A day in the life...

The other night, I'm at H.E.B. in the Vintage.  For those of you outside of Texas (or Mexico) that's a pretty darn awesome grocery store.  So cool, in fact, I take visitors there to check it out.  Ask Bethany.  Anyway, I'm in the parking lot, riding this really awesome beach cruiser-style bike with those big old handle bars and banana seat.  It might have had a basket, I don't remember.  It's an eerie, inky black outside, except for a few parking lot security lights and I'm kinda cruisin' around the parking, making figure eights, like it's my mission.  I suddenly make a bee-line for the corner of the lot, next to the exit, and go up this little hill, that I swear was never there before.  Suddenly, I'm riding through thick sludge that resembles green and yellow frosting, though in the shape of blades of grass.  It's really hard to peddle through, but I truck on, because it must be done.  Out of no where, I start to hear a high-pitched, menacing cackle, very similar to the laughter in Call of Duty: Black Ops Zombies.  As I turn the bike, I notice two girls I went to high school loading groceries into a black SUV.  They were a couple of years ahead of me in school, and one of their names escapes me.  They look at me with disgust as I try to frantically get through the sludge.  The laughter and darkness is really starting to scare me.  Lurking just to my left I suddenly spot Biscuit, my brother-in-law's Chihuahua-looking dog who weighs about 10 pounds and has the craziest spike-y dog hair cut you've ever seen.  She has more of an underbite than usual and has three yellow, snarly teeth sticking out of her bottom jaw, almost long enough to touch her nose.  I realize that the cackle is definitely coming from her, although she's being sneaky about it, so the girls don't know it's her.  I'm shaking by now, terrified this little mongrel is going to snatch me up and the girls are looking at me like I'm an idiot.  I can tell they recognize me, but can't remember my name either.  Since they're watching me now, I know now is my chance to escape Biscuit.  I make a break for my right, exiting the parking lot onto Center Street, right across from Rock Springs Honda/Toyota.

Now this is the point where my subconscious and my conscious mash up and I realize something is wrong.  How the hell did I get from Houston to Rock Springs, Wyoming in one turn?  Ah...a dream.  A crazy one. And one that is a sign that my husband has been playing too much Call of Duty.  And one that I had such a hard time going back to sleep after, I felt I had to share it.

Kitchen Update

I don't know how people survive major home renovations.  We got our counters replaced last Thursday and then being the do-it-yourself-ers we are, decided to update a few other things in our kitchen.  Nothing big - just trying to make things a little prettier.  Anyway, we finally got the oven hooked back up yesterday but my sink has been out of commission for 5 days now and it's driving me crazy.  We need to figure out how to hook that drain back up asap!

To be continued...

socks

I used to hate socks.  Like seriously.  I never wore them.  I was a big flip flop and sandal fan, even though I grew up somewhere where it snows at least nine months out of the year.  My feet are always cold so I figured it didn't really make much of a difference if I wore socks or not.  My mom and I used to argue about my aversion to socks often.

Something about being really barefoot makes you feel so reckless and carefree.  Especially being barefoot outside, which I used to do a lot with Raven and Alisa.  Sometimes Alisa and I would chase Raven barefoot through the mud with earthworms because she was the girliest of us all and would freak out - but that's part of another story.

Last week, as I was getting ready for work, I put on my socks first.  There I stood, in all my nakedness - except for the socks, of course - and realized how weird it is for me that I really love socks now.  A few months ago, I was really sick and wound up in the hospital, and I actually sent my husband home to get a particular pair of socks for me and I actually felt better when I put them on - kinda like a kid with a band-aid.  Lately I really like the security of socks.  They are taut, and snug against my feet, and I feel like everything is in its place when I have my socks on.  Maybe this is a sign of growing older, or maybe wiser - I'd rather feel secure and comforted than careless and wild.  Don't ever let me be too old to let my hair down and take my socks off once in a while.

pieces of paper

Paper doesn't cost much.  Everyone has some.  Most of us probably take it for granted.  It is, however, a pretty significant thing sometimes.

I've traced my hands on colorful, construction paper.  I practiced my handwriting and multiplication on wide-ruled notebook paper.  I passed notes in class and I typed book reports on paper.  I took the written driver's license test on scantron paper.  I got to walk across a stage with my friends to get my paper high school diploma, not long after I received college acceptance letters on university letterhead.

My first paychecks were paper.  My college diplomas, too.  And my marriage license.

Today marks the first anniversary of my marriage to a wonderful man - my best friend and partner in the world.  The first anniversary is the "paper anniversary".  I think that's pretty fitting for yet another fantastic milestone in life.

Now it's time to see if that wedding cake is still any good...