I had to RSVP ‘no’ to a dear friend’s wedding yesterday.
It was pretty much devastating.
Very unlike the amazing blanket fort we constructed for a slumber party in my living room sophomore year of college or the infamous toast burning (then tossing) dinner during one of our girls’ nights senior year – both with our third musketeer, Julia. Those, on the contrary, I’d classify as nine parts epic success to one part devastation.
This is ten parts devastation.
As a recent bride I know how eagerly and excitedly you await the arrival of those RSVPs and how every ‘no’ from someone you love, even as understandable as they all are, sting a little. I am beyond sad to have to miss out on such a special occasion and bummed to have to pass along that fresh feeling of disappointment to such a sweet lady especially after being bestowed with the honor of an invitation.
The pitfalls of living 1,200 miles away from your friends, huh?
Sigh.
At least it was taco night last night. That has to count for something.
Who might this sweet little darling be? She’s the 12 wk old kitten Ted rescued from a tree last night! My co-worker Anna sent out a Facebook post around 9 o’clock yesterday evening requesting the help of anyone with a tall ladder near the Mt. Washington area to help her get a stuck kitten out of a tree at her apartment complex. The kitten was about 25 ft. up and had been clinging to the lofty branch for over two days without food or water. She was terrified to climb down and mewed loudly and desperately every time a person passed by her tree, pleading for their attention and help. A regular ladder wasn’t tall enough to reach her and both the fire department and humane society turned down prior phone calls to help the stranded, frightened little girl. We were enjoying an episode of Master Chef when I checked Facebook and saw the post at about 9:15.
Kitten in need of rescue? Pull, heartstrings, pull! We have a tall extension ladder just aching to be used, and we only live six minutes from her apartment complex! Between my whining, the pathetic look on my face, the realization that his wife wouldn’t sleep that night (meaning, he wouldn’t sleep that night either) if she knew there was a terrified, hungry, dehydrated kitten out there that we didn’t help, and because he’s a stand up kind of guy, it didn’t take long for us to load the extension ladder into the truck, along with a few work lights, extension cords, thick gloves to protect against kitty claws, and a can of tuna – for good measure.
One look at the tree was enough to see that even the tall extension ladder wasn’t going to cut it. The kitten looked down and cried, her little eyes glistening in the moonlight. These are the moments that I am proud to have a smart husband and a tall, manly pick-up truck. Ted backed the bed of the truck up against the trunk of the tree, unfolded the ladder, and positioned it precariously with the base of the ladder on the tailgate and the top of the ladder leaning against the tree. Anna and I stood on the base to secure it. Ted climbed up, up, up into the canopy of branches. Even on tiptoe at the top rung of the ladder, arm outstretched, the kitten was still about a foot away. The kitten was happy to see Ted, but too scared to jump down into his one free hand.
It took a lot of reaching, a little coaxing, and some sweet talking before the kitten was able to show Ted what she wanted him to do. She nudged his hand with her outstretched paw over to the trunk of the tree. She slid her tiny head under his hand so he could grab her by the scruff of her neck. Once he had a hold of her, he readjusted her so his hand was under her rib cage. He carried her down the ladder and plopped her into an awaiting cat carrier. She never used her claws or thrashed her body. She was simply relieved to be rescued. Ted says she was the sweetest kitten he’d ever come across.
I thanked him profusely for being my hero and an all-around amazingly sweet guy to dangerously rescue an animal he’s not even fond of and highly allergic to late on a Monday night. I told him he’d already accomplished his good deed for the month and it’s only August 1! What an over-achiever ;-)
If you live in the area and you’re in the market for a sweet friend, she’s looking for a loving home. Can you say no to this sweetness?
I’m not complaining – August is my favorite month of the year! I love August. It smells of blinding sunlight and chlorinated swimming pools, tan lines, baseball, steaming asphalt, and ice cream, It wreaks of sunscreen, barbecues, camping, and last-ditch road trips to the lake house. It screams of sleepovers, late night movie marathons, and the final, precious days of the freedom and glory of a sweet, sweet summer. It smells of back to school and the lingering thoughts of a new fall wardrobe, eye exams, dental appointments, vaccinations and haircuts, class schedules, homeroom teachers, and fresh school supplies. Mmm, office supplies…
August also smells of my birthday (It’s a big one folks – quarter of a century!), Ted’s birthday (30 again!), my mom’s birthday, Ted’s sister’s birthday, Ted’s brother-in-law’s birthday, my sister-in-law’s birthday, my nephew’s birthday, a cousin’s birthday, my grandma’s birthday, and the birthdays of a ton of friends as well. I sincerely hope I left no one out. As you can see, it’s a packed social schedule.
And this year it’s an especially amazing month.
I’m stoked to be hitting the big 2-5, going on a wonderfully relaxing and exciting honeymoon, choosing new digs to call our home for next year, and I’ll be getting started working with a great theater position I have lined up.
I’m in awe of what life dishes out.
August, I am so ready to enjoy the heck out of you!
Is it bad that my favorite stand at the Farmers Market is Donna’s Gourmet Cookies?
Oh, it is?
Too bad.
What Donna’s Gourmet Cookies have to do with farm fresh produce plucked from the Earth two days ago and sold today by a bearded, suntanned farmer is beyond my realm of reasoning. But clearly, I’m not complaining. It’s the first stand I scan the aisle for and, I’ll be honest, I’m a little crushed when they’re not there. But they were there yesterday morning and I had quite a corundum on my hands choosing between the soft chocolate chip, the flaky snickerdoodle, and the baked doughnut. For those of you who are aghast that at a Farmers Market full of fresh, sun-ripened, healthy, and flavorful produce all I can focus on is the damn cookies, fear not. I do patronize the stands of zucchini, green beans, herbs, tomatoes, eggs, peaches, and peppers…after I wolf my way through sweet goodness first.
Here, in fact, is picture proof of that very statement. Green beans so much tastier and plumper than the shrimpy, skinny guys in grocery stores, a zucchini bursting with flavor, and a banana pepper than I accumulated quite by accident when I clumsily dropped a quarter into one of the farmer’s baskets and since it was irretrievable she offered me a banana pepper because they go for $0.25 – an even trade. I love banana pepper, but I’ve never cooked with it before. Here’s to trying something new! If you have any good banana pepper recipes, you know where to find me. Lopsided chick, lane 29.
Do you know what else I did yesterday? I went berry picking!
“It’s not like my children to be secretive, and it’s not like my children to be late for dinner.”
“We just told you, Father. We were berry picking!
“Oh! I forgot. You were berry picking! What kind of berries?”
“Strawberries!”
“It’s, uh, too early for strawberries”
“Well, it’s been so cold lately they’ve turned blue.”
Shame on you if you don’t know what movie this quote is from. On the off chance you’re still clueless, it’s from The Sound of Music, a movie I loved so dearly as a child (and, um, adult) that I had it memorized. Once upon a college I performed in this show too. I’ll spare you the pictures, but it was a blast.
Back to the berry picking. Out in Milford, a half hour drive from our place in Anderson, there’s a farm called Rouster’s Apple House. They grow all kinds of fruit and make yummy cider from their apples. On Saturdays during the summer they also host “pick your own fruit” in their orchards. I was told it starts at 8 a.m. and that I should plan to arrive right when they open. “Oh, really?,” I thought. “And just how crowded could this place possibly be on a Saturday morning at 8 a.m.?”
Let me tell you how many people in Cincinnati have a hankering to pick fruit at sunrise on a Saturday morning. A lot. I arrived at 8:10 and there had to have been 150 cars packed in the parking lot already. My words tasted delicious, in case you were wondering.
I’ve been fruit picking twice in my life. Blackberry picking with my sister and niece Jenn (on Chincoteague Island in Virginia I think) back around 1997ish, and strawberry picking in Germany during the summer of 2005.
Here’s a few pointers I garnished from my recent picking experience:
1. Don’t be a smart ass. If they say arrive at 8 a.m., it means get there by 7:45.
2. Old people are vultures. Apparently blackberry picking is a serious business when you’re 79. I do not own special picking baskets with handles or a berry picking stool. Furthermore, I have no desire reach up into the inner depths your personal blackberry bush to commander the goods, so quit the scowling granny. And save some for the rest of us, huh?
3. Showering before you go is a ridiculous notion and an abysmal waste of time. Especially if it rained the night before. The bushes will be full of water, and so too will you. You’ll also be covered in mud and smashed berries, so heads up. P.S., If you didn’t learn this the first time around from my Blackberry-Thyme Margarita epic fail, blackberries stain. Wear ugly clothes.
4. Your mouth is not the bucket. Tempting as it may be to plop them all in there, I recommend tasting one blueberry from each bush and if you like the taste from that tree, stick with it.
5. Little kids will announce where all the awesome berries are, so listen up. “Hey dad! I found the best tree with the biggest blueberries EVER over here!” is your cue to find the kid and score big.
6. Whereas you’ll fork over a hefty wad of cash at the grocery store for a small pint of berries you can pick thousands on your own for far less money. A significant savings, more than quadruple the number of the berries, and a family bonding experience? You really can’t go wrong.
Wait, what’s this? Those aren’t blueberries! Nope. They’re cupcakes from SugarPlum Cupcakery in Milford. I couldn’t resist picking up a special treat for me and Ted – we eat healthy all week, so I think a weekend treat is well deserved. His is the Carrot Cake Cupcake and mine is the Cincinnati – a chocolate cupcake stuffed with a Bavarian cream filling and topped with caramel cream cheese. These, amazingly, have not made their way into our stomachs yet. I’ll let you know the verdict when they do. I suspect it will be electrifying.
While we’re on the subject of food, here’s what I eat while my husband is away at lighting conferences.
Whitefish Ceviche served atop onion-flavored Magic Pop crackers - made with red onion, avocado, seasoned cod, mango, cilantro from my herb garden, jalapeno, and lime juiceSauteed sea scallops in a soy sauce, ginger, and minced garlic marinade atop a bed of some kind of clear Japanese glass noodles with green onion for garnishLime seasoned cod with sauteed tomatoes, mushrooms and fresh spinach leaves cooked in wine served with salted black beans
While Ted’s out of town I tend to try the meals that I know will interest me, but that he’d steer clear of. I also have to show off my basil plant because it is finally thriving after months of babying it. My spearmint, on the other hand, is having nothing of the whole “life and growth” nonsense. You win some, you lose some. I have no movie quotes about spearmint or basil…sorry.
Lest you think all I did this week was eat or think about eating, I did, in fact, do something other than entertain my taste buds. I went cosmic bowling on Friday night for ten games until my shoes crapped out on me after at least eight years of neglect (the nerve!), I spent Saturday afternoon at the library and coffee shop catching up on some reading, I got crafty with a quickie art project, and played some Wii video games well into the evening. This morning I hit up church and washed the laundry. My tennis shoes, apparently, aren’t going to clean themselves after their romp in the berry orchards yesterday. This afternoon I intend to take a field trip to the Mt. Washington swimming pool. It’s only the end of summer and I’ve finally located a public swimming pool in our area. Here’s hoping it isn’t sketchy. What’s summer without a dip in the pool once or twice anyhow?
I sincerely hope your weekend has been as relaxing as mine has been. Because we all deserve a little break once in a while. :-)
You know, the one in which I complained that I didn’t have anything quite epic enough to write about for Epic Fail Friday?
Obviously, you know what this means…
An immediate epic fail was born.
Don’t complain about something unless you actually want it to happen. Universe, you are a clever trickster!
This is my bowling shoe.
Approximately two hours before this picture was taken by yours truly (note the excellent photography skills) I was psyched because I not only realized that I hadn’t thrown away my ancient bowling shoes like I thought I did, but I actually located them in, of all places, my under-bed shoe rack and would never have to pay $3 to rent bowling shoes again! Amazing!
Earlier that day I’d sent Ted a text whining that I needed new bowling shoes because I didn’t have mine anymore and paying $3 to rent bowling shoes is asinine. Lo and behold my friends, ask and ye shall receive, seek and ye shall find.
Off I went, new found shoes and all, to Cherry Grove Lanes to bowl ten games (let me repeat that in case you missed it…ten games) for $15 in an hour and half. What? Doesn’t everyone spend their Friday nights alone bowling until their fingers bleed?
Did I mention it was cosmic bowling?
It was :-)
As I was saying, ten games. I was on game number eight, full of youthful stamina and having myself a grand old time when the entire sole of my right bowling shoe decided to peace out. Take a hike. Go on vacation.
Okay, that’s cool.
I’m a trooper. And the night is young! And I’ve still got a full hour left to cram as many games into my $15 as I possibly can. Who cares that I’m now a good two inches taller on my left side, lopsided, and look like a goon? Not I, obviously. Have you seen what I wear to work? The show must go on.
And on it went. I bowled a 122 – my best score of the day!
Put that in your pipe and smoke it broken shoe. Oh and P.S. – It’s called shoe glue and I have some. Not so clever now, are you?
Somewhere around the end of game nine my broken shoe, Righty, had had enough of smoking his pipe. Righty, I assume, had a little chat with Lefty and before I knew it, I was left utterly and completely sole-less while my two bowling shoe soles were sipping cherry cokes and catching some black light rays underneath the stage left stool.
I, in the meanwhile, was bowling in nothing more than ballet slippers and basking in the deja vu of a certain pair of roller blades from, oh I don’t know…1997?, whose wheels broke apart into multiple pieces mid-stride not three weeks ago.
My possessions need to stop communicating with one another.
After game ten I decided it would be prudent of me to tempt fate no more, even though I still had a full thirty minutes left with which to sucker every last game out of my fifteen bucks. I gathered what remained of my shoes, and my dignity, and left a mere five games shy of my $1 a game cosmic bowl-a-palooza.
Laaaaame.
I texted Ted insisting that I needed new bowling shoes.
Again.
The moral of the story is this: It would behoove you to replace, or use for that matter, your crap more frequently than once every fifteen years if you want it to function.
If you’re looking to rid yourself of some roller blade wheels or bowling shoes, you know where to find me. Lopsided chick, lane 29.
Surprisingly, not much has happened this week worthy of an Epic Fail Friday post. Sad, I know. With the exception of my annual eye exam (which is always a humiliating epic fail) I haven’t made a blundering fool of myself yet. This week has been pretty tame as far as a standard week goes.
I do have a preponderance of work-related epic fails (preponderance I tell you!), as to be expected when working with the lunacy and ignorance that is the general public. Not to mention it is raging hot outside, so this apparently gives people license to act especially stupid or do ridiculous things like complain about free stuff. To anyone who does not work where I work, the erratic behavior we deal with daily isn’t quite as asinine. I could regale you with tale upon tale of all the crap I’ve dealt with this week, but you’d probably get nothing more out of it than an amazed snicker, eye roll, and audible sigh at people’s lack of ability to read or behave like a respectable human being. I could tell you about the fortune cookie from last week that was so stale that I could roll and unroll it like dough. While that’s a definite fail, it’s not very amusing. I’m planning to go bowling by myselfon a Friday night, which could be an epic fail because it would be a bunch of beer-guzzling, chain-smoking old dudes…and me…thought I just might stay for cosmic bowling because black light bowling is amazing. I could tell you about my friend Sara’s personal essay questions for the GRE, which were apparently an epic fail (along with her deodorant today, she says). Or there’s the epic fail of the slightly worn out (I read) ship that’s going to dry dock to be completely renovated about two weeks after we disembark her. Sadly, none of this is particularly interesting or epic failing enough to take up an entire blog post. If you have anything wonderful to share, please feel free to post it in comments below to spice up this lackluster blog! Today’s post is all about teamwork. So, as my favorite sign in Cincinnati says “hop right to it!” – It’s from Kangaroof, a roof repair company! :-)
I scheduled my annual eye exam this morning to check up on the general health of my peepers and to update my prescription for contacts and glasses. The conversation, as it usually does, went something like this.
Eye Doctor: Hi Lara, I’m Doctor PerfectVision. So, what brings you in this morning?
Lara: I’m just in for my annual eye exam and a new prescription for my glasses and contacts.
Eye Doctor: Have you noticed a change in your vision that makes you think you need a new prescription?
Lara: Not really. But every year after I make a raging fool out of myself during the eye exam, I’m always written a stronger prescription, so I’m just assuming it’s about that time of the year again.
Eye Doctor: Alright, well let’s take a look to see where you’re at. Cover your left eye. Can you read the bottom line of letters?
Lara: Hahahaha
Eye Doctor: What about the next line up?
Lara: Above the dotted line?
Eye Doctor: Those are letters, not a dotted line.
Lara: Oh. Well, no then, I guess I can’t read them.
Eye Doctor: That’s okay, just go one more line up. Can you see those?
Lara: Uhhh…
Eye Doctor: How about the fourth line?
Lara: There’s a K…or wait, it’s a P, maybe…then, ummm…uhhhh…Q?
Eye Doctor: Read me the first line you can see.
Lara: N, D, L, R, S, O
Eye Doctor: That’s the top line.
Lara: Well, will you look at that. It sure is!
Eye Doctor: Now let’s cover up your right eye and try again. What letters can you see from the third line?
Lara: blink, blink
Eye Doctor: Let’s try line four.
Lara: Is that a 7?
Eye Doctor: There are no numbers on the chart.
Lara: So, it’s not a 7?
Eye Doctor: No, I’m afraid not. Just read the letters from the first line you can see.
Lara: N, D, L, R, S, O
Eye Doctor: First line again?
Lara: I have an excellent memory.
Eye Doctor: Okay, which lense is better, one or two?
Lara: One.
Eye Doctor: One or two?
Lara: Uhhhh…
Eye Doctor: One or two?
Lara: Neither?
Eye Doctor: Hmm, has your vision always been a little blurry even with a new prescription?
Lara: Well, duh. Isn’t that how it is for everyone?
Eye Doctor: Lara, I’d like to dilate the hell out of your eyes for the next 45 minutes with eye drops that feel a lot like acid and will leave you with pupils the size of a spaceship and a highly noticeable wandering lazy eye, so you’ll look a bit like a drunken cat. The dilation won’t wear off for about two hours. In the meanwhile you’ll be farsighted instead of nearsighted for the first time in your life and extremely sensitive to sunlight. We’ll ask you to take out your contacts, fill out paperwork blind, and then try to drive home like this. Remember, you’re farsighted now. Oh, and we’ll charge you $34 for this experience and don’t worry, your insurance doesn’t cover this. Is that okay?
Lara: You had me at drunk cat! Do I really get to wear those amazing roll-up sunglasses and try drive home blind with an empty wallet? Sign me up!
Okay, so it didn’t go exactly like that, but there’s the gist of it. My 30-minute appointment turned into 2.5 hours but I walked away extremely pleased with my vision, the helpfulness and expertise of the doctors who work there, and the Wing EyeCare location I had chosen, despite the obvious humiliation I am subject to every time I make a fool out of myself during the exam. I was treated to the most thorough eye examination in existence with multiple futuristic-looking machines that test and scan for literally everything. I was given a perfect bill of eye health and was fitted with the best contact lenses I have ever worn that immediately gave me noticeably sharper vision (despite my astigmatism) and 20/25 vision for, probably, the very first time in my life! With the help of my sweet personal shopping guru/lense specialist I picked out some rockin’ new glasses that actually fit my face correctly, have an updated lense prescription, and are really beyond adorable. And they even corrected the frame fit of my current glasses and gave me a new glasses case, likely because they felt bad for me because A) I stayed there for 2.5 hours B) I have God awful vision and it is outright embarrassing, C) my eyeglasses case is from 1993 and was obviously falling apart, and D) the huge pupils and major lazy eye is a highly unattractive look. Regardless, I’m thrilled with the outcome. I can see and I’m totally happy with my new contacts and pick of great new frames!
Please tell me I’m not the only one who has simultaneously frightful and comical eye appointments on a frequent basis.
This morning I awoke early and dressed in my rarely-worn business finery (read: not denim, shorts, or dance pants) to attend the final of four arts workshops intended for small budding arts organizations in Cincinnati who are in the critical early stages of growth looking to improve their board development, strategic planning, grant writing, development and fundraising, and marketing skills. I’ve learned so much attending these workshops and I have truly enjoyed the opportunity to meet and network with professionals from other amazing arts organizations in our vibrant community (there are so many unique and worthy ones!!) and to increase my skillset when it comes to arts administration in the non-profit sector. Thus far I’ve dwelled predominately in the artistic realm of the arts (performing, directing, teaching, constructing, etc.) so it’s very interesting to receive more detailed training in the administrative side of the arts. The delicious breakfast pastries and attractive view of downtown Cincy from a sleekly decorated and plush corner office conference room weren’t all that bad either. ;-)
After the session I decided to take a little detour to the luxe Kenwood Towne Center mall. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, but rather had a short list of “generals” I’ve been browsing the market for good deals on. I had a rare few hours at my disposal and since this mall is immense and the heat outside even more so, I thought this might be a nice way to work in some daily exercise without the unbearable hazards of excessive heat warnings. Then I found the Godiva Chocolatier store and polished off two rich truffles in the blink of an eye. So much for my exercise. But I have no regrets because they were a totally delectable lunch. I browsed the Anthropologie, Apple store, Williams Sonoma, and Gap before arriving at the Sephora. I was helped pestered incessantly by a saleslady who had more makeup on her face than my face sees in an entire month. It was outright horrifying. She chose to highlight every single one of her features with a generous helping of, well, everything while I tend to stick to the “less is more” motto when it comes to my beauty routine. I inquired about a particular product I was searching for. She informed me that they no longer stock that item in store, then proceeded to recommend a different product to me. The only thought crossing my mind at this point was “why on earth would I take a makeup product recommendation from someone who looks like you do?” It’s a shameful thought, but let’s be honest, more often than not I am utterly terrified by the look of makeup sales associates. These are people who are supposed to be helping you mindfully select the right products for your face but they look like complete clowns themselves. It’s not very reassuring and I certainly feel awkward entrusting my outward appearance to someone who looks like they just stepped off the stage of a Broadway house. After pondering this for a moment, I decided that I didn’t really need the product I was on the hunt for. The experience was thoroughly convincing to me that less is more. This theory does not apply to the Godiva staff. They can force more upon me any day of the week.
This afternoon I walked through some pretty ritzy and impressive stores that carry a variety of nifty products from computers and household goods to clothing and accessories, most of which I cannot afford…ever. Usually, this disappoints me. I often feel depressed strolling through a high-end mall full of goodies that I like and that I assume would make me happy, but that I will never have. I cannot spend $116 on a skirt or $32 on a headband. But this time I enjoyed simply browsing without feeling bad about the things I like but will never own. The sales, the offers, the advertising, the endless display of electronics and beautiful clothing said only one thing to me – I don’t need all this stuff to be happy. I already have everything I need and more. Would it be nice to have it? Sure. But am I still happy without it? Absolutely yes. My husband loves me in jeans, a plain t-shirt, and a pair of sneakers with not a trace of makeup on my face. We have all the dishes and kitchen appliances we need. My computer is on its last legs, but I need merely an adequate replacement so I can do my work when the time comes. Fancy new clothing, a special cupcake pan, or a top of the line gadget isn’t going to make me any happier because our life is already beautiful as it is. We have a home, we have jobs, we have loving friends and family, and we have each other. And that’s enough. It always was enough and always will be enough. I left the mall well exercised, hopped up on a small sampling of chocolate, completely empty-handed, and totally happy.
I can feel the money draining from my bank account every time I merely go looking for an umbrella, rain jacket, or water-resistant footwear. I think living in Ohio where we get a ton of rain and honeymooning in a traditionally wet location warrants the purchase of some rain gear, so I’ve been doing some browsing. I mean, it’s not like I won’t use it, but does a rain jacket really need to cost $99? Tack on $20 for a respectable umbrella that won’t collapse instantly and another $40 for waterproof shoes that won’t send you to work with wet, smelly feet or leave you sliding down the pavement and you’re already up to nearly half a paycheck. I don’t need expensive top of the line gear, just basic, non-hideous, functioning stuff. The search is both disheartening and ridiculous.
{Fruit}
Cherries, green grapes and rhubarb especially. I’m continually amazed at how I can go to the store and come out with $7.70 worth of cherries! And that was only the small/medium sized bag! Rhubarb is $2.99/lb. and green grapes are right up there with cherries. Laaaaame.
{Airfare}
Okay, apparently totally gone are the days of booking a last minute weekday flight for next to nothing because they want to fill the seats. Gone also are the not too long ago days of the $89 each way flights I used to frequently book at all times of the year. Big bummer.
Just thought I’d take the opportunity to share my recent shopping woes.
I’m thrilled to report that I have finally broken a score of 100 in bowling.
I know!
This is a truly wondrous accomplishment! Ted is a champ bowler who regularly breaks 200+ scores and finishes games with rows of consecutive strikes and spares. He not only has his own stylin’ bowling shoes, custom fit ball, and towel to wipe the oil off the ball between frames, but also a pack of that white powdery stuff to help the ball slide off his fingers (I’m using my best technical terminology here). Essentially, bowling paid for his undergrad schooling. Count me impressed. I, on the other hand, am an excellent Wii bowler.
While I love bowling, I usually select the most neon 8 lb. ball I can manage to locate, and hobble by with a hodgepodge of gutter balls, 3 pins down, 7 pins down, a spare here and there and maybe, if I’m lucky, a lone strike. Well, on Friday night not only did I break 100 (135!) but I also finagled my way through over half a dozen strikes and by the sheer dumb luck of getting a strike when the colored pin was in the head position, I even won a free game of bowling on my next visit! You better believe I was all kinds of stoked. Ted was happy because the lanes were real wood instead of synthetic, and I was thrilled to have finally figured out my advance, swing and release to a degree that my game is actually pretty good. It helps that Groupon, LivingSocial, and the mail coupons have been running some good deals on bowling lately. And it would be awesome if Ted could find the time to join a league again this fall. Just for kicks I’d love to join a league too – the weenie’s league for female bowling armatures, more specifically.
We also took my engagement and wedding rings in to be re-dipped and polished so they’ll be in top shape for our honeymoon. White gold tends to yellow a bit over time, but when you warranty your jewelry they can be re-dipped, inspected and cleaned as often as needed. I love it when I get to do this because they come back looking phenomenal. The sparkle is utterly blinding and I love it. What I don’t like about this process is that it takes about two weeks, meaning I’m ringless. It’s nothing to complain about, but it definitely feels like something’s missing. I’ll be happy to have them back, just like new!
Last night we hit up the Drive-In theatre in Amelia again, this time for a showing of ‘Zookeeper.’ Funny movie, lovely drive-in experience. Sometimes I really feel nostalgic for a time that I’ve never even lived in. Summer just cries out for cheeseburgers, milkshakes, and a movie at the drive-in, evening’s spent bowling, days at the park swimming or roller blading or bike riding, and nights cooking out and drinking cocktails on the porch. I figure we should stock up on all the fun stuff now before fall hits and we’re slammed with bustling work schedules, a move, and God knows what else. This summer has just flown by too fast. Ted’s going to be at a lighting conference next week. I’m really excited he has the opportunity to continue going to these kind of things and I know he’ll have a great time. I, in the meanwhile, will be taking advantage of the opportunity in his absence to attack the piles of work I’ve been meaning to do all summer long. If you’d like, you are more than welcome to hop a plane and come visit :-)
