Things I've Learned From Tonight's Episode of the Bachelorette:

1. Never trust a man in a tank top.
Especially if said tank top reveals too much chest hair.

2. Stop watching The Bachelorette.


And I think that says it all.

These Sharks Are Packin’

I am mildly obsessed with the Discovery Channel’s Shark Week.

I thought I should just get that confession out of the way first thing.  Maybe my obsession is caused by the fact that Shark Week only comes around once a year, so I have 51 weeks to look forward to the next one.  This leaves a lot of time to think about all the shark-related material I am missing out on.  It may also be caused by the fact that, when we were kids, my brother and I would rent the National Geographic’s Shark special video from the library for weeks on end.  So, I’ve had the interest for quite some time now.

The most likely theory, however, stems from the time I went into the Gulf of Mexico with my snorkel gear on and I saw a massive crab next to my foot.  Not quite the same as a great white, but I have been afraid of the “deep blue” ever since.

My personal favorite Shark Week moment is a little show called Air Jaws.  You probably shouldn’t click on this if you have some sort of deep spiritual connection with seals.

I only mention Shark Week because I recently saw a commercial for it and then I remembered last year’s shark week.  I was watching with my BFF Chels (and it was one of the show’s where a human decides to jump into the shark cage to gain some sort of understanding about the hammer-head’s hunting habits) and we were very upset because it looked as though the shark was going to outsmart the cage and unlatch it somehow. 

In her horror Chelsea yelled out “Why don’t they make these shark cages bullet-proof or something?!?”

Obviously she felt (and I agree) that, although you never want to be stuck underwater with a shark, you DEFINITELY don’t want to be found unprotected with a shark packin’ some heat.

May The Fort Be With You

In college I once lived in an apartment with some of my best friends.  It was a really special time.  Yes, we were inseparable.  And yes.  Sometimes that led to an almost freakish knowledge of the ins-and-outs of each others’ lives.  But I digress….

Anyway, when it came time to graduate we all felt the need to truly celebrate.  Not just your run-of-the-mill celebration.  I’m talking full out.  I’m talking supreme celebration.

That’s right, I’m talking about a fort.

This is Alison (bottom) and Sarah (top).

We called it ‘The Fort To Be Reckoned With’ and it was, by all accounts, the most awesomest fort ever built.  Why we felt the need to assert our newfound adulthood with a past time that is more commonly associated with four-year-old boys is beyond me.  But it sounded great at the time.  And it was great.

That picture doesn’t really do us justice.  If I were more technotronic (thank you Big Brother) than I would upload a blueprint of the layout, but alas… they will let just about anyone have a blog these days.  Even if you only know how to turn your computer on.  Anyway, we brought the beds from the back of our apartment into our living room and hung sheets from the walls.  This meant that when you walked into our door you could go no further than the living room unless you were willing to crawl under Alison’s bed to make it to the kitchen or bedrooms.

We even made up a password and hand gesture that people would have to do if they wanted to come inside (and yes, it was a beating to everyone who wasn’t us)…. (and no, I can’t tell you the password because then I’d have to kill you).

Here is Daniel, earning entrance into the fort.

If you know Daniel (my bff Katy’s hubby) than you know he is- not unlike our fort, a force to be reckoned with.  He’s a Marine, and could probably kill me if I looked at him funny.  So, I don’t think he’s always been thrilled to partake in our silly games (i.e. grown women building a fort in their living room), but he agreed to do this, plus he let us take a picture of him doing it, which makes me unbelievably happy.

Anyway, this just so happened to be the day that I was supposed to have my computer fixed.  The company had called me and told me that the man was planning on coming sometime between 3 and 5.  I made the appointment and promptly forgot it. 

We were all sitting around the fort when I got the call.  The repairman was in the parking lot and he would be in my apartment in about 5 minutes.  You can’t imagine what it felt like to have a group of people stare in bewilderment at you as you try to push a twin bed, covered in sheets hanging from the ceiling, across the room.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t get the darn thing to move at all.  Stupid Tae-Bo.

I’m guessing you have never been in this particular situation, but you might be able to imagine what it felt like as I told the repairman to “please follow me through the fort” and “I hope you don’t mind getting onto your knees and crawling under this bed with your repair kit”. 

And, since I’m hoping this won’t ever happen to you, you’re going to just have to take my word for it- it was embarrassing. 

As I led the repairman under the bed I almost thought I heard something.  I’m pretty sure it was ‘Adulthood’.  And I’m pretty sure it whispered in my ear: “Welcome to the world.  Sucker.”

Complications

This summer I am spending a lot of time with a couple of six-year-olds.  I’ve been baby-sitting almost every day.  When I am not trying to pull my hair out in frustration I am usually laughing pretty hard at the crazy things they say and do. 

For the most part we get along really well, however, the little boy really likes to push the rules to the breaking point and because of that he often gets in trouble.  A lot. 

So the other day we were playing, and even though this day was really no different than any other, he began to feel persecuted by me.  So he picked up the phone and called his mom.  When she picked up this is what he said:

“Mom.  Ms. Crystal is being SO MEAN to me.  She is being so mean and I just can’t stand it.”

He put me on the phone, ready for me to get into trouble for being mean, and I explained that I was having some trouble with obedience on that day.  She said she understood and would be home soon.

Omar got back on the phone with his mom and they had a conversation.  I’m pretty sure she was telling him that he needed to try and be good when he responded with this:

“You just don’t understand Mom.  Things are just so complicated with her.  You just don’t get it…. she’s just too complicated.”

I wanted to laugh out loud, but I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have taken kindly to that. 

I can honestly tell you that I had no idea I was so complicated.  All these years, I’ve been thinking that it was men, but obviously it’s me.  And all it took was one small six-year-old to show me the light.

Let the Romance Begin!

Today I had to run by the library at my school to get some resources for a project.  As I was walking in I noticed a man standing next to the entrance talking on his phone with an accent, which I appreciated because apparently everyone else is just talking on their phone in the library these days.  After I went in I had to do some research before I got my books, so I stopped by the computers first.  While I was sitting there the man from outside walked up and sat at the computer next to me, so I smiled at him, finished my work and went in search for my books.

As I was checking out my books the man with the accented voice came up behind me and said:  “I thought you’d already left.”

I was a little surprised because he was talking to me as if we had carried on a conversation before and I barely recognized him, but I told him that I was on my way out, to which he responded: “Well, I wanted to have a chat with you before you leave.”

Now, I wasn’t standing in front of a mirror, but you can bet that I had a bewildered expression on my face as I answered: “Ok.  What’s up?”  The man said I could finish checking out and that he would just wait outside for me to have our chat.

When the little girl checking out my books came back I wanted, with all my heart, to tell her that if I was reported missing to please let my parents know that I love them (Don’t you love how quickly I took that to the worst possible scenario??).  But I didn’t do that.  Instead, I begrudgingly walked outside to meet him.

Let’s just pause here for my to describe this fellow.  If I had to guess he was probably about 35+, of African descent with an accent and he was a little short.  Because if a man wants to talk to me, you can bet good money he isn’t gonna be a Justin Timberlake stand-in.  (I’m just kidding, looks aren’t as important to me as a man who understands the boundaries of commonly-accepted social behavior.)

Pretty much this gentleman, whose name is George, had a feeling that he was supposed to come talk to me.  After he found out that I went to DBU he said that “God told me to come chat with you.”

George was very inquisitive, he asked me where I lived, where I did my undergrad, what I was studying, if I lived with my parents, if I was a native Texan, and if I had ever had to take a New Testament class, among other things.  I learned a few things about George too.  He is originally from Cameroon, but grew up in Germany.  He just moved to Texas from Mary-land (his pronunciation) and lives near Denton.

Finally George said “I would love for us to meet again sometime.”  Too which, I thought, we’ve barely met the first time…

And then George asked for my phone number.  I was very flustered but then he said “or I can give you mine, or we can both trade numbers”.  And I had found my out. 

I quickly lied through my teeth and told George that I was having phone troubles.  I think I said something along the lines of “due to billing issues” (Clearly, I’m gifted with the tall-tale).  And got George’s number.

He said he was very concerned that I would forget to call him and he would really love to meet with me again and if I would let him then he would like to pick me up.  He said over and over again “Please don’t forget.”

Oh, George, how I wish I COULD forget.

Because I Got Nothin’ Else…

Well, I figured it was time to enter my bi-monthly post.  I’ve been falling down on the job lately, as a blogger, and I’d like to apologize to the one of your who occasionally happens to read my blog.  You deserve better and I’m going to try and give it to you…

 

So, since nothing celebrates your Freedom more than a little craft project, I thought I’d show you something that I have been working on lately. 

I purchased this frame on sale a few months ago at Garden Ridge.  I love unusual frames and thought the circular shape and the carvings around the edges were great!  I inserted a piece of scrapbook paper I got from Hobby Lobby and I thought it was wonderful, but the frame was a little too dark, and a lot of the cool details were fading into the background.

So, I made a massive mistake.  I decided to paint it, since that is my solution to everything.  I thought it would really compliment the paper in the middle if it was a beautiful pale pink.  Unfortunately, pale pink, quickly turned into nightmarish pepto pink with, what was supposed to be a metallic accent color.

Obviously, it couldn’t stay like this, so… TA DA!!

 

 

Much improved.

 

P.S. I want to send a special shout-out to those who serve to protect our freedoms.  Especially my favorite Marine family: Daniel and Katy.  Thanks for all the sacrifices you guys make.  I love you both.