Picture Perfect

So Jenna and Mark are expecting a baby in September, and when Jenna came and visited me in February, she forgot the ultrasound picture on my fridge. I left it up because I like the idea of having a niece or nephew to spoil rotten and then be able to hand back to Jenna and Mark.

Anyways, yesterday the maintenance guy came to my apartment to put a screen door on my little patio doors, and I left him a Ziploc baggy full of Easter candy with a note that said, "Enjoy!!". When I got back to my apartment last night, he wrote, "Thanks! And congratulations!".

Awesome.

On Easter Sunday, we went to a nice brunch at this place in Lake Geneva called The Baker House, and we went outside to take a nice Easter picture of the family. The lady was like, "Ooooooh, the EASTER BUNNY can be in your picture!!!!! Easter Bunny, will you be in this picture?" And the little 10 year old named Logan inside the costume started shuffling over, but Mom was like "Oh... No, nono, that's fiiiiine. We don't need him in the picture!!"

The lady is obviously not a good photographer. We were all squinting in the sun, and Laura was the only one smart enough to just look away (and the only one that can get away with it...). Not that you can SEE that, since the photo is so zoomed OUT.

When we were done taking the pictures, Logan must have been sick of being the Easter bunny.

I saw this on my drive home from work yesterday. It says "Doom Buggy".

What you can't see is that it is a hearse.

And finally, this picture just makes me laugh. I'm OBVIOUSLY the best actress in the family.

So shocking that Tinker Bell actually landed IN Mom's hands.

Power Outage

Well YESTERDAY was an exciting morning! Sarcasm: check. I struggle to get out of bed. Every. single. morning. It doesn't matter if it is 4AM or 2PM, when my alarm goes off, the only thing that I want to do it turn it off, not even snooze it, turn it COMPLETELY off, roll over and close my eyes once again. Especially if a dream was interrupted. This whole not-wanting-to-wake-up thing is going to REALLY be a pain after Memorial Day when summer hours start, and I'll have to be at the office at 7:15... When I struggle to leave my APARTMENT at 7:15. Shoot. Anyways, yesterday morning was like any other morning, including hitting the snooze 3 times and then having a heart attack when I realized that it was 6:30 ALREADY, and SHOOT if I didn't get in the shower NOW I would look like a wreck at work. So I got up. At 6:50, juuuuuust as I was straightening the last out-of-control piece of hair on my head, the power went out. AWESOME. I stood in my bathroom for about 5 minutes brainstorming. If my power is out, I... ... can't finish styling my hair ... can't put on my make-up ... can't make my bowl of oatmeal ... can't OPEN MY GARAGE DOOR. Ohhhh mother. At 6:54 I called my boss, who I knew would already be at the office. Boss: G'morning this is Sara's boss. Sara: Hiiiiiiiii Bossssss, this is Sara Vanderstappen calling. Boss: ... Are you ok? Sara: Oh yeahhh, I'm juuuuust fine. I might be a little bit late to work today though. You see, my power went out? And I can't open my garage door without the clicker? So... I can't really drive to work without my car... Boss: Alright, Sara, that's just fine. Now, don't start panicking, you'll be alright. For the record, I wasn't panicking at all. But he's seen me panic before - he knows me so well. So, I continued standing in the middle of my living room. In the dark. Then, I decided that I could brush my teeth. Mid-teeth cleaning, the power went back on!!! Using my brains, I threw my toothbrush in the sink (I turned it off first. It's electric. And one time - I have no idea how this happened - it fell out of my mouth while it was still on, and I was really proud of myself because I caught it in my hand, but then I was an idiot again, because I was standing in front of the mirror with my electric toothbrush still on, and there was toothpaste EVERYWHERE. Including in my hair and on my face. Not one of my finer moments...) and ran over to my living room where the clicker to my garage door sits on the entertainment center. I opened my garage door, just in case the power decided to go out again. JUST when I was screwing the top of my mascara back into the base, the power went out AGAIN. UGHHHHHHHH so ANNOYINGGGGGG. And apparently no one else in my building has to get to work at an early hour, so no one else cared. I ate a bowl of cereal, packed my lunch (all in the dark), and was on my way. My garage door stayed open for the day, but it's no big deal because the only thing in my garage is a shovel that cost $3.00. Knock yourself out, thieves. As I was driving, I noticed (kind of hard not to...) that the stoplights were out. Havoc was wreaking among the citizens of Northwest Green Bay! Just kidding, every one was actually really calm, cool, and collected, and took turns and everything so no one got killed. So that was nice. When I got to work, it was pouring rain outside, and so I was "running" from my car to the building, because since it was dark in my apartment when I left, I couldn't find my umbrella. As I was "running" in the pouring rain, I hear something clatter to the ground and fall face-down into a puddle. My phone. UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I picked it up and continued to the building. Upon arrival at my desk, I mopped up my phone and took out the battery. That would have to sit for a little bit. The next thing I did was do a little research about the power outage that I experienced. This is what I found:

Do you see the red? Where "5001+" customers are affected? That's where I live. Great. My phone was doing some crazy stuff all day yesterday, but finally started working normally, and when I got home from work last night after a stop at the mall to return some shoes, a stop at Orange Julius to pick up a little treat for Peter, and a stop at Peter's office where everyone was working WAY late, all of my lights were on. I guess the power went back on around 1. WHEW good thing I thought fast and opened my garage door when the power was on for that little bit of time!! And it's a good thing I had the sense to turn off my straightener so that the building didn't burn down. Because that would have REALLY sucked.

Hiding places

As many of you know, and shame on you if you don't, yesterday was another miraculous holiday where Peter and I went down to Lake Geneva to visit our families and eat copious amounts of food and candy: Easter Sunday.

I am always amazed by two things on this holiday.  The first and more important though I will write less about it is that a man died for our sins and then rose up again.  Astonishing.  Could you IMAGINE running into Jesus after you had seen him crucified only three days ago?  Talk about scared to death... How about scared to LIFE?!  Anyways, during the Easter mass I always think about the shock and awe these people must have experienced.  I am sure that I would have passed out.


The second thing that I'm always amazed by is the Easter bunny.  The Easter bunny that comes to the Vanderstapp-Inn hides baskets and eggs every year.  The Easter bunny that stops by the Romenesko house always remembers that Peter has a girlfriend whose soul purpose on this earth is to eat candy.  I love this bunny.


Can we just call the Easter bunny that stops by the Vanderstappen house Nancy?  I mean, Nancy is so much easier to type than Easter bunny.  Sweet.


Nancy has been hiding Easter eggs and baskets for upwards of 20 years.  I'm not quite sure when the whole finding-the-basket thing started, but let's just guess that it started when Jenna was 4.  And by then, there were 3 kids.  Let's analyze this.


Easter 1990: Jenna (4), Sara (2), Marty (1), Adrianna through Rachel (not even a twinkle in the Easter bunny's eye) = 3 baskets


Easter 1992: Jenna (6), Sara (4), Marty (3), Adrianna (1), Taylor (possibly a fleeting thought in the Easter bunny's mind), Laura and Rachel (Yeah... not even an inkling yet) = 4 baskets


Easter 1994: Jenna (8), Sara (6), Marty (5), Adrianna (3), Taylor (1), Laura (possibly a consideration), Rachel (Rachel WHO?!) = 5 baskets


Easter 1996: Jenna (10), Sara (8), Marty (7), Adrianna (5), Taylor (3), Laura (1),  Rachel (in the womb) = 6 baskets


...


Easter 2011: Jenna (25), Sara (23), Marty (22), Adrianna (20),  Taylor (18), Laura (16), Rachel (14) = 7 baskets


Disclaimer - I'm not that good at math and ages and stuff, but I think I figured out ages and numbers right by careful consideration of everyone's birthdays.  But you get the picture.  Nancy has a LOT of baskets to hide.


On to another calculation: If by Easter of 1997, there were 7 baskets to hide, that is 14 years of the maximum number of baskets to hide.  Now realistically, we have to make that only 6 baskets to hide, because Laura couldn't even find her basket that was behind a picture frame this year, so 6 baskets times 14 years.  That equals EIGHTY FOUR HIDING PLACES.  That is a LOT of hiding places.


The kicker?  Every year, there is at least ONE basket that we can't find.   HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?  We always check the main spots first.  Behind the TV (although I don't think there was EVER a basket there), on the porch, in the oven, in the fridge (we're not that smart), etc.  Although we have a three story home (scary basement, main level, and then upstairs where Nancy's 7 angels soundly sleep (slept)), the hiding places have always been limited to the main level.  Which makes finding 84 hiding places even MORE impressive.  


Every year there is the poor lone child (usually Adrianna or Jenna) that is still looking in every nook and cranny  for their basket while everyone else has set up shop pulling things out of their baskets ooh-ing and aah-ing and indulging in the candy at 7:30 in the morning.  But it's a holiday, so Mom's not allowed to yell at us.


Although, this year, when we were looking for our baskets, Dad said loudly enough for everyone to hear (especially the Easter bunny), "I hope that there isn't ANY candy in the baskets this year.  Who needs candy in this house?  NO ONE.  Who eats it all?  ME."  When we found our baskets, guess who was the second person aside from the owner to dig in?  Dad. Typical.


When we sort through our baskets, we all start making trades with the candy, and then Mom give us the SAME schpeel EVERY year: "I am NOT giving ANY of you ANY more candy.  You are SO unappreciative!  I thought you liked Whoppers!!  How was I supposed to know you didn't like them?!  NEXT YEAR YOU WON'T GET ANY MORE CANDY."  


But the Easter bunny doesn't have a very good memory, because every year we get candy in our baskets and the same scene plays out even though we're older and (supposedly) wiser.  What are you going to do?  Enjoy a Reese's egg.


As soon as we were all hyped up on candy, we were expected to sit quietly through Easter mass.  That is always a challenge.


So anyways, let's all just take a moment and lend our appreciation to the Easter bunny for hiding baskets for so long.


Here's to 20 more years!!


Mom ... I'm not kidding.

You still have time!

Dear everyone,

You still have ONE MORE WEEK to get raffle tickets for Lakeland School's School Fest!  Until April 29 (which happens to be a certain Matt's birthday)!!  If you didn't, read the post about my sister Laura and Lakeland School, and contact me :)

Can we reach the $200 dollar mark of raffle tickets from blog readers alone?!  The last update that I've heard from Nancy is that we have just over $150... soooooo cloooooooose.

On behalf of Laura, my siblings, my parents, and Lakeland School - THANK YOU for the AMAZING support.  It just makes me so happy.

Sara

Ode to my Honda Civic

Oh, Honda Civic, how I love thee.

Today on my odometer, you read sixty thousand and three.

Many the miles that we have shared together,

Through tornadoes and blizzards, and all sorts of weather.

You've gotten me home safely when I was scared to tears,

So much crying, in fact, that I am judged by my peers.

But Honda, you never judge my state of being!

And you've seen them all - experienced more than the boy that I'm seeing!

You have witnessed my rage, my anxiety, and fear,

And yet you still start, so your wheel I can steer.

You let me laugh, shout, sing, and dance,

And you never judge me, like other drivers that look in my window, by chance.

When I stare at other drivers driving along beside me,

You just keep cruising along, even when Peter tells me that through my windows, they can see.

And then when I'm embarrassed, because they caught me staring,

Unlike Peter, you don't scold me, with "I told you so" eyes glaring.

There has only been one time, that I thought about trading you in,

and that was last weekend, when it was raining/snowing like sin.

It wasn't your fault, it was the blasted windshield wipers!

They wanted to be in control, those jealous vipers!!

They suddenly took on a mind of their own.

Even turned off, they still ran full blown!

I tried controlling them, tried every speed!

But those damned wipers just had to have the lead!

Off, slow, and medium they went medium speed,

but the rain didn't last, so the wipers I didn't need.

So there I was, driving along with no rain,

and my wipers were going - oh what a pain.

I was so embarrassed driving with wipers still going,

I looked like an idiot, and those wipers weren't slowing.

When I reached my destination, and turned you, dear Honda, off,

Those wipers, I SWEAR, I heard those wipers scoff.

Oh Honda Civic, with miles of sixty thousand and three,

That's like driving around the world along the equator times two point for-tee!!

I can tell that you care for me, you are no creep,

Especially when I am not buckled, and you let out a beep. 

You let me punch the radio buttons hour after hour,

Because I can't find the song that gives my voice full power.

You don't get mad when you're so salty that it looks like your white,

I'm so happy that even though I don't want to pay for a car wash, you still drive without a fight.

You sit there and wait, when my garage door fails to rise,

When I am about to faint because that door will be my demise.


I was panicking as it was my first day of my new job,
And I was going to be late and look like a slob!


Near tears there I was, trying to get that door open,
I was very near to giving up hopin'.


Brainstorming ways to get to work at eight,
Sweating so much - I couldn't be late!!

When the door finally opened, and I plopped into your seat,

You started with a purr, by the garage door you won't be beat!

When I wave my fist at the way other people drive,

You stay so calm - for this I should strive.


Some days I'm angry; I scream and I yell,
And you just keep going, driving along so well.

You put up with the booster seats of the kids I babysat,

You do not mind when on the phone I chat.

I love that digital speedometer in the shining blue light,

Except when annoying children can see I'm going one mile over and don't shut up about it, then I wish you weren't bright.

Nasty little children, spilling ice cream on the seat belt!

Leaving crayons, candy, and crumbs on your floor, how horrid that must have felt!

But don't you worry dear Honda, when I get a raise,

I will pay for a detail - I will give you my praise!!


Even though your horn sounds like it should be on MarioKart,
I've learned to accept it; I've learned to get smart.


So, Honda Civic, though your horn embarrasses me,
I have still decided to write this ode to thee.

But now I am realizing I might jinx our relationship that's so healthy,
So PLEASE, Honda Civic, don't crap out on me until I'm really, REALLY wealthy. 

Under the knife

Ok, so I know that some weird shit is going down on my blog, but it's currently undergoing some cosmetic surgery, so GEEZE give the good doctor some time to create a masterpiece and stop being so impatient!!!

I'm up to my eyebrows in severe weather.

Not that I want you to feel sorry for me or anything.

But you can if you want.  


We're only expecting like, 10 inches of snow or something.


How is the Easter bunny going to get around this weekend?


I hope he still comes!!!


That reminds me.  


This one time, Jenna and I had to go out to the barn on Easter morning (around 4AM), and when we were in the basement getting ready to go outside, I heard the Easter bunny.


He was coming from upstairs.


We never figured it out.

Facebook friends.

Nancy Vanderstappen is on Facebook.  In college, I was always like, "No WAY would I add you on Facebook!!  Laaaaaaaame." And she was all, "Well, what do you have to hide????" and I was in her face with, "MY OTHER LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!"


But that was a long time ago when I was young and stupid and fought with my mother about silly things.  Which NEVER happens anymore... (right Mom?)


On Wednesday it happened.  I became Facebook friends with my MOTHER.

It's official.  I'm REALLY (gulp), OFFICIALLY friends with my mom now.  Because we all know that something isn't real until it's on Facebook.  It took 23 years.  But here I stand.  

Nancy will enjoy the Facebook world, I'm pretty sure.  A big reason is because she will realize how many of my friends like her based on her comments on my blog.  

Exhibit A:

 Mom is sooooo funny telling everyone how much I like spending her monayyyy.

Exhibit B: 

See?!  She already likes that people want to "like" all of her comments!  PROOF!

I see several problems with this whole Mom-on-Facebook thing...

PROBLEM 1. Is my mother... FUNNIER than me?!  Could this really be happening?!  This is not right!!!  Is she going to steal all of my friends??  I'm getting all worked up, which translates to sweating, and my GOD is that a cold sore I feel coming??  MOM YOU'RE STRESSING ME OUT AND YOU'RE 3 HOURS AWAY FROM ME.

Attention Nancy:  STOP BEING FUNNY.  YOU'RE TAKING THE ATTENTION OFF OF ME AND YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE ATTENTION!!!  

Sighhhhhh

PROBLEM 2.   Now that Nance is on Facebook, she can read all of the comments that I put on my photos.  And now she can fight back.

Exhibit C: 

Clearly, I posted this comment BEFORE I knew she would see it.

Now, I'm going to have to watch what I say!  No making fun of Mom behind her back!  No more sarcastic comments directed at Mom, because they were only made because Mom wasn't supposed to ever see them, and now I can get in TROUBLE for them!

So now, I have to go through my Facebook and delete pictures, comments, ANYTHING that is NOT for my mother's eyes.  Ughhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Really though, I don't mind that my mother is on Facebook.  Because this is her "about me":

Do you see that?  7 beautiful children.  One of those 7 children is me.

And Mom?  You're not allowed to yell at me for throwing that little tantrum about you being funnier than me.  We're friends now, remember?

Severe Weather

Sometimes, I don't know how people put up with me. I'm not kidding here. Looking back on some situations, I realize that if someone was to react the way that I reacted, I would have smacked them upside the head and said, "Get a hold of yourself, woman!! You will be FINE. You big BABY." Thankfully, I am surrounded by people filled with an ocean of more patience than I have. Namely my mother and Peter. Sometimes...

Severe weather is one of these situations. Almost nothing horrifies me more than a tornado warning, aside from audience participation events, but that's another story for another time, as in later this week because I just had a little episode with THAT too. It's been quite the weekend.

So anyways, I think that the root of my problem goes back to my 6th birthday. As you know from the previous post, my birthday is at the end of June (I love presents, FYI), which also happens to be about the peak of tornado season. Between the blizzards and tornadoes, there is almost no better place to grow up than Wisconsin.

I need to stay on topic.

For my 6th birthday, my mom was wonderful and loving and threw me a birthday party. The guest list included my ENTIRE class of like 8 people I think? And my cousin. And we were borrowing a slip and slide from my other cousin, so this was BOUND to be the BEST. BIRTHDAY. EVER.

Except the dang weather. My party had to be re-scheduled twice, once because of a really bad thunderstorm, and then again because of a tornado that has super strong winds (which is, ironically, the definition of a tornado) and knocked down a huge limb off the HUGE tree in our front yard.

When the day of my party FINALLY came, we played on the slip and slide, ate cake, I was the center of attention and opened my presents, and the afternoon ended in the boys (both of them and Marty) watching Bambi downstairs and the girls playing Barbies in my room. Why were we inside on a hot summer day? Because there was a severe thunderstorm that resulted in a power outage and crying. Awesome. Thanks, Mom, for being awesome and keeping everyone calm.

Last November there was a tornado about 3 miles from my parents' house on Mohawk Road. It destroyed our neighbor's farm and was really scary. For this, one would think that I was safely sitting in our scary basement with my family, but nooooo. I HAD to go babysit in a house that lacked a BASEMENT.

After the power went out and I could no longer track the storm, I was constantly texting Peter to check it out for me, because sirens were going off, and police cars were driving around with their sirens on signifying that this WAS serious. Turns out that Peter was in a meeting and computer-less. So, what did I do?

Cleaned out the broom closet aka threw everything that was in the closet into the living room, and then thought better of it and moved the vacuum cleaner REALLY far away because I didn't want to get knocked out by it because of the strong winds. Then, I went into the closet with a flashlight that I found, and sat on the floor trying not to cry. Why was I afraid in the closet?

Because this house had SERIOUS mouse problems. One time, I was at the house in the afternoon with twin 1 who was faking sick, and a mouse had crawled up ONTO THE SCREEN DOOR and was scampering all over it. Still makes me shudder. On an almost nightly basis, I moved my shoes to the couch, and didn't move for hours at a time because I could see the mice scampering around on the kitchen floor and ON THE COUNTER TOPS. And when I say mice, I mean MORE THAN ONE.

So anyways, here I am in the middle of a tornado trying not to cry because not only am I going to die in the tornado by getting hit in the head with a vacuum cleaner because I'm not sure if I moved it far enough away, but I'm also going to be bitten by a mouse that I've SEEN going to and from this closet. And then I'll have rabies, just like that time I got chased by the rabid dog in Ecuador.

ALSO causing my blood pressure to raise through the roof was the fact that I'm the NANNY so I was unaware of the fact that it's some rule at the school to have the kids stay after in severe weather. So I'm thinking that the two boys that I'm responsible for are about to get swept into the wind on the bus.

Throughout the whole event I kept calling my mom and crying to her telling her I was scared. She told me lovingly that I would be OK, and to just bring the boys to our house instead of staying there in the dark. But we didn't have power yet either, so instead we packed up and headed to Illinois to my cousin's house. It was really traumatic.

So then, LAST night, when there was MORE severe weather, I was sitting alone in my apartment on the SECOND FLOOR wondering where to go in the event that there is a tornado, which according to the news, is "more than likely" and "it will be VERY damaging" if it touches down. UGH.

I called my mom.

Sara: Mom. I'm really scared. There's going to be a tornado.

Mom: Yeah, we're watching the news. You'll be ok! Why don't you go to Peter's?

Sara: Because he lives on the second floor too, and I don't want him to think I'm a baby.

Meanwhile, I'm texting Peter.

Sara: I'm watching the weather, and they're talking about tornadoes and I don't know where to go for a tornado in my apartment.

Peter: In the lockbox?

Sara: Where is that?

Peter: It's an SNL skit.

Sara: Peter. This is not something to joke about! You forget that that last time I was in a tornado warning a whole farm 3 miles from my house got wiped out!!!!!!

Sara: I'm really scared over here!!

Peter: Well. We are playing Monopoly Deal.

Sara: I should have come over. But I'm not leaving now!!!

Peter: I can't wait to read your blog about this weekend.

Sara: I can't wait until my blood pressure goes down!

Sara: The sirens are going off...

Peter: Thunderstorm warnings?

Sara: No. Tornado for SW part of Brown County.

Peter: Aren't we north?

Sara: Yes, but I'm still scared.

Peter: We'll be fine.

Sara: Just promise me that someday we will have a BASEMENT.

Sara: Tornado touchdown in Kaukauna. On top of it all, it's 78 degrees in my apartment. I'm sweating to death.

Sara: Ok. The worst is past us. Thank God.

During that whole conversation, I was sitting about a foot in front of the TV looking at the towns and things, since I don't know the area all that well, and sweating to death, looking out my window and being scared to death.

When the warning FINALLY passed, I texted my mom.

Sara: Alright. Worst is past. I can finally breathe again. Already dreading summer storms...

Mom: Wow! You held your breath that whole time? You are awesome and must have super powers :)

Sara: MOM I WAS REALLY SCARED!!!!!!!!

Mom: I know. That's why I didn't go to bed yet. Until I knew you were safe and calm.

Sara: You're so nice. I'm safe and calm now, and I asked Peter for a basement for my birthday.

When I finally went to bed because my emotions were all exhausted, I called Peter.

Peter: Are you ok now?

Sara: Yes. Sorry I'm such a baby. I think the tornado in November had a bigger impact on me than I thought it did.

Peter: I think you're right...

Things I won't tell you. Or can't tell you.

FIRST. I want to give a huge shout-out and HUG to all of the people that have bought raffle tickets for School Fest at Lakeland School. You are AWESOME. It is SO heartwarming to get your emails about how you would LOVE to give. Through blog-readers alone, over $150 has been raised for Lakeland School! That is AMAZING!!! If you haven't yet, read my post about my favorite sister. If you don't want to buy a ticket, that's fine, seriously. I like it a lot as an FYI type of a post.

Anyways. On to other things.

Someone asked me the other day why I haven't written a blog in a while. Guess what. Sometimes, people lead boring lives and don't HAVE entertaining stories to tell. Really.

You don't want to hear about how I was in California for a week (Disneyland for one day) roasting in the 105* weather. I went with Nancy, Jenna, Tay, and Sonia - Taylor's BFFL (best friend for life for those of you who aren't all hip with the internet lingo). We shopped. We baked in the sun. We told the people that shared the pool with us that no, we do not want to play the game of keep-away with you in the pool, because we are not fun people. Please.

You don't want to hear about how when I was in California, my hairline got REALLY sunburned (who remembers to put sunscreen in their hair?) and on the like, second day that I was there it was all peeling and scaley and gross, and my sisters kept being like "EW Sara, your face is GROSS", so on Wednesday when we were shopping I bought a hat (a classy Tommy Hilfiger white tennis-esque baseball cap) and wore it every time that we were in the sun which was all the time, and then they made fun of THAT. THANKS.

You don't want to hear about how Peter picked me up from the airport and then we went to dinner and I got pizza sauce on my brand new shirt that I had JUST taken the tags off of. And that I'm wearing said shirt again today and just noticed a stain on the arm. Seriously?

You don't want to hear about how when I came in to work on Monday morning, my desk was a mess and I had over 200 unread messages in my inbox. And the first one that I opened was in Spanish in ALL CAPS LOCK WONDERING WHY I WASN'T RESPONDING TO THEIR URGENT REQUEST. Well. If you would have read the away message that I had up, you would KNOW that I was GONE and you would KNOW who to CONTACT in my ABSENCE. I KNOW that it is hard to live without me, but PLEASE. TRY.

You don't want to hear about how Wednesday they did a construction project on my cubicle while I was SITTING in it, and now everyone comes back to my dead-end and tells me how much room I have. Who cares? What am I going to do, sprawl out on the floor and take a nap or something? Do stretches around 2:30 to rejuvenate me for the rest of the day?

You don't want to hear how I went grocery shopping at a super sketchy grocery store that smelled like cigarette smoke, had expired milk, and didn't give me any bags to bag my groceries. So I had to bring them all ($42.91 worth of groceries) to my car in the cart and pile them in my backseat, and then take about 17 trips back and forth, up and down my stairs, to and from my car to get them all onto my kitchen table/counter/living room floor where they are still sitting today.

Then, there are the things that I WANT to write about but CAN'T, because I really like my job (aside from emails in all CAPS in a foreign language), and because I don't want anyone (ahem, Peter) to get upset because I told them that I wouldn't.

Like, I want SO badly to tell you about the conversations that Peter and I had on our car ride to western Wisconsin last weekend on our way to my friends' wedding. The reason I'm not going to tell you about how Peter used to get into fights in grade school, and got SUSPENDED for it, is because I don't want to provoke that fiery temper. Although, the last time he hit someone (that I'm aware of) was to defend me (another story, for another time), so I mean hey, I love someone who's willing to throw a punch for the love of their life. But there WAS that one time that he elbowed me in the head in his sleep, but I don't like sharing that because I don't want people to think that he did it on purpose.

I can't tell you about how I came into work one day this week and someone was wearing an eye patch, and when I was talking to them, they said "aye", which made me want to laugh because you just CAN'T say that when you have an eye patch on. You can't do it. It's like, an un-written law or something.

I can't tell you that I'm DYING to know what Peter is getting me for my birthday, because he reads this blog, and I don't want him to know how CRAZY he is making me for telling me that he knows what he's getting me even though my birthday is not until the END of JUNE. And he KNOWS that I HATE it when he does that.

But I can tell you that I started laughing really hard the other day when Peter said this:

Seriously.