Category Archives: Party

10 sept 2018

What a weekend! Apart from hosting our first community group on Sunday where Ryan said he was thankful he doesn’t get nervous talking in front of people because my eyes were boring into him (I was a ball of nerves the whole evening, thankful though of how easily he can talk to groups) and coming down from the high of realizing how well we all did fit together, a group of believers in different stages of life committing our time to study and pray and support each other over the next year. Both tears and laughter were shed this first night and it’s amazing to me how quickly strangers can bond if only just a sliver of vulnerability is shown.

But aside from all that, Ruthie turned 7 today. She actually got teary-eyed last night, her last tuck-in as a 6 year old.

In an effort to push back against the me-me-me that we all have inside us and hoping they learn to appreciate experiences with only a few friends, I’ve pretty much opted out of parties. You know they’ll end up wanting the exact opposite later on and that’s fine too, just hoping a piece of this gets stuck in their psyche. Last year, Ruthie asked her friend Kalyn to go canoeing with their dads who are also good friends. Ryan was hoping that’d become a tradition, but this year we asked if Kalyn could spend the night on Saturday and she did! They chased after cats and fireflies, helped me make noodles for dinner, tore apart a pinata, and had a pillow fight. 

Ryan slept.

They all crashed in one big bed after watching a movie and woke up in the morning when Annie farted really loudly.

Our favorite donut shop was closed this morning, so we had to forgo our donut tradition and had chocolate chip pancakes instead, Ruth’s second favorite.

I asked Ruthie to choose a couple friends from school to take through a drive-thru safari today. I decorated the van with streamers and leaned into the jabbering that only 7 year olds can create. Their endurance is admirable.

Annie thought it was her birthday because I let her sit up front with me during the safari.  She couldn’t believe how big the windshield window was. The emus made us scream and anytime we saw one ahead, the race to roll up all the windows and hide below the window was intense. But my favorite moment was when an employee cut up an apple, opened up the gates just for us to feed the giraffe and they all ooohed and ahhhed….over the cat lying on the bench. That literally proves that you don’t have to do jack for a good time at this age. My gawd, Ruth, you have four cats at home.

As I’m typing this, I hear classical music in the living room along with squeals and laughter and I’m imagining them reenacting their ballet class with dear-ole-dad.

Thankful for another year with my kind, shy, funny Ruthie. I like you.

Friends and Sloth

It’s already been a week two weeks since Ruthie’s 3rd birthday and I can tell she’s already growing up. When I tell her the show is over and time to go to bed: “Mommy you have GOT to listen to me. There was still some show left. You’re just not listening to me.” Or justifying her poo-poo jokes by saying “You don’t think it’s funny, but I do.” Well, dang. How can I argue with that?!  But then there are moments like tonight in our (non-existant) garden where she digs a hole, runs to bring water in the watering can, and pours it over her hole. I ask what she’s growing…. “A fairy god-mother.” I simultaneously go awwwww and then say Yeah, good luck with that one. The deer will eat her before you get a Bibbidy-Bobbidy.

Anyway, back to her birthday. I had what I was calling a glorified play date with her friends… because it’s time she learns, if she hasn’t already (we all remember the Mary Poppins shenanigans), that her mom is not creative in a crafty way. In my head I’m creative, it’s just hard to connect that thought to my fingers.  My email to the moms started off with a goonies reference, which then spurred a mom to post a still from the movie.

Hmmmm…..

Yep, I’m going for it. When was the last time kids played pin the tail on anything? I’m bringing it back!

I went to Staples and bought their $3 engineer print of that pic, and that night Ryan and I started coloring it. After watching him use 4 different colors to create a skin tone, I grabbed the dang peach pencil and went to town. Seriously. It’s 3 year olds, Ryan.

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURESI decorated the backyard which to me means moving chairs around and plopping her easle nearby. Done.
SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURESHere it is kids… don’t be scared.

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Oh, hold up. I did do a pinterest activity. Fishing poles with magnets to catch fish with paperclips. Yeah, I think only one fish was caught, and that’s because the magnet was already attached. Whatever, I tried.
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It was pretty low key. We sang to Ruthie immediately, during which she looked at me to sit next to her. I was just happy she stayed there and didn’t cry. She’s been regressing a little into a shyer version of her once outgoing self. But I get it. I’m one way with a group, and another one-on-one. I’ll sit next to ya, girl, don’t worry.

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURESThen we just played and talked. Some of the boys were throwing pinecones on top of our detached garage/shed roof… when our mower-guy came that afternoon, he found a copperhead in that same area. I spent the rest of the night imagining everything that could’ve happened. I guess that’s where my creativeness comes into play: Imagining the worst of every situation until I can’t sleep at night.
SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURESStay away spider if you value your life.
SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURESAnnie was going nuts, so I asked Mandy to head up the baby ruth game.  I really think it was a hit!

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SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURESOne mom commented on the bottles I used for the lemonade and asked if I made my own wine. Why, yes I do! Okay once I did (of dandelion wine) and have never since, but still. And randomly I had one tiny bottle in our fridge that we’ve lugged around for over 4 years. Why? I have no idea… it became sort of like a pet. So I broke it out for a quick taste test to which we all agreed that one tasting was plenting. I swear, don’t light matches next to that stuff, it’ll you’ll scorch your date. Out the rest was poured on the other dandelions in the yard. This is for my homie….

A few days prior we visted my brother’s house where Ruthie and Annie ate about 3 tons of grapes just because they could and because I wanted them to be quiet so the adults could talk. Think of all the crappy wine I could’ve made with those grapes.

We also had a family over that we hadn’t seen in about a year. They were in our birthing classes while I was pregnant with Ruthie, so it was fitting to see them so soon to her birth-day. This mama has 5 kids, homeschools, and still wears make-up. It all intrigues me.
SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURESRuthie was in heaven chasing her kids everywhere and making pinecone creations with them. Sometimes Ruthie pulls away shyly, and other times she is instantly someone’s shadow. Annie is the same way and they both just took to these kids so quickly.
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SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURESThe parents talked until 10:30 (!!!) and it wasn’t until the last ten minutes when the kids started getting restless and over-tired.
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So fun. When I see all her kids running around it makes me want to have a gaggle of my own. Ryan would at least like to try.

How to Host 5 Families in a Shack

First off, everyone needs to wear deoderant. No ifs, ands, or buts, because this space is tight.

But it worked.

Secondly, just order pizza and be done with it. Don’t try to get fancy with hand-rolled sushi this time around. You’ll end up deciding to make and eat a wasabi bomb and hope that it explodes so you don’t have to finish rolling one more roll.

Deoderant, check. Pizza, check. Here’s the calm before the storm.

And here’s the storm. The fun storm, the funny storm, the comfortable-I-feel-like-we’ve-known-these-couples-for-a-long-time storm.

You remember this storm.. from our reunion a month ago?


Before leaving the reunion we suggested that we have a game night. So the Shack was offered up as the first meeting point and accepted.

They arrived on a rainy cold night and we ushered them in to park their car seats. 5 babies, under 5 months.

A couple that was unable to make it to the reunion came as well. Little did we know that all the stars were aligned for them to possibly not make it to game night: a baby that strongly dislikes being in her car seat, not knowing how to get to our place, and no internet connection to figure out how to get to our place.

As luck would have it, they walked out of a coffee shop and saw our midwife across the street who gave them directions.

Yay! Here they are. I wish I had their baby girl’s hair:

And here’s the rest of the crew. Cozying up in our single-wide. You see that baby at 10 o’clock.

He weighs over 20 lbs. Guess how old he is.

3 flipping months.

That’s the mama that had him in 90 minutes in her living room. From first contraction to out-comes-baby. Let’s all take a moment of silence.

Another tidbit for housing a bigger group than normal? Open up every nook and cranny for use. With having 5 babies in the place, it really didn’t feel chaotic. Some people went into the guest room to nurse, others laid their baby in our room to nap. It seemed to work out.


Sweet little S. He and Ruth napped together in her room. Gone are the days (already!) that we can lay little miss rolly-poly on the middle of the bed. What a difference a few months makes.

In between nursings and naps, we did manage to play a game.

Catchphrase – Girls vs Boys

Which I still think was uneven because none of us women can remember our last name, let alone guess Pad Thai in 5 seconds. At one point, one mama stopped talking in the middle of a conversation. Two minutes later I asked, What were we just talking about? 

I don’t know, she said. Literally, only 2 minutes had elapsed. It’s nice to be around others that understand.

So, even though we were at a disadvantage, and even though we lost….


…it was still a blast.

Look at little C in the green shirt.

He reminds me of a older man, shrunk down in size.

We’ve already agreed on the next location for game night. One of the mamas said she had asked our midwife if any other class kept in touch afterwards, and was disappointed to find out that yes, some other classes have. I’ll ask her again in 5 years, she said.

I hope we’ll still be playing games 5 years from now. Maybe by then I’ll be able to remember my name.

Reunion

Saturday night our little family went to a reunion. Our (home)birthing class reunion. If there’s one way to become close to someone, watch Peruvian women squat out their babies for 30 minutes.

I think I’ll start using that as an ice-breaker at parties. Hi, nice to meet you. Hey, take a look at this video… 

Friends will be lining up at the Shack, I’m sure of it.

Here are the kidlets, along with their papas and a few Chucky-looking dolls behind them. The two on the left were born within 24 hours of each other as well as the two on the right. Our class put J, the midwife, through the ringer.

Speaking of her, here she is!

She was the teacher of our class and we all walked away with so much knowledge. The class was held on four saturdays for about 3 hours long.

But besides the education, we walked away getting to know some seriously funny folks. Like, I would double over as far as a pregnant lady could double over, funny. That was during the class, though, when we’d snicker like a 12 year old if someone said vajayjay. Or like when we were asked why a women gets shaved while in the delivery room. And someone answered, “Tangles?”  Ah, yes, we were all back in 6th grade and loving it.

So I wondered how it would be after the fact. When we’re not joking about how the guys shouldn’t massage your wife during labor and expect it to lead to anything. Or hearing the men verbally high-five each other upon finding out that having sex can actually help induce labor naturally.

Those were all funny moments. But what about now? Oh my word, yes.


We all had different birthing experiences.

One lasted 35 hours while another only last 90 minutes. (Can we pause and try to imagine that? Yikes.)

One couple took a walk together under the moon and another ran around cleaning tubs and toilets (us).

I had my baby on my bed and another had hers squatting in the hallway. One gave birth in the water, and the other was on her hands and knees in the living room.

It was FAScinating. Yes, sometimes we were serious while listening to each other.

But for the most part, we looked like this:

I pretty much guffawed the whole night. Didn’t even talk to anyone. How are you, Carolyn? Bahahahaha! Ehhh, okay. Good to hear you’re well. How’s your baby? Tee hee hee hee.

I mean, good grief. Get a room with the jokes, Carrie.


In other news: Ruth was introduced to several friends. She, again, licked her chops as if she were going to devour them in apparently the only first impression she gives potential buddies.

We lasted as long as the little tykes would let us and then headed home. But not without first planning another get together at, guess where, THE SHACK for some games and more baby talk.

And yes, there will be laughter too. Yes, indeed.

Who let the freak out? (aka, my first night out since Ruth)

Last Friday we went to a masquerade ball. It was our first night out by ourselves since D-Day, or I guess it should be called R-Day.

And actually, it probably really was like D-day for everyone else. No one saw the Carrie-bomb that was about to be dropped on them. It was like I was 16 all over again, attending a senior’s party. Only this time with cleavage. And a boyfriend. And no braces. And a girdle on. And no job. And – okay, I better stop while I’m ahead.

But I’m probably a good 1% cooler now than I was in high school. Thank you milk production. Man, if I had only known then that all I needed was a baby. I could’ve had better fitting tops and my own MTV show.

Ruth was terrified of us. Or she can see into the future.

I literally acted as if I had never been let out of the house before. Letting my mouth, feet, and hands (I’m a gesticulator) run wild.

Couldn’t help it, though. First off the place was fantastic. Above one of our little downtown shops, in a space that was about to be renovated into apartments. The walls were cracked and crumbling, antique-y chairs were used as a lounge, mason jars with lights were used to illuminate. Ah, loved it. The juxtaposition of velvet chairs, wood floors, and crumbling walls? Candy for the eyes.

courtesy of someone on facebook

I forced people to dance with me (The band was awesome. Is there anything better than acoustic versions of Snoop Dog & Violent Femmes?), I about karate chopped a guy’s head off with my excited hand gestures, and completely put my foot in my mouth several times. The scariest moment came when I saw D, my midwife’s assistant, at the party. We hugged and another girl asked how we knew each other.

“How do we know each other? Well, she looked down there for 4 straight hours.”

And I may or may not have used the word hoo-haw.

Just keeping it classy, folks. Keeping. It. Classy. High school Carrie had edged me out at that point.

courtesy of someone on facebook

But, can I raise a glass of vino in my honor for one thing, though? When the time came for the crowd to get into the inevitable large circle, so we can break out in the middle with our favorite early 90s moves, I did not, I repeat, did not do The Carlton. Talk about self-control. Because that had been haunting me since J’s last shindig.

You know The Carlton, don’t you? Everyone knows The Carlton.

It was pretty much my first time meeting everyone, and much to R’s horror, I whipped out The Carlton. In an 80s prom dress. And high freaking heels.

Do you see what’s coming? Literally two arm swings in I landed wrong and had to stumble out of the circle in shame. We quickly left afterwards.

courtesy of someone on facebook

Not this time, though. I held back in spite of the possible redemption and R was proud. So I immediately said or did something to make him shake his head. Can’t let him wonder if I’ve changed for the better for too long.

And wouldn’t you know it, I ended up hobbling my way out to the car anyway.

Girl hasn’t worn heels (let alone dance in them) in what seems like ages. But the blisters were well worth it, my friends. Well worth it.

Me, me, me

I had a really nice birthday. Even little Ruth slept well the night before. Wait, no, I take that back. No she didn’t.

I remember thinking, “Happy Birthday to me” at 3am and wondering if little miss fussiness would settle down so I could get some sleep. Those days are gone.. not the staying up late apparently, but definitely the crashing until lunch.

It was a hard night.

But around 7:30, I stumbled into the living room to lay on the couch for any zzz’s I could get and realized that R was fixing me breakfast. He had only a few minutes before going to work, so I grappled for some toothpicks to keep my eyelids open and shuffled to the table.

This is R’s dream breakfast. No color. I grabbed my nearest fake plant, blew off the dust, and took a shot. I cannot not have color on (or near, at least) my plate.

And then I saw the card that had “Yo necesito un Caroline” on it. This harkens back to my days working in the insurance industry, having file incoming claims. I was on the spanish-speaking queue. Remember when I made a complete and utter fool of myself on that queue with the spanish language, as well as telling my class in college how delicious penis pasta is? No? Read my blog post on it, here.

Well, I joined the company as they were just implementing that group of employees (side note: I accidentally wrote ‘groupo’), meaning there weren’t very many of us. Anyway, I was on a call with a nice older lady and we got disconnected. Later, a co-worker came up and said that he finished the claim, but she kept asking for ‘Caroline’. That she needed Caroline. I was the only Carolyn that spoke spanish there, so he figured it was me.

After telling R this, he starting saying it every now and then. He added ‘un’ which doesn’t really make sense, but I never corrected him because I thought it was cute.

Long story short, the card made me smile.

We made plans to meet up for lunch that afternoon. He originally offered to bring food home, but I reminded him of our pact. Our “we will not be prisoners of Ruth” pact, and decided to go out.

I have to get used to taking her places. I don’t want to be scared or anxious or stressed out. Just go with the flow and take your time, is what I tell myself. So far it’s worked pretty well.

We had a nice lunch and showed her off to his coworkers that were meeting at the local coffee shop. We didn’t stay long, because I needed to get home and clean. We were having company that night!

R , T and their two little ones came over with food (and drinks and plates and utensils and napkins – everything!) in hand.

I was taught how to use the Moby wrap and little S helped me blow out the candles. This wasn’t the last we’d see of his mom, though…

Because she was starring in the local production of ‘Little Shop of Horrors” that following night!

Again, I took a deep breath and said “I am not a prisoner. I am not a prisoner.” Now, this was a tricky decision for us. It’s almost like bringing a baby to the movie theatre (don’t worry, that won’t be us) and I won’t be hauling Ruth to a major production of Hair anytime soon, but I felt like this venture wasn’t going to leave me crying & depleted from disgruntled patron’s dirty looks.

We sat literally right next to the door for a quick exit and I made sure to leave (only twice!) before she started to get fussy. Success was had, my friends.

I did miss the first scene that R was in because Ruth was hungry, but caught the rest. The production was very funny and I was so proud of our little theatre.

Afterwards, Ruthie and I attacked the actors (mostly R) and got our photos with her. Ruth was really impressed as you can tell. She was just trying to act cool, I think. Don’t let this photo lie, though. Literally as soon as we got into the car, the cries started and only stopped after ten minutes of a particular Weezer song on repeat.

Saturday we slept on and off, forgoing the Apple Festival in favor of rest and relaxation. Next year, Ruth. Apples galore.

My brother-in-law and his wife asked us over Saturday night along with another couple to play dominoes. Lots, and I mean lots, of singing was sung, laughing was laughed, and jokes were joked.

A cake was brought out, and let’s all take a moment to see how bright that darn cake was. Seriously, how old am I??

I managed to blow them all out though. I attribute that ability to my labor breathing practice. I knew those 12 hours would come in handy!

Thank you all for a really nice birthday. Hopefully my wish will come true: getting a good night’s sleep.

4 years, baby!

Ah, yeaahhh. 4 years. Can’t believe it.

I think I’ll make R watch So You Think You Can Dance tonight. That’s right. 4 years, baby.

I neglected to mention in last year’s post that about month before we were to be married, the roof of our chapel was blown off from a tornado.

Midwest, ugh.

I was sad, R sent me flowers at work (the first time ever — and can I say… so appreciated. No Hallmark law stating he should, just him knowing I was upset and sending an uplifting flower with a sweet note in my time of need. Loved it.),  and I started searching for a new venue. A church down the street offered to take the displaced couples and we had no choice.

But we still went to a service to see who we’d be working with.

They were pretty cool, for being children of the fricken corn.  As soon as the service was over, they turned with arms outstretched and moaning as if half-dead.

Looking back, who doesn’t want to get married in a Thriller video?

So we said yes, and that was that. Oh, if I had to do it over. We’d be in a field, me in a white cotton dress picking wildflowers down the aisle for my bouquet.

Oh well, maybe for our fifth. Right now, enjoy photos from my 3 yr anniversary right here.

While you do that, we will go out to eat with possibly a golf game included. Ta Ta!

Dancing Wedding

Dancing Weddiiiiing – Young and Sweet only seventeeeen. You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your li-i-ife.

Wow, this was a fun one. I’ve been to some where I stay for the meal and slip out the door; others where I sit at the table all night talking with friends without even so much as a glance to the dance floor; and still others where I play whiffle ball and serve guests bbq from a gas station.

Okay that last one  was my own wedding. Yikes.

But this one. This one will be the dancing wedding.

We all knew K & D loved to dance, for them to see this all night:

It must’ve just made their day.

It made mine too, because I’m re-entering the world of dancing without caring.

R thinks he’s been duped. You see, in college our circle of friends would go to a place with a dinky dance floor. And while everyone else was bumping to the music, R and I would stand flat against a wall getting to know each other all the while avoiding drinks getting sloshed into our face by someone’s bad dance move. It was fun. Kind of like dodgeball meets dating. So, he thought I didn’t like to dance, which meant that there was no pressure on his end. And there wasn’t. Truly!

Until recently. If there is a packed floor and good music on, then I’m psyching myself up to get out there if I’m in the mood.

And I don’t care if I dance a little Elaine Benes-esque with my one-handed train conductor move, because if you can’t hear… Journey’s playing and it’s time to move.

So when R went MIA after seeing a good dance crowd, I turned around to find my good ole standby. Mom.

Whaaaaat? What is she doing all. by. herSELF?

Something drastic needed to be done.

So I ran to the DJ and requested Backstreet Boys, stat. HURRY. This is an emergency, my mom is sitting all by herself because she’s not really into House of Pain.

He gave me a sidelong glance and hesitated in the B section. “Are you sure it will go over well with this crowd?” I didn’t care, we had to pump some dancing blood back into Momma Pat and this was the ticket.

As the song started, I ran away from him so no one would know who requested the song. No offense, mom. But could you believe that people gave a loud whoop and clapped?

I grabbed mom and drug her out with me.

She was only a little excited.

By the way, nice bra, Carolyn. Jeez. I’m the classy cousin at the wedding with my unmentionables hanging out in every photo. Sigh.

We slow danced… Still couldn’t seem to find R, so had to make-do with taking photos of my sister and her husband.

And then there were dance-offs:

My nephew, W, partook in one and apparently won?

But grandma was cheering a bit too hard for little W, because the dance-off moved onto her:

And she was booty-ed off the dance floor. No one is safe during a dance off, my friends.

But not to be outdone, my brother-in-law (aka “roommate”) had one out with a groomsmen.

I don’t think anyone can compete with suspenders. Sorry N.

Oh, K & D. What a great wedding! I don’t know who this girl is nor why I took the photo, but I think it had to do with the drawing. Does it seem familiar to this old blog post? Click here.

Discuss.

And Dance. Discuss and dance. That’s pretty much how life goes anyway.

J and T’s 30th Birthday Party

I don’t know where the nickname Juice came from, nor did I invent it for her. But I was introduced to her in college with that name and it’s still stuck in my head. She and I ran around in the same group our last year at KSU and she was also living with a group of R’s friends. The first night I met her, I stayed up all night dancing watching people from the wallflower section of the dancefloor. The next morning I woke up next to people I only vaguely knew and she immediately made plans with me to eat breakfast where R was waiting tables.

Just like that. She’s just a tad friendly.

But little did I know how creative she was until we slowly became better friends.

She’s quirky and in my world, quirky = cool.

You know, people who aren’t concerned with what others think of them. I’m still trying to get there, but I have come long strides since my early 20s. This blog has helped.

So, she and her husband T (who both also did the Adventure Race with us back in November – click link here), both turned 30 recently and wanted to celebrate. They invited their friends and paid their way for a night of 80s Roller Rink Fun-o-rama.

And we made it just in time for the Limbo. whew!

Each of us took our turns getting reaccustomed to roller skating. I don’t think any of us had skated within the past 10 years, so the whole “balance” thing was a foreign idea.

Well, except for Juice.

She’s been practicing to join the local Roller Derby Team.

Anyway, some of us pushed off the wall and hoped to slow down at the Limbo line.

While others had to be helped by an outstretched hand. Eventually we all made it. It took an hour.

Now, this first experience on wheels really tested you. The length from the line to the actual limbo pole is, oh, about 20 miles. No, seriously.

I wanted to cry, it was so scary.

It was like your first jump off the high-dive. Once you started, there was no turning back.

So instead of actually skating, I did one little push and then bent over. I don’t think my head even cleared it.

The failure was promptly blamed on my high ponytail.

Then it was R’s turn.

Oh, R.

He started off with feet parallel to each other and then somehow one foot started to split off and he couldn’t pull them back together. So the only option was to go with it.

Hopefully he can still sire children after that. It was painful to watch.

After our first run on the rink we were already sore.

R and N stretched it out for a bit….

While I chomped on Pop Rocks, provided by the hostess, and watched the show on the rink.

Every two seconds you heard someone scream and then bones breaking.

Like these three. I hope the horizontal guy is okay.

R stayed near anyone with a helmet thinking he could just fall on them and avoid the cement. Good thing this guy had one too. Man, he wiped out hard several times, causing the ‘referee’ (what are those guys called – bouncer? chaperone?) to blow his whistle and check on him.

It was awesome.

Others just breezed on by without a care in the world. Juice called ahead to ask if she could wear those fast special skates. They said yes.

What a show off.

We were jealous of her skills.

But I bet you’re jealous of my mad braking skills. That’s right ya’all. I could eat your brake for brakefest.

…and with that pun I bid you good night.

Later on, we skated the birthday girl into the bathroom (appropriately decked out in daisies) for a birthday toast. There’s something so liberating about having skates on while going pee. I’m not going to delve into that thought process, but I felt liberated.

We hung out for awhile until we were busted by the rink patrol. They were cool, thank goodness, and tsk-tsked us back to the rest of the group.

It was no use explaining to them that the bathroom break was necessary to..

do this.

Yikes. This should’ve been a recipe for disaster, but we both held on strong and whirled around. That was the thing I was most looking forward doing…. Spinning in the middle of the floor.

This had to be on of the most fun parties I’ve been to. We even broke out our Thriller dance when the song came on.

On SKATES, people.

And now I also want to take up skating as exercise… Forget running, people, skating will kill your thighs.

But it won’t kill your fond childhood memories. It only enhances them.

We used to do the Hokey Pokey, the coin toss, races and a bunch of other things. But I bet you all have some memories of your own.

Share if you’d like, I’m all ears.

Catalina Island en route

Well, we ended up getting out of Arkansas last weekend. It made me kind of suspicious that the only flight not cancelled was ours. The tickets were extremely cheap… and so apparently were the people calling the “go ahead and give it a go” shots. I mean, almost every other flight was cancelled. Every. Other. Flight.

But did that stop us?

Hail no. (Literally)

Neither did our snow packed car stop us…

…or the almost zero visibility on the roads. If I had to stick my head out the window and get pneumonia, by golly we are getting to some sunshine! Keep driving R!

We finally dragged our soggy feet into the airport. I have a thing about packing light… trying to scale back what I take to the point that I’m on the verge of wearing the same thing everyday on a trip. Okay, it’s not that bad, but I did refuse to wear a jacket because I didn’t want to lug it around for five minutes walking to and from the airport.

I was a literal snowwoman (excuse the political correctness) when I finally stumbled through the doors. It was ugly. And wet.

When my eyelids eventually unfroze themselves, we saw our friends T and R, and immediately gut laughed.

It’s not unusual to run into people we know as we come from a small town, but this was getting ridiculous. They were waiting for their friends to return from China with their newly adopted baby.

Recently we ran into T&R at a local pizza place too. They were there for a birthday party, and were early, so we sat with them until our pizza was ready to go.

A birthday party… no big deal right? Right. Except for when the pizzeria has literally two tables inside and both were being used for the said party goers that hadn’t showed up yet. When they did, T&R were put in an awkward situation of introducing us to everyone as if we had come along. And of course, R ordered the most labor intensive pizza in all of Italy, so we waited forever to make our graceful exit. By this time everyone was wondering who this chick was with no makeup on and why she was standing in line for the pinata.

So we show up at the airport and who is having the welcome home party? Oh, just the same people from the pizzeria.

Lovely.

What luck to join them for again! I thought I might as well take photos of them since we’re basically a part of their lives now. T joked that R & I will be in the background of all their photos. And if we see the couple on the street, we’ll bring up memories to them and they’ll wonder why we know such intimate details.

Embarrassing. But it was nice to see them with their new baby. R & I have talked about adoption a lot and my idea of our future family is changing to include that option.

Until then, we’ll continue to buy cheap tickets on scary icy flights.

But we landed! Oh yes we did and had a quick night’s sleep before heading out to Catalina Island with my brother, his wife, and their friends.

We were backpacking for the night and it was part gorgeous, part LOST-like. If you don’t watch the show you won’t get the references, so you best start watching reruns, like, now. You won’t regret it.

If you do watch the show, I probably really like you.

Stay tuned!

Feetsies

What is my obsession with feet in photos? There’s no logical thought process since I don’t even take care of them, so why should I photograph them?

But I do.

And now you have to suffer.

Some of these I’ve blogged about (and have linked back to those posts) and others I haven’t, but wish I had.

Hot summer weekend trip in Iowa. Cool, sweet water.

Just prior to having a semi-heart attack on the Brew to Brew: 50 mile relay race from Boulevard Brewery in KC to FreeState brewery in Lawrence. The worst part was knowing that after your team drove past cheering you on, they immediately rolled up the window to say how sorry you looked. I know this, because we did it to every other person on our team. But I’m sure they didn’t do it to me. Right. RIGHT?

Hiking the Grand Canyon. What a glorious day, despite R almost dying.

Garage sale shopping with my mom. This was a terrifying flash forward of our lives when she literally parked in someone’s front lawn. Not on purpose.

What you don’t see above these feet is a girl dry heaving on Little Corn Island, Nicaragua. Apparently I don’t like heights?

After wearing heels for too long, asking R if I could borrow his shoes for a few minutes. No I wasn’t wearing socks either.

[collective groan / shrieks of horror]

Dancing the Thriller…in sneakers. If I saw a zombie coming towards me in white tennies, I’d either poke him in the eyes (and hope he doesn’t block me with the finger shark fin) or run my butt off. He might’ve died running, you know.

Do you see the steep stairs in this Irish castle ruin? And the rain water? You do the math.

Visiting our cousins in the Sunshine State. This is also a good reminder: Kids, always remember to put sunblock on your feet. Do not, I repeat, do not stop at your ankles.

Costume / Dance Parties. Oh, penny loafers.

Camping / Hiking – and facing my fear of the granddaddy spider of 2001.

And last but certainly not least… running through fields. I was apparently really excited to get to something…. probably food.

As I was looking around, I found even more feetsies photos. Oh yes, there will be a part two. Who sighed? I heard that.

The Life of a White Elephant Gift

I’m ba-ack. Never did I think I’d miss my cozy dorm room, but it feels nice to be back into its space-confining arms. After more than a week in Kansas, we arrived home last night and are implementing many things for our 2010 selves. Until then, I’ll continue to eat my weight in chocolate.


An item that did not come home with us this year was R’s white elephant gift. Actually, neither did mine;  of the $20 worth of lottery tickets, only one was a winner (a free ticket). And even that gained us nothing.


But what those tickets didn’t give us in money, the 3D pear fruit plate gave us in fun.
Here it is, in all it’s glory. Primed to be hung on any proud ceramic fruit displayer’s wall. We were in disbelief when no one tried to steal this from us.

So R tried to give it away as part of his secret santa gift.
R drew our brother-in-law’s name for our annual secret santa amongst the siblings. This year we decided to do a $5 limit. Does anything cost 5 bucks anymore? It was hard, but we at least we were all on a level playing field.

At least I thought we were. I opened up my gift from my brother & his wife and oh, just a “five dollar” COACH purse.  Uh.. hope you guys enjoy the homemade laundry detergent. Pretty fair trade, I’d say.

R was clever with his money, though. He knew that Joe (he has allowed me to use his full name) loved his Boulevards. But when R noticed the price was $6.98, he calculated how much he’d have to drink before giving him the present. A few chugs and a couple of leftover backwashes later, we were in business.

As an extra touch of thoughtfulness, R added his lovely pear plate (free of charge) to his secret santa gift.

Joe was thrilled.
A few days later, we found the pear plate hiding in a cupboard.

“Oh, Hail No”, my mom said. “This is not staying in our house.”

So she suggested I wrap up the plate and give it to R during his family’s christmas morning.
And being the dutiful daughter, I did.

R was not as thrilled as Joe. That is, until his father and brother went out to shoot blue rock in their backyard. And this is where the plate’s lovely life took a sad, sad turn. 

Please cover your eyes as there are shocking images ahead.

Not a direct hit, but fatal nonetheless. We will miss you, oh gawdy ceramic pear plate. May you go into white elephant gift heaven.

1987 – A remake

R’s co-workers threw an 80s prom party this weekend. So I tried my darndest to bring out my inner Kelly LeBrock from Weird Science and ended up feeling more like Bill Paxton as the blob. R doned his real prescription Ray-Ban sunglasses that I did not help him pick out. That is a whole ‘nother story.

It was a fun night.

We chatted with people while I tried to divert their attention from R’s insistance on wearing both his regular glasses and sunglasses all night.

We slow-danced. And don’t worry, mom..

I made sure there was room for the Holy Spirit.

We stood in a circle and danced. After R did his thang, I threw off my shoes and broke out the Carlton dance from Fresh Prince. This was my debut in front of his co-workers. Here is a video if you haven’t ever seen it: watch this move!

Except I didn’t even make it two swings before twisting my ankle and stumbling out of the circle. I definitely broke under pressure.
Nice to meet everyone, my name is Carolyn.

But then! Then, we watched a video tutorial on how to perform the thriller dance.

And we all broke it out. I was a little ahead of the rest of the group, I think.

Great night!

P.S. We are still having some internet troubles, thus the infrequent posts this week. More coming soon!

Tonight is Jammed Packed Full of Excitement! Coffee’s in the back!*

**Warning: Many words and photos ahead. Read & Look at your own risk.**

*The title was actually said via mic by my sister A. She was trying to get these baby boomers pumped up.

So after many a secret email, decorations bought, and lies told directly to my parents, the night had finally arrived! We had told B&P that R and I were driving into town to take them out to dinner with the rest of the family. My sister, A, was the head planner and quickly sent L & me an email listing the top ten things NOT to do when planning a surprise. The first rule that topped the list said to not avoid talking about the day and the “plans”. So we took turns calling them, asking if they were exciiiiiiiited, since that’s what we’d ask every two hours anyway.

Then we turned paranoid.

Everything my parents said sounded like they may already know of the party and are playing along. My dad laughed and said “yeah right” when I mentioned how we were (exciiiiiiited) to take them out for dinner.

Yeah right? He knew.

We had to sneak into their home to steal some photos and other paraphernalia while they were visiting my brother in California. (ps: M & D – we wish you had been here!! We missed you.) I had the excuse off dropping of my table, but still, when they said “oh we were wondering who was in the house. No one ‘fessed up.”

‘Fessed up? They knew.

Then it got bad. My mom answers the phone “Hello?” Hello? They knew. “How are you, Carrie?” How are you? They knew. They knew, they knew, they knew.

But they didn’t. Oh, not by a long shot.

When they first walked in. I love L’s shoes.
So a few things happened through the process that made my heart hurt. First, I had messed up royally by suggesting to B&P that R and I would be arriving at their home before taking them out on Saturday. If that were so, how was I going to help decorate and cook my roll-ups?

I had to think of something. And fast. A would beat me up if I didn’t.

On Saturday morning, I called B&P and told them R had to go into work last minute and we didn’t know when we’d leave. In fact, we had arrived the night before and slept in our nephew’s bedroom. He has a full bed and we thought we were in heaven…not even bumping into each other all night like in our glorified twin bed.

But I had to call my parents again as soon as I “got on the road” and it had to be timed so that “we’d have to meet you at the restaurant. Wish is were different, guys! Muah!” I even dropped a few “I’m so annoyed right now” to mom so that it sounded believable. Carolyn annoyed? Very believable.

So relaxing.
But as I walked around the grocery store saturday morning with my sister L, my stomach (and heart) began to hurt. I really did want to hang out with them and L’s conversation with mom the night before didn’t help any.

First, she had called mom, P, while she was out grocery shopping for lasagna. A lunch for me and R. Ouch.

Then, L told me mom had mentioned about 5 times that she’s looking forward to such a relaxing evening. Relaxing. hmmm….

Father B. 40 years later.
I made my dreaded call, lied to my parents for the second time within 3 hours, made my 2000 pinwheel roll ups, and got dressed. We met up a couple hours prior to the party to put up lights, lay out table decorations, and set up the buffet. When R was asked to lay out the napkins, he put them on each table as if we were having a sit-down dinner. You know, instead of piling them at the beginning of the buffet. He almost got beat up. We were all nerves.

L left early to meet my parents at her home. Thank goodness too because they showed up 15 minutes early and she had to stall by trying on several different dresses and asking for everyone’s opinion. Nice save.

She was also in charge of driving them to the location. Our schtick was to scout out possible locations for my brother and (new) sister-in-law’s reception hall. L was supposed to just “swing by real quick”. Well, she did manage to get them to the parking lot and my mom out of the car.

My dad? Different story. I mean, the Chiefs game was on the radio and why would he need to give input on the space? So he didn’t. Well, he tried to stay put, anyway.

My mom watched as L insisted strongly that he should get out of the car. That’s when she thought something seemed strange. Dad and L went back and forth and finally he (probably) sighed loudly and got out. Then he saw the lights. And a party.

Heck no, he wasn’t going to crash a party just to check out a space. But he was outnumbered and was shoveled through the door.

SURPRISE!!!!!

The first thing he said: “I’ve got to go apologize to L.”
A surprise party just isn’t the same without a struggle. Love it.

{You can click on the photos to make them larger}
So my parents mingled with old friends and family. Some they’ve seen recently, others… years.

We managed to find the actual priest that married them 40 years ago. Father B. My mom used to think he was cute. I think he looks the same.

As the night went on, each of us girls had our microphone duty. (If a mic isn’t in our hands, we feel naked.)
  • Amy: Introduce Father B. Prayer. Toast.
  • Lisa: Roast.
  • Carolyn: Bouquet and Garter Belt toss.
In that order.

I’ll give you one chance to guess if it was raining that night or not.
A introduced B as planned and he said a really nice prayer for us. I videotaped it all and felt really disrespectful, but at the time didn’t care. I had a job to do.
Then we dug into cake… cake framed by photos of my parents sharing cake on their wedding day. Oh, and nametags.
Thus begins the replicating of their reception:

Look at dad’s face. Oh, how 40 years changes things!


Soon afterwards, the mic duties went south. As soon as the little ones were taken home for bed, L went up to start “the roast”.

Okay.

You need to know my parent’s friends. They are loud, ballsy, funny, and sarcastic.

Well, I guess that’s how they always are in our memories of them hanging out with my parents. You forget how time can change energy level. Because tonight? They were quiet. Maybe the lighting was too bright. Yeah, that was probably it.

A few got up to speak, which we appreciated. Some were poignant and some were, well, confusingly funny.

One person brought up a basketball game in which the guys were playing. The speaker got side-lined with an injury and so the girls (mom) were asked to get ice. Well, they must have spent the majority of the time shopping or something because they didn’t get back until much later. And all the guys yelled at them. But he ended it with…. “and B chewed her out. [pause] They’re just a great couple.”

The segway made me laugh.

I think it made L nervous though because after he sat down, she asked for any more stories. Any one? Any one? (Ferris Bueller).

Nope, no one.

She then had the gall to cut into my mic time and immediately said “Okay!! All the girls get up for the Bridal Toss!” How dare she. But it was okay because we got some audience participation. Everyone stood up! And how appropriate that my mom’s good friend from high school caught it.

Next up? My dad. I couldn’t find a garter belt in time so we had to make do with a ribbon. He seemed to enjoy it.

My cousin’s fiance caught it. Then promptly put it around his head like rambo. Perfect.

Lastly, the first dance (for the second time.) Dad was okay with slow dancing (he always has a good strong arm). But then a fast song came on….

And that’s when his eyes turned red. Well, it could just be red-eye from my camera. But it might not be.

We were so happy to throw this party for B&P. They’ve been such a strong example for us growing up… and now, even more so, now that we know how difficult it is to maintain focus as a couple.

Through hard times, they leaned on each other. Through fun times, they laughed with each other.

Leaning and laughing. That must be the secret.

Shangri-Lloyds @ Tablerock

With my tailbone medication in hand (chilled white wine), we ventured off to a local’s home for his annual party. Shangri-Lloyds. I want this property. Not just because there is an entire wing set up dormitory style for guests, that you have a great view of the lake, or even the three levels of deck space. No, it was all the games.

There’s Lloyd in the yellow. He’s in his 70s and still rockin’ it.
Let’s go through them. Well, we’ve got a volleyball net set up, or how about a little game of frisbee golf?

Not your cup of tea? Alright, then let’s head over to the landing for the zip-line. I’ll hang out on the tire swing while you do that.

Want more? There’s some washers and if you walk a little ways up, you have a full basketball court. Also, a batting cage with it’s own pitching machine over there if you’re interested.


And we were, by golly. We did *everything*. It was a blast and my sweaty shirt showed it.

For dinner, we had pork that had been roasting underground since the night prior. It even had an apple in it’s mouth. I felt like we were seriously on vacation to get this type of treatment. Hawaii, maybe?

As the sun went down, the lights turned on. So did the volume. We enjoyed background music of a local band playing on the deck. In between, various people would stand up and sing a song a capella. I don’t know about you, but stuff like that makes me cringe. I have to look away and it takes my whole being to watch. It’s the seriousness of it all, I guess.

So I convinced my two buddies (R & N) to go on the zip-line with me so I could avoid making eye-contact with the next singer. There was a seat on the zip-line at one point, but we didn’t mind just hanging on.


After a few games of HORSE and hitting baseballs, we left the party a bit early to go swimming off the dock. We took turns jumping off and trying to get mid-air pics. It was utterly summer vacation in that moment. Being silly with a twinge of danger… Wasn’t that in all of our childhoods?


Curls Gone Wild

J and T moved into their new home a few months ago and had their housewarming party last weekend. It was really nice. They had games for both kids and adults to play, but most of us just ate, drank, and chit-chatted.

Here’s our hostess. J. She’s a creative one in my life and I never ever feel like I can’t be my sometimes too day-dreamy self around her. We talk about traveling non-stop, but have yet to go on a (big) trip together. Something is in the works for next year, though. We’ll wait and see.

…with the mostest.
I want curly hair. Bad. But I don’t want to spend money on a perm, so I rolled my hair up the night before in spongy rollers like I was either 10 years old or 80. Take your pick. R would say 80 in looks and 10 in maturity. Had the worst sleep of my life due to said rollers and woke up to a frightening sight. I badgered R into giving me his “honest” opinion. (And when I say honest, I mean he better give me a compliment.) So when he lied and said that it looked scary, I glared at him.

I had texted J before getting to the party that I may look like a Glamourshot photo and to not be scared. So after she got a good laugh when I walked in, I started talking with B’s wife. She wore a big smile and asked whether I had dyed my hair a different color, clearly avoiding the fact that my curls were preventing me from moving through doorways. This, in turn, made me laugh.

…no, my hair has been brown for the past 28 years.
I made my rounds with the guests, but my favorite person to talk to was B’s son. He made me want to hug him, pinch his cheeks, high-five him, and tickle him all at the same time. He is such a mini-me of B, and made me giggle hard.

He was scared of my curls too. No smile.
The rest of the time was spent outdoors playing games. After washers, J pulled out some random (authentic) bowling pins from her garage. B & R tried their hand at juggling them.


Water balloons were next, and we all saw the outcome of that in the previous post.
Then followed some water gun vs hose fights along with a slip-n-slide. A must at any party.

Later in the evening, we sat around a fire and made smores. It was a beautiful evening.

The next day we hung out with R’s brother N. Went out to eat and watched Star Trek for the second time. Love that movie. Got a late start on the road and arrived even later then expected. We saw a storm a’brewin up ahead.

Then the next thing we know, hail is coming down with tornado alerts in the area.

But as soon as it came, it was gone again. And we were left with a little present, a rainbow. Is it just me, or is the pot o’ gold on this guy’s bumper?? Why didn’t we take down his tag?

I’m trying some new things at home and so far they are working out well. I’ll post with more info soon.

I’m not surprised.

R and I went to Topeka last weekend for our friend’s housewarming party. This photo encapsulates what my friends have to put up with.
  • New hairstyle = awkward conversations regarding everything about me except my hair. I try my hand at self-deprecation, but end up liking to watch them writhe in pain as they look me over.
  • The refusal to change out of a shirt soaked by a water balloon, thus making it seem to all new-comers to the party that I have been sweating profusely.
  • The underarm stain confirming that I sweat profusely.
  • In an attempt to reduce extra inches on my upper arm, hold in a way that enlarges my elbow to twice the size of my head. And I’ve got a big head, my friends.
  • When given the task of making queso, somehow drop dangling jewelry into it. When someone almost chokes on it later in the evening, I mutter “Who made that dip? What a loser” and then look at someone accusingly.
All in all a good weekend. More to come.

3 years….

R and I celebrated our 3 year anniversary on Wednesday. Some people say it flew by, but we don’t think it did. And we don’t mean that in a bad way at all. We have been busy stretching, growing and molding ourselves. And with two strong-willed and loud people, that can be difficult. This past year has been the turning point, though… where we have started to put our focus on God more and each other less, thus slipping into a role better suited for each other. We haven’t changed our personalities or have tried to smother our quirkiness. We’re still strong-willed sometimes and loud most times, but now there’s another layer to us. One that has enriched the rest of our being. We continue to cultivate that layer, gently watering the seeds to flower into the type of spouses we’d like to become, but we’ve already seen small changes.
 
Good changes.
 
So on wed night, we spent the majority of  it snipping off those flowers conversationally, putting them in our hair, and admiring each other’s beautiful journey.
 
One of my fellow bloggers went through her wedding day and so I thought I’d do the same. No one probably knows this because I try to hide it well, but, sometimes I don’t like attention on me. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. I’m sure we’re all that way. To be specific, I don’t like when it’s required to pay attention to me. I’d prefer to slip into the background and then pop out into the light every once in awhile. So, unlike most brides I’m sure, I was not entirely comfortable on this day. Not nervous about getting married, just nervous about eyes looking at me. 

So I took a deep breath, and braved a smile….

We had an early wedding because our reception was going to be at a park in the afternoon. I also wanted it to be small (less eyes.) So after our two-minute ceremony — no, you think I’m kidding. One of R’s friends showed up 5 minutes late and it was already over — we went back to the hotel to change into some sundresses and shorts. 
 

My maid-of-honor and sister, L. This photo made us laugh out loud for about 10 minutes straight. We love how it looks like she’s about to go tumbling down the stairs. My other sister, A, was my bridesmaid. 
 
R’s brother was his best man. We were thoroughly impressed with his speech. L’s was really good too, she referenced a memory and at one point held her finger in the air, just like how we wewers girls do. But N’s surprised us. We for sure thought he would go funny and maybe a bit brash, but no. He was all serious and heartfelt. 

I swear, there’s nothing like going bra-less and wearing flip-flops at your reception.

So we had our reception at the park. R was insistent that if we invite kids that they have a place to play. If we had had it a hotel, for instance, he wanted to hire a lifeguard to watch them all swim… or something like that. We found a place that had a wood deck, lots of space, and a little playground next to it. We were pleased. The weather was also beautiful. Breezy, sunny, and mild. 
 
I launched my bouquet like I thought it was a grenade. Maybe it was, because my bro-in-law’s (now) ex-girlfriend ended up catching it.

Why am I in a fourth position plie? 
 
We not only wanted a playground for kids to play, but also games for the kids-at-heart.

Some football…

 
Some water balloons…
 
And, of course, a whiffle ball game going. That was R’s dream for some reason.
 
P.S. Bruce Snell was the photographer for my wedding. We’ve kept in touch through his current blog. Swell guy and fantastic photographer. His blog is listed on the right. He actually just shot the wedding of a guy with whom I used to work. Check it out if you get a chance. You’ll be impressed, guaranteed. 

All dressered up

I’m re-doing our bedroom. No big deal right. The catch is I’m re-doing it into an all white/cream room, save our favorite chest at the end of the bed. That will be the only brown in sight. That’s a pretty crazy goal coming from a spiller. No, I spill everything. At one point, my brother-in-law would make bets to see how long I’d last before spilling something. We’ll see. It may end up being an all white with red/orange/blue splotches room. What do I drink that’s blue?
Here’s the dresser when we first bought it. You can’t see them, but the entire top was covered with water stains. I like the feet. The little bow-thingie on the top is a bit fru-fru for me, so I’ll have to add something masculine to offset that. Otherwise, a pretty solid piece. Thank you, Craigslist.

So I was googling around for ways to paint furniture, when I happened on a blog that gave a quick tutorial. You can find that tutorial here. Does anyone remember that cool yet creepy ‘Pet Cemetery’ sign on I-70 going towards KC? Well, the lady who writes this blog lives on that property. Isn’t that ironic? Speaking of cemeteries, do you know an easy way remember how to spell it? “What’s the sound you make in a cemetery? Eeeeeee!” Okay, I’m a grammar freak. One time at a Christmas party with some friends, we spent probably a good 30 minutes arguing the best way to say something. We even phoned-a-friend (family members) to set us on the right path. I can’t remember what we were debating, but boy was it heated. Forget politics, subject/verb agreement is the new hot topic.


But I digress. I followed the painting directions (which made my husband proud — apparently I just jump into projects with no plan most of the time?) and it came out…..alright. I was heavy on the brown glaze and so it almost looked a little too pre-fabricated. It didn’t look like it had aged naturally.

Besides, I want the overall details of the room to be subtle. Many different patterns, but all the same shade, so you aren’t overwhelmed by it all. That being said, I painted it again all in one color and I’m really pleased. You can still see the details, but it’s not shouting at you from across the room. After I paint the end tables, I’ll show the whole room in it’s entirety. I’m liking it so far!

Surprise Party

When little J saw the green shirt K put on, he said, “Mom! Your shirt’s too small!”. K said she should have worn her capris with it just to have really thrown him a curve ball.
There are certain people that can bring out the best in me. A couple of those people are my friends K & R. Most times when I enter into a group of people cold (and quite frankly, sometimes when it’s a warm situation too — there are times I never feel quite at ease) I tend to over-compensate in certain areas of my interaction. Either I stay pigeon-holed in my “role” within the group, or I end up having that one glass of wine too many due to nerves and sever any sort of meaningful memories. However, as long as I have K in the room, I always feel empowered and confident. Maybe it’s just because she laughs at all my jokes. I dunno..

But a good litmus test of a person is by the people with whom they surround themselves. And judging by the group I was sitting with, K & R apparently are witty, intelligent, gracious, and interesting people. (But I already knew that.) Before we showed up for R’s 30th birthday party, I asked K for a bit of information on some of the couples. I was bound and determined to not let my nerves get the best of me, and planned on being the resident reporter… using K’s biographies to question them with machine gun-speed. Turned out, it was unnecessary. They were all mini-replicas of K & R. Quick to laugh, tease, listen sincerely, and talk openly. At one point, K yelled “Why is the table of people that don’t know each other laughing the loudest? Remember that R and I are the common denominators!!!” It was such a good experience, and does nothing but compliment the people who brought us together.
R-squared have something in common: they don’t like their faces on my blog. I’ll respect their privacy, but I had to include part of the scared look on R’s face when his mother-in-law ordered a 5 liter bottle of red. A hush fell on the crowd as if we were paying last respects to our good sense.

I wasn’t the only one trying to document R’s night. He had his own personal entourage of paps watching his every move. If only they had all turned just slightly to their left, I would have been a bit happier.


We made the birthday boy walk around and pour everyone’s drink as well. He filled my glass way up because he must have known I had to sit next to the hottest picture of Sophia Loren in the joint. Seriously. I was jealous.

Afterwards we went to a couple more places while the grandparents babysat the kidlets in the hotel room. Ended up being a wonderful night. R was surprised and seemed to really enjoy himself and really, that was our goal. Consider it accomplished.

Bipolar Scavenger Hunt

My friend, J, turned 29 this past weekend. So, in the spirit of her 20s, she threw a 1920s party/scavenger hunt. I was stoked. It’s like mixing Halloween with Easter and sprinkling a bit of Dance Party USA on top. R and I spent the week prior trying to find cheap accessories and ended up using a lot of stuff we already had, which always makes me happy.

We got ready over at N’s house. I’m not used to being boxed out in a bathroom, but I had to throw some ‘bows to see the mirror with these guys around. But I thought they both looked great! … with their pencil-thin mustaches and dapper suits. We were ready to go.

three amigos

I was the first to enter the party, and noticed that basically we and the host were the only people dressed up. For a split second, I thought it was a joke on us, just to see if we’d show up like this. Well, we embodied the reverse snobbery of looking at them like they were crazy. I mean, come on! Be silly!

So J had the good idea of splitting up the teams herself in order for people to get to know each other. Then, at the after-party, we wouldn’t cling to our normal groups and would mingle more. Genius. So she grabbed a microphone and announced the teams. N and I ended up being in the same car. I was both excited and scared. The last scavenger hunt we were in, I was the driver, and well.. let’s just say I shouldn’t drive in day-to-day life, let alone in a race competition. Poor J had started off in the front seat and eventually had to move to the back because she didn’t want to actually see the moments before she died.
None of the people in our group had a car, therefore we didn’t have a driver. J had to call her friend to come over and as soon as he opened the door, we shoved him back down the porch steps while introducing ourselves. Turns out he drove a two door, very small, very tight car. There were five of us. I closed my eyes and jumped in.

Now this is where we started riding the emotional waves. We had such high hopes in the beginning. If we had interpreted the clue correctly, we would have ended up only a few blocks away at a landscaped waterfall area. Nope, A (the driver) and I found ourselves running a quarter mile down an overgrown dirt path with zero light. Eventually we decided this wrong and turned back around. Where did we go next? Well, a car dealership. You know, they have landscaped corners. (???) The clue also mentioned that we would look for our next ORANGE clue at the destination. Well, what did we find? An orange truck! Under the truck was a fake tree inside a cardboard box. That must be it! We parked the car, grabbed the box and started tearing through it. Uh, no. There were car parts in it. And we could just start to hear the faint sound of police sirens trying to find 5 kids hijacking a car dealership. We were sad. But mostly because we realized that we should never be detectives.

happy, then sad.
Eventually, we found the right place and based on the two envelopes remaining, decided that two other teams hadn’t arrived yet.

Happy!

We grabbed our bag and read the next clue which involved finding addresses of certain locations and using those numbers in a math equation. Okay, only I was sad about that. Hey — I’m a language major, leave me alone. We found out that one of our teammates was actually in law enforcement and used his connections (i.e. 9-1-1) to call dispatch for those addresses. We laughed so hard when the first thing that came out of his mouth was “Hey — it’s so & so. I’m off duty right now, but could you give me the address to Priscillas?” Is this where our tax money is going?? We were happy, though.

smiles
After a few more clues, we got stumped. It was a crossword puzzle that spelt out the next destination. One of the words we figured out (but only after I swore everyone was wrong — I hate when that happens) was ‘Daddy’. A few blocks down we saw a sign that had the word Daddy in it…and even though the second word didn’t match up, we still went in. No one could figure it out, so I bought a round of drinks. N was not happy with that. He wasn’t sad either. He was mad.

This was at the height of N’s anxiety. He was furious and when we finally figured out the second word (“Cakes”) he ripped everyone in that small little car a new one. You would’ve thought the market had just crashed or something.

Sad.

frowns
This is a fast-forward (Amazing Race lingo, sorry) to the next day when I made N take a blood pressure test. He ended up being in the Hypertension category. I took mine and I was in Pre-Hypertension. I blamed it on N’s yelling the night before.

After heading to a couple more destinations, we arrived at a movie theatre and saw that, even though we thought we were last, there were still 2 more clues at the site…. indicating that more people were behind us. Happy!! We weren’t last!!

We were on a really big high when we showed up at the end. We walked in and saw…

everyone else from the party.

We were last, by about 45 minutes. There were just extra clues at every spot. Everyone laughed at us.

Sad.

cheer up charlie
We ended the night hanging out a friend of J’s house. We intermittently checked on N to make sure he wasn’t going to do bodily harm on himself. R hung out in non-1920s chair most of the night. We had driven in from Arkansas and were pretty beat from the emotional roller coaster. I thought his outfit was cute though. He brought his bowler hat that is technically from 1931. No one noticed the faux pas.

I won best outfit though.

Happy.