I think I may have just won the title of the most random blog title ever! My brain is a little fried today and after reading this post you may know why. And the title fits! It does! Let me tell you…I’ve had a great (albeit exhausting) week. And it’s not even finished yet!
Saturday my sister-in-law was married in a gorgeous Irish-themed wedding. I was over-the-moon excited to be the matron-of-honor and, after re-reading this paragraph, promise to quit with the dashes from here on out. Games were played and Queen’s favors were won. Smoked turkey legs were deliciously evil and there seemed to be an endless supply of beer. In the midst of the reception where I scored major points in archery and bocce ball challenges and where Husband won the stone toss, I discovered two things about myself. One, that I can wear the heavy, flannel, traditional garb that the women did back then without groaning too much about it. The temperature licked at 100 degrees, but my dress stayed on. It was a larger feat than it seems…take a look at what I was up against…
Which leads me to the second thing I discovered about myself…there is nothing sexier than a strong-jawed, wide-shouldered man in a kilt holding a bare turkey leg. (Side note: I’m not much for historical novels, but as of late I don’t know what’s going on with me. First, I love McCarty’s The Chief, and now I’m drooling over Husband in a kilt. I think it’s time I re-evaluate my writing/reading preferences.) (And YES, I have a left arm…it’s wrapped behind my back and hidden beneath 10 pounds of stifling fabric. Hungry, sword-wielding Husband didn’t gnaw it off.)
After the wedding, Husband and I packed up our two munchkins and headed to Pinecrest Lake, a campground with loads to do. Actually, even though there was fishing, horseback riding, and miles of trails to hike, I sat on the beach and looked at *this* all day:
Not such a bad view, huh?
This is me and Husband back to our modern-day selves, lounging like two lizards on the beach. Don’t say anything but I think I liked him as a stone-throwing Irishman better. Ha!
The rugrats had never been camping and I was a little hesitant. In my worst nightmares I could not have imagined how dirty they’d get. The ring around my bathtub looked a little like those gulf oil spill pictures floating around the internet. Although I freaked out every time they kicked up plumes of dirt and laughed or shoved dozens of marshmellows in their little cheeks, they loved every second. Every single sugar-filled, dirty-little second. When we left, they were innocent and cuddly…a little like Gizmo. Remember him?
“Please let me go camping and eats tons of sugar! Pleeease! I’ll be a good little gremlin!”
Now imagine Gizmo whacked out on pixie sticks and doughnuts and candy and picture him swimming in the lake waaaay past his bedtime. Yup. You got it. My cute, cuddly kids came home looking a little like this:
“Open this refrigerator so I can get to the deep-fried twinkies or I’m going to saw off the handle with my chainsaw! Raawr!” (And, why yes, that is me hiding behind the wall, too scared to enter the kitchen for fear the gremlins will eat off my right arm. It’d be awful to post a picture here tomorrow of me missing BOTH arms, right?)
Needless to say, I’m so glad the week is over. It’s over, I tell you! We’re home safe, the kids are clean (back to their mildly innocent, cute and cuddly selves), the piles of camping gear are (mostly) unpacked and I’m drop-dead tired. Wait…it’s Thursday? Shoot. What should I do with the rest of my week?
Maybe I could convince my knight in shining plaid to dress up again. *wink
(Edited to add: Anyone wanna do a dash tally? Think I broke the twenty mark?)