time. The poor guy has no idea what he's in for.
Guess where I am. Never mind, I'll just tell you because you probably wouldn't guess. I'm back in the land of my birth, helping out while Mom has surgery. (Not helping with the surgery, naturally. Helping out with the people left at home.) I'll save you the trouble of calculating the last time I was here. It was only last month so yes, I am doing my part to keep the airline business flying high.
The first half of the trip had nothing out of the ordinary. I did have a small conundrum because my itinerary said no plane switch in Charlotte (the city of my layover), but I didn't know if that meant I wasn't to leave the plane, or that I was to get off and re-board at the same gate. It was all very confusing so I asked for help from no less than four different people. Christopher had told me to BE BOLD ABOUT GETTING INFORMATION so I thought asking four people was going above and beyond. Two said I should stay on the plane and the other two said I could get off if I so desired. Turns out I so desired. I exited to eat a quick lunch then hurried back on the plane. I headed for seat 18A only to discover someone sitting in my seat. One thing worth knowing about me is that once I do something/sit somewhere/park somewhere/etc. I will do so in exactly the same manner for the foreseeable future. (Take my parking spot at Hobby Lobby for example. I park in the same place 99% of the time because it's where I parked the first time I went there. Feel free to call me slightly OCD.) I made a big show of pulling out and pretending to investigate my ticket then turned to the boy in seat 18A and man in 18C and said, "Um (I am so eloquent!), I think that's my seat." The man started waving his arms around and the boy said, "He's deaf."
That was an unexpected development.
I wasn't sure if they were both deaf or just the man, so I muttered that really, it wasn't the end of my world as I knew it if I had to give up my coveted window seat, the seat I had just sat in for two hours, and had to sit between two strangers.As I maneuvered myself and my bag in, the boy held up a tin and said, "Do you mind?" I barely saw what he held up and from the way he was holding the tin in his hand it looked just like the licorice mint tins that are sold at CVS. I couldn't care less whether he had a mint so naturally I said no. Turns out he was asking if I minded if he enjoyed a little chewing tobacco during the flight. Unexpected development #2. He popped a nice wad in his mouth than passed the tin over to his father, the deaf man.So there I was, sitting between two tobacco chewing (and spitting) men. It was just as lovely as it sounds.
As we took off, the son looked at me and made the following remark: "It was the Warner brothers who were the first to fly, right?" I believe it was the Wright brothers, but nice try. Around this time I decided to reveal that I have a passable knowledge of sign language. I spelled my name to the deaf man and he just about fell off his seat. He was so delighted that he processed to sign to me for the rest of the trip. I understood about half of what he signed and his hearing son translated the rest. It was a nice arrangement for a while. I could practice sign language and he had someone to visit with. Darrell told me he was on the way to his daughter's wedding and that while he had been married three times, he was now divorced. At least that's what I got from the signing. It looked like he broke the neck of one and cut off the head of the other, but I believe the general gist was they were no longer together. I considered asking if people ever call him Henry VIII, but after the Warner Brothers confusion I didn't want to push their knowledge of historical figures.
I don't think Darrell had flown since 1982 because he whacked my leg every time the plane moved in an unusual way. He would whack my leg every time he wanted to tell me that all we could see out the window were clouds. After he told me, he would swing his arm across my chest and whack his son David so he could see the clouds. David fell asleep partway through the flight which I found annoying. I don't think you should take up a window seat if you don't even plan on looking out the window. Some of us don't sleep on planes and we would appreciate the view. After almost two hours Darrell and I had discussed everything possible given my limited vocabulary. I could have asked, "Do you like bacon?" but I try not to bring up food all the time. I started reading the Sky Mall magazine but Darrell kept whacking my leg or reaching across me to whack David so I didn't get too far. Eventually I had it. It wasn't the fact that David was in my window seat, or the fact that our row had the overwhelming scent of chewing tobacco. It wasn't even that they kept spitting into their little cups (although that was annoying). It was the constant whacking and poking I received from a total stranger for 3 hours, 23 minutes. Whack. "Do you work?" Poke. "How many children do you want?" Whack David. "Do you see the clouds?" Whack "Does your husband smoke?" Poke. "Do you like fishing?" Whack. "Are you ok?" It took everything in me not to shout, "NO I'M NOT OK!! I REALIZE WE'RE PACKED IN HERE LIKE SARDINES BUT YOU'RE INVADING MY PERSONAL BUBBLE!" I just nodded. It was a whole lot easier than attempting to spell it all out one letter at a time.
Army wife, mother, borrower of all the cute children I come across, laugh-er at very inopportune moments, and matchmaker. I am an excessive user of commas, parentheses, italicizing, and exclamation marks. I'm proud to say I can hang a spoon from my nose. Clearly my talents are just endless.