but I had to share this picture. I found it while snooping on my sister's Facebook page. I just love it, even though it is clearly staged. My sister doesn't usually drive really fast past cornfields with a lighter in her mouth. At least I hope not. You don't, right Naomi? Anyway, I think it kind of captures a youthful recklessness that I once enjoyed. Actually I never really enjoyed recklessness...I was always a little paranoid. I appreciate others' ability to enjoy youthful recklessness. Except of course my own children. For them, recklessness is forbiden. They haven't gotten that memo yet apparently because I was just called up to their room to fix the piece of furniture that somebody tipped over while attempting to climb. Either that or it was a ploy to get me to tuck them in one more time. And get them new books. And cold, cold water as cold as the arctic. Let's hope it was staged. Just like this photo.
My suer late homework courtesy of
This week's assignment: Write about a time you hid from someone, or a time you disguised who you really were. My response:
So remember my beautiful friend Megan? (You just saw her bachelorette picture in Wendesday's post.) We have known one another since I was born and she was two, so we have had countless adventures together. Countless. One such adventure took place circa 1993 in Philadelphia, PA. Megan's mother lived in this City of Brotherly Love and we decided to take a road trip via Greyhound to visit.
From the minute we boarded the bus, Megan and I assumed alternate personalities. We were now advocates for the National Beef and Poultry Association" and we were conducting research. Our main research question: When individuals are making a burger, do they prefer to "slap up their own patties" or "buy them pre-slapped"? As you can surmise, this was very impotant research. Very.
In order to gather data to answer this important question, we interviewed folks, clipboards in hand. I was in charge of the video camera, and Megan was on-air talent. The response was very interesting. Some respondents commented on "What a cool job" we had. Some folks would utter "This is ridiculous" and then proceed to answer the question with great sincerity and conviction. Others would offer culinary advice "well it depends...if I am making Turkey Burgers, I always add an egg". Regardless, we reached a conclusion: the majority of individuals interviewed during this groundbreaking survey prefer to "slap up their own patties".
As an adult looking back, I have to wonder what these respondents were thinking. Did they really believe that we were representatives for the National Beef and Poultry Association? Is there a National Beef and Poultry Association? Were they just humoring us? What on earth were these people thinking when approached by two awkward pre-teens asking about their meat preferences?
So, that's my story. A time in my life when I pretended to be someone I am not.
Courtesy of: 
A few months ago, I went to my dear friend Megan's East Coast bachelorette party. That is Megan on the right. Isn't she cute? My sister (and polar opposite of me in every way) was my designated driver. She is only 20, so she just dropped me off and picked me up later at the bar. I BEGGED her to come in despite the fact that she was wearing Crocs and gym shorts. Thankfully, she obliged. So, we threw a feather boa on her and took this lovely picture. Isn't she cute too? So, there you have it. Two of my favorite people who live on opposite coasts in the same place at the same time.
I am participating in Angie's Wordful Wednesday this week. Why not, you know?
This photo was taken of me this summer when I was in Seattle. My oldest, dearest friend Megan was getting married at the coolest venue you could ever imagine. It was a huge building owned by a movie set designer and had big multi-colored paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling and a really cool atmosphere all around. Megan looked so, so beautiful. My pictures of the wedding itself turned out kind of lousy since my camera sucks in dark-ish lighting, but it was a really cool ceremony and I will post a picture or two as soon as I have the opportunity to snag a decent one from someone else's flikr. Oddly enough, the pictures of me posing next to a rusty car after drinking several glasses of wine turned out just fine.
It seems as though I drink a lot of wine when I am in another city with no chance of driving and no kids to watch. Especially when it is free. And delicious. It kind of gave me a boost to know that, given the right conditions, I can still party like I used to. But I also realize how lonely it would be to spend my life partying all the time in a strange city with no car and no kids to watch. So, overall, I learned that I wouldn't trade my life for any other...but it is really nice to get a break from it sometimes.
For my wedding shower, my in-laws bought us an awesome vacuum cleaner. My father in law is the kind of guy that will extensively search online before making a purchase. FIL searched and searched for the best vacuum cleaner to give to his youngest son and his blushing bride. I wasn't really blushing, but whatever.
Anyhoo, this particular vacuum cleaned my carpet as if it had been bitten by a snake and the particles on my floor contained the antidote. If I were the Federal Government, I would have called it NCLB (No Crumb Left Behind). NCLB and I were in the honeymoon stages for some time. Don't get me wrong, we had our ups and downs: the occasional belt mishap, the obligatory bag change, an unfortunate event involving a tightly wound elastic thread. But together, we got through it. We persevered through the tough times and NCLB always came out victorious in the battle of the crumbs.
It is sad to say, but the time has come for us to part ways. NCLB is now just an empty shell of what it once was. We no longer respect one another, and I often find myself cursing it in my head. It was a hard decision, but I can no longer stand idly by while NCLB performs poorly.
I have not yet broken the news to FIL. I know it will be as hard on him as it has been on me. The good news is, bogger extraordinaire Kathy over at Mama's Losin It is giving away a NEW VACUUM. I think she can kind of read my mind. Plus she is pretty. And a great writer. And I bet she can sing well and is really fun at a party. I am not just saying that because you are having a contest and I want extra points, Kathy. I really think you would be a great partygoer. And that is a very big compliment coming from me, because I am an awesome party guest, so I know how to spot this quality in a person.
When I report NCLBs expiration to FIL, I am hoping to be able to accompany this news with the announcement that I have also won a contest and a new vacuum. I think it will soften the blow.
It's that time again, folks. Behold, my weekly writing assignment courtesy of :
I chose the following prompt:
Do you have reoccurring dreams? What are they about?
WARNING: There is a little bit of gross-ness in this post. Nothing too bad, but I felt the need to warn you.
I do not currently have any recurring dreams, but there was a time in my life that I did. When I was a kid, I would have the strangest dream every time I was sick. Every single time. For about 5 years. It is more bizarre than you can imagine, which is why I can still see it all so vividly.
I am standing on a giant green surface. The green is sort of a felt-like material, but very textured. Kind of like a soft-ish astroturf. There are people around me, but they don't seem to be doing much of anything. They are just kind of milling around, and none of them look familiar. I take their lead and wander around for a while too until I realize that I am actually standing on a giant pool table. I find this out when a ball comes toward me at lightning speed. I run into one of the pockets and save myself. At this point, I would usually wake up, walk into my parents room, and throw up on the floor. Which meant I had actually walked past the bathroom. Why didn't I just go in there to throw up?
Anyway, I would go back to bed, fall asleep, and the dream would continue. I am standing in darkness in front of the doors of a very scary, extremely precarious church. It is a very tall and lopsided structure with uncomfortable angles sticking out every which way. The door is open and the light inside draws my attention to the crooked, rickety stairs going from the doorway all the way to the top. There is a Frankenstein-like monster holding a piano and trying to make his way up the stairs. He is groaning and sweating and drooling. He drops the piano down the steps and it comes, noisily plummeting, towards me. I stand at the bottom of the stairs paralyzed with fear. Then, I wake up and get sick again. This time, I destroy my entire bed. And at least a little bit of the carpet. Right next to the giant bucket my mom has provided for this exact purpose.
When I finally get back to sleep, I am now standing in line at a store. There's a long line of people ahead of me, but nobody is buying anything. Everyone walks up to the cashier and hands her a key. She tries to put it in the register and it doesn't fit. They walk off disappointed. Finally, it is my turn. I hand her my key and she puts it in the register. It fits! She congratulates me and there are bells ringing and all kinds of confetti and celebration. I feel pretty uneasy, but go along with the people who lead me to my prize.
They open up a door to a room and I go inside. I am standing in the clouds. There are pillows and feathers and lots of white and softness. Everything is weightless and perfect. There are children around me squealing with joy, throwing feathers into the air. Laughter and happiness surround me. I feel like I should love it. Except I effing hate it. I can't stand it in this cloud room. I want to get out of here. But how? I begin to sob. Not just cry, I actually sob. This is how I wake up, tears streaming down my face. Just in time to run into the bathroom. And I actually get there in time for a change.
So that's it. Weird, isn't it?
I am participating in Wordful Wednesday this week. It is for people who couldn't possibly just post a picture without some sort of explanation. Which describes me exactly. Thanks Angie :).
The following picture represents the fruits of our labor and the success that was our ill-fated garden. We actually got real crops this year! Peppers, tomatoes, a coupla green beans, and herbs. The secret this year was that Andy was in charge of them. Worked like a charm.
It felt really good to use our own produce. Kind of makes me want to move to a farm. If Andy took care of it, of course.
