Let’s be realistic.
#103What The Health Articles In The Women’s Magazines Really Boil Down To, Every Month:
Stories can either gain or lose something in the retelling. Driving by our old La Jolla place today, we told the story of the dummy apartment lady that gave us a place then gave it away. I can’t find it – but here’s this link – proof that things can be amazing.
Sure, we PLANNED to move to Utah. But we were basically EVICTED. I didn’t give all the details here but the truth of the matter is, we would have been homeless but were TAKEN IN. So I’m thinking about my awesome brother, how he’s moving out to San Diego – I think it’s finally safe to announce that here – and how great it is that when he gets here, he has my house until he has his. And he has us.
Some people have nothing. We had BB and TB to turn to when honestly we had no where else to go. Life can be really amazing, and people can be so giving that it hurts your heart to know how great they are. Sure we knew each other a long time – but opening your house speaks volumes. Them letting us stay with them until our lease started, it wasn’t a little thing, it was huge. And I hope that everyone gets to experience that kind of generosity.
Telling MB that story, seeing him crack up, rethinking the whole “what are we going to do” moment, those memories stick!
Yesterday, I spent the day at the beach with MR and BD. I’m still getting to know BD and discovered she was a teacher, kindergarten last year and 3rd grade coming up this fall. I had to ask what it was like – teaching was my lifelong dream until I realized just because I talk a lot doesn’t make me qualified.
Her stories centered around the first couple months of school – saying that was by far the hardest, once the kids got the idea of ‘school’ and ‘schedule’ it was a good time. But I didn’t even think of some of the things she was able to say she’s seen – children unable to take their ‘potty breaks’, and teachers nervous about lawsuits if they helped. Crazy stuff. I love talking to people in all lines of work and learning the things you’d never assume.
The day also gave me cause to reflect. As I was going to bed last night, I noted that I can vividly remember kindergarten. Not just from stories I’d heard, but my own consciousness. I have memories from before that, we moved when I was 5 or 6, and I remember the apartment prior to the house. I remember the kindergarten room, the test of knowing your shapes and colors, and my mom telling me how well I did. My grandmother was a teacher and she was helping me learn any time I was with her. I remember milk and snack time, and the little walls made of these cardboard “bricks” to separate us at our six-sided tables, the crayons that were the same shape as the table.
Thinking of BD teaching 3rd grade was different. I tried to remember 1st, 2nd, 3rd and so on as I fell asleep. Some vague ideas of things happening are there – the teacher who gave me “A Secret Garden”, the boy of my dreams moving to town, the meanest teacher, getting glasses – but not as vivid as my recollections before that time. I might remember that better than high school – I’m still trying to forget some of those! 🙂
How about you? What are your strongest or oldest memories?
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
This is the second time we took a trip to the fair. I loved it last year (here’s that post) and since DW would disintegrate in any more direct sun, the fair provided an option since the beach was out. Unfortunately since it was the last weekend, and the day before the holiday that everyone was off from work, we spent an hour getting there. It was worth it when we got our Zucchini Weenie though!
That’s right, they actually listed it in the program as the newest feature food of the fair. The description is a simple one: a hot dog, in a zucchini, fried in batter. It was at the stand that also featured the fried chicken in a Krispy Kreme donut, the fried mushrooms, the fried ice cream cookie sandwich, the fried Twinkie, and the fried Oreos.
Fair food is hilarious. There is no light snack. There is splurge after splurge. Fried food in general, fair food, etc., is a big treat. Well, at least for us. There were people in that line that I’m not sure realized that all their problems could be solved by stepping out of that line. Maybe not solved, but let’s call it a step. There were multiple people in those carts driving themselves because they were too big to walk in that line. I just don’t understand…
Party time!
#102Five Ways To Celebrate The Fourth Of July In Style:
How about some zombies!?!??
Legoland is the perfect fun zone for children ages 6 to 13. Or ages 30 to 35.
DW is my buddy for all things I’ve always wanted to do but never got the chance. This is a great post about one of our adventures together. So with him here I had a buddy (couldn’t believe CH turned me down) to drive up to Carlsbad and pay too much money (I will swear forever I was not the one in charge of the coupon) to see Legos. Legos everywhere. Rides were for small children, even though we made our way on to a few. MK let us go be happy and excited, and took our picture so often the camera battery died.
We watched screaming crazy kids run through water, look at Lego Miniland, and eat junk food. And I might just be speaking for myself (but I doubt it) when I say: these things are much funner without the kids. The kids are what most adults are even there for, but we were there for us.
We (I) keep telling the joke, we’re going to have kids that want to go, and we’ll just say, “Nah. Mom and Dad went, here are thie pics. Look how much fun we had! You wouldn’t have that much fun. The lines were long. This is close enough”.
Ever since being totally hooked on the move Love Actually, I am a big fan of airports. Happy or sad, they are places filled with emotional reunions and tearful goodbyes. DW was late yesterday and MK and I sat coffee in hand and watched the men anxiously waiting with bouquets in their hands. It makes me feel all gooey on the inside.
San Diego, from what I understand, is the Number One tourist destination/vacation travel spot for the 4th of July holiday. The airport was certainly busy. But I don’t mind the parking and running in, I enjoy the people watching. I haven’t traveled in a little while (well, at least for us) and got all nostalgic thinking about my last few trips, happy and sad, to see my friends in Austin and my family back East.
What is an airport to you? A big pain in the butt to have to deal with to get somewhere or a unique place to see life?
We were talking the other night about marriage. We like to think we’re pretty good at it so far. We do a lot of married things, but also are just such good friends we love being around each other. We bicker all the time – we think it’s funny to always disagree, make bets, impose punishments, google things and learn. But we don’t fight. Not a lot. When we do though, is what we were talking about. MK made me realize that I do the most hilarious thing on the planet every time we fight.
I make him let me win, and he can only redeem himself by taking me out to dinner. MK doesn’t cook, so he hates eating out for anything more than a 2$ taco. To him (duh) it’s so much easier to sit around at home and wait for me to cook.
So the thing is, I don’t let him take me just anywhere. I apparently have repeatedly forced the man to take me to: The Olive Garden.
Let me be very clear about something, I don’t mean to offend anyone with this. We went there growing up every once in a while and it was considered a treat (wait, that just helps the point I’m about to make…). But the fact of the matter is- Olive Garden is pretty white trash. I mean super white trash. There’s got to be a better way to put it than that, but that’s all I can think of. Going there for dinner for me is like watching a really trashy reality TV show. You look around and everyone is drinking White Zinfandel and Blushes (PINK WINE!) and hiding breadsticks in their purses to bring home (guilty) and yelling at the kids as they throw crayons at each other and run around the table screaming their lungs out.
But it can’t really be white trash because every time we eat there we end up with a 40$ bill. For noodles that I TOTALLY could have made at home. That’s why I like it. You make me mad, you let someone else make the pasta. And I get some free entertainment.
Cat Killfoil 