Monday, May 02, 2005

you know it's a good party when

the guy and his date both come back with bruises.

Okay, maybe not. But it was still pretty funny.

Mine are on my left knee and right shin. A little piece of advice for all you future-oriental-rug-owners--use carpet pads so those things don't skid around on wood floors.

He "wrassled" with his dad, and his right shoulder got friendly with the ground.

I met a lot of family members, and they were either nice or super fun. I had a good time. I was kind of pissed when all the young folk ran ahead and left me walking behind them. I guess no one heard me say I didn't run unless there was a ball involved. But I hung back and waited for the parents and grandmother Helen (yes, Jess, that's her name!) and all was well. We took the shortcut and I got to talk to his mom about cooking and the lady wearing yellow heels on the walk and I threw a football with his dad and talked about fun variations on sports. We danced, threw the football some more, ate, and then I was thankful for beer and pizza, as I mentioned before. Then it was party time.

Yesterday was church, napping, errands and homework. Sometimes it's good to have someone to spurn you on.

A question though--am I too picky? And what's the difference between being picky and knowing what you want.

Like, having a certain kind of bread you wanna buy...is that picky? And, more to the point, does it warrant the comment, "wow, you're even picky about your bread." Do most people just buy what's on sale. Is this a girl thing? Hmm.

Also, Sterling's and my Project:Super Secret Phase I is complete. The man spent 53 consecutive hours awake to complete it. Well done. More details on this to come. I'm hoping maybe I can draw the sunflower for the cover or spine or something.

time to go to work now. with a sore arm, two bruises and a bit of a sunburn from riding around in a jeep with the top down and the doors removed. but I had a fun weekend. did you?

3 comments:

care said...

Oh goodie.
Whew.

Here's how it went down...we were at the grocery store getting (duh!) groceries. I went to the bread aisle and said
“I’m not even sure if they have the kind of bread I like here.”
After looking for two-ish seconds I said
“Oh, wait, they do.”
After five seconds I said,
“Hey, wait, they only have all the other kinds of it—and this wheat one has seeds on the outside.”
Pause
Quietly the picky comment was made.
And then after maybe three more seconds of me looking I found the bread, the one loaf of my type left, and there was much rejoicing, and a little pouting about having been referred to as “picky.”

And, for the record, all I wanted was regular old Home Pride Wheat Bread. None of that honey or seed business. I don’t think he knew it bothered me. And I’m much less bothered by his comment than I am afraid that I might actually be too picky—I used to be terribly picky, and I’ve been making a concerted effort to not be so picky anymore. I thought I was doing quite nicely. Perhaps I am.

Also--he and his dad tied. No one was trying to win, but I think if someone would have it would have been Otto, who’s three inches taller and has wider shoulders too. I’ll have to see if he’s ever beaten his dad…

SJ said...

HAHAHAHAHA.

It's good to know someone else seeks out the Home Pride Wheat bread too. It's absolutely my favorite bread.

Call me sometime!

SJ said...
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