4 years, baby!

Ah, yeaahhh. 4 years. Can't believe it.

I think I'll make R watch So You Think You Can Dance tonight. That's right. 4 years, baby.

I neglected to mention in last year's post that about month before we were to be married, the roof of our chapel was blown off from a tornado.

Midwest, ugh.

I was sad, R sent me flowers at work (the first time ever -- and can I say... so appreciated. No Hallmark law stating he should, just him knowing I was upset and sending an uplifting flower with a sweet note in my time of need. Loved it.),  and I started searching for a new venue. A church down the street offered to take the displaced couples and we had no choice.

But we still went to a service to see who we'd be working with.

They were pretty cool, for being children of the fricken corn.  As soon as the service was over, they turned with arms outstretched and moaning as if half-dead.

Looking back, who doesn't want to get married in a Thriller video?

So we said yes, and that was that. Oh, if I had to do it over. We'd be in a field, me in a white cotton dress picking wildflowers down the aisle for my bouquet.

Oh well, maybe for our fifth. Right now, enjoy photos from my 3 yr anniversary right here.

While you do that, we will go out to eat with possibly a golf game included. Ta Ta!

Dancing Wedding

Dancing Weddiiiiing - Young and Sweet only seventeeeen. You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your li-i-ife.

Wow, this was a fun one. I've been to some where I stay for the meal and slip out the door; others where I sit at the table all night talking with friends without even so much as a glance to the dance floor; and still others where I play whiffle ball and serve guests bbq from a gas station.

Okay that last one  was my own wedding. Yikes.

But this one. This one will be the dancing wedding.

We all knew K & D loved to dance, for them to see this all night:



It must've just made their day.

It made mine too, because I'm re-entering the world of dancing without caring.

R thinks he's been duped. You see, in college our circle of friends would go to a place with a dinky dance floor. And while everyone else was bumping to the music, R and I would stand flat against a wall getting to know each other all the while avoiding drinks getting sloshed into our face by someone's bad dance move. It was fun. Kind of like dodgeball meets dating. So, he thought I didn't like to dance, which meant that there was no pressure on his end. And there wasn't. Truly!

Until recently. If there is a packed floor and good music on, then I'm psyching myself up to get out there if I'm in the mood.

And I don't care if I dance a little Elaine Benes-esque with my one-handed train conductor move, because if you can't hear... Journey's playing and it's time to move.



So when R went MIA after seeing a good dance crowd, I turned around to find my good ole standby. Mom.



Whaaaaat? What is she doing all. by. herSELF?

Something drastic needed to be done.



So I ran to the DJ and requested Backstreet Boys, stat. HURRY. This is an emergency, my mom is sitting all by herself because she's not really into House of Pain.

He gave me a sidelong glance and hesitated in the B section. "Are you sure it will go over well with this crowd?" I didn't care, we had to pump some dancing blood back into Momma Pat and this was the ticket.

As the song started, I ran away from him so no one would know who requested the song. No offense, mom. But could you believe that people gave a loud whoop and clapped?

I grabbed mom and drug her out with me.



She was only a little excited.

By the way, nice bra, Carolyn. Jeez. I'm the classy cousin at the wedding with my unmentionables hanging out in every photo. Sigh.



We slow danced... Still couldn't seem to find R, so had to make-do with taking photos of my sister and her husband.

And then there were dance-offs:

My nephew, W, partook in one and apparently won?



But grandma was cheering a bit too hard for little W, because the dance-off moved onto her:



And she was booty-ed off the dance floor. No one is safe during a dance off, my friends.



But not to be outdone, my brother-in-law (aka "roommate") had one out with a groomsmen.

I don't think anyone can compete with suspenders. Sorry N.



Oh, K & D. What a great wedding! I don't know who this girl is nor why I took the photo, but I think it had to do with the drawing. Does it seem familiar to this old blog post? Click here.

Discuss.

And Dance. Discuss and dance. That's pretty much how life goes anyway.

Do you think he'll remember this?

or this?



I hope so. My cousin's wedding was a blast. It was the first time I danced all night without needing to be three sheets to the wind. Quite freeing.

It helped that the dance floor was absolutely packed, though. Most times it's just kids out there, but not this crowd. They were ready to dance. And so was I.

J and T's 30th Birthday Party

I don't know where the nickname Juice came from, nor did I invent it for her. But I was introduced to her in college with that name and it's still stuck in my head. She and I ran around in the same group our last year at KSU and she was also living with a group of R's friends. The first night I met her, I stayed up all night dancing watching people from the wallflower section of the dancefloor. The next morning I woke up next to people I only vaguely knew and she immediately made plans with me to eat breakfast where R was waiting tables.

Just like that. She's just a tad friendly.

But little did I know how creative she was until we slowly became better friends.

She's quirky and in my world, quirky = cool.

You know, people who aren't concerned with what others think of them. I'm still trying to get there, but I have come long strides since my early 20s. This blog has helped.



So, she and her husband T (who both also did the Adventure Race with us back in November - click link here), both turned 30 recently and wanted to celebrate. They invited their friends and paid their way for a night of 80s Roller Rink Fun-o-rama.

And we made it just in time for the Limbo. whew!



Each of us took our turns getting reaccustomed to roller skating. I don't think any of us had skated within the past 10 years, so the whole "balance" thing was a foreign idea.

Well, except for Juice.

She's been practicing to join the local Roller Derby Team.

Anyway, some of us pushed off the wall and hoped to slow down at the Limbo line.



While others had to be helped by an outstretched hand. Eventually we all made it. It took an hour.

Now, this first experience on wheels really tested you. The length from the line to the actual limbo pole is, oh, about 20 miles. No, seriously.

I wanted to cry, it was so scary.

It was like your first jump off the high-dive. Once you started, there was no turning back.



So instead of actually skating, I did one little push and then bent over. I don't think my head even cleared it.

The failure was promptly blamed on my high ponytail.



Then it was R's turn.

Oh, R.

He started off with feet parallel to each other and then somehow one foot started to split off and he couldn't pull them back together. So the only option was to go with it.

Hopefully he can still sire children after that. It was painful to watch.



After our first run on the rink we were already sore.

R and N stretched it out for a bit....



While I chomped on Pop Rocks, provided by the hostess, and watched the show on the rink.

Every two seconds you heard someone scream and then bones breaking.



Like these three. I hope the horizontal guy is okay.



R stayed near anyone with a helmet thinking he could just fall on them and avoid the cement. Good thing this guy had one too. Man, he wiped out hard several times, causing the 'referee' (what are those guys called - bouncer? chaperone?) to blow his whistle and check on him.

It was awesome.



Others just breezed on by without a care in the world. Juice called ahead to ask if she could wear those fast special skates. They said yes.

What a show off.

We were jealous of her skills.



But I bet you're jealous of my mad braking skills. That's right ya'all. I could eat your brake for brakefest.

...and with that pun I bid you good night.



Later on, we skated the birthday girl into the bathroom (appropriately decked out in daisies) for a birthday toast. There's something so liberating about having skates on while going pee. I'm not going to delve into that thought process, but I felt liberated.



We hung out for awhile until we were busted by the rink patrol. They were cool, thank goodness, and tsk-tsked us back to the rest of the group.

It was no use explaining to them that the bathroom break was necessary to..



do this.

Yikes. This should've been a recipe for disaster, but we both held on strong and whirled around. That was the thing I was most looking forward doing.... Spinning in the middle of the floor.

This had to be on of the most fun parties I've been to. We even broke out our Thriller dance when the song came on.

On SKATES, people.

And now I also want to take up skating as exercise... Forget running, people, skating will kill your thighs.

But it won't kill your fond childhood memories. It only enhances them.

We used to do the Hokey Pokey, the coin toss, races and a bunch of other things. But I bet you all have some memories of your own.

Share if you'd like, I'm all ears.

Catalina Island en route

Well, we ended up getting out of Arkansas last weekend. It made me kind of suspicious that the only flight not cancelled was ours. The tickets were extremely cheap... and so apparently were the people calling the "go ahead and give it a go" shots. I mean, almost every other flight was cancelled. Every. Other. Flight.

But did that stop us?

Hail no. (Literally)



Neither did our snow packed car stop us...



...or the almost zero visibility on the roads. If I had to stick my head out the window and get pneumonia, by golly we are getting to some sunshine! Keep driving R!



We finally dragged our soggy feet into the airport. I have a thing about packing light... trying to scale back what I take to the point that I'm on the verge of wearing the same thing everyday on a trip. Okay, it's not that bad, but I did refuse to wear a jacket because I didn't want to lug it around for five minutes walking to and from the airport.

I was a literal snowwoman (excuse the political correctness) when I finally stumbled through the doors. It was ugly. And wet.



When my eyelids eventually unfroze themselves, we saw our friends T and R, and immediately gut laughed.

It's not unusual to run into people we know as we come from a small town, but this was getting ridiculous. They were waiting for their friends to return from China with their newly adopted baby.

Recently we ran into T&R at a local pizza place too. They were there for a birthday party, and were early, so we sat with them until our pizza was ready to go.

A birthday party... no big deal right? Right. Except for when the pizzeria has literally two tables inside and both were being used for the said party goers that hadn't showed up yet. When they did, T&R were put in an awkward situation of introducing us to everyone as if we had come along. And of course, R ordered the most labor intensive pizza in all of Italy, so we waited forever to make our graceful exit. By this time everyone was wondering who this chick was with no makeup on and why she was standing in line for the pinata.

So we show up at the airport and who is having the welcome home party? Oh, just the same people from the pizzeria.

Lovely.



What luck to join them for again! I thought I might as well take photos of them since we're basically a part of their lives now. T joked that R & I will be in the background of all their photos. And if we see the couple on the street, we'll bring up memories to them and they'll wonder why we know such intimate details.

Embarrassing. But it was nice to see them with their new baby. R & I have talked about adoption a lot and my idea of our future family is changing to include that option.

Until then, we'll continue to buy cheap tickets on scary icy flights.



But we landed! Oh yes we did and had a quick night's sleep before heading out to Catalina Island with my brother, his wife, and their friends.

We were backpacking for the night and it was part gorgeous, part LOST-like. If you don't watch the show you won't get the references, so you best start watching reruns, like, now. You won't regret it.

If you do watch the show, I probably really like you.

Stay tuned!

Feetsies

What is my obsession with feet in photos? There's no logical thought process since I don't even take care of them, so why should I photograph them?

But I do.

And now you have to suffer.

Some of these I've blogged about (and have linked back to those posts) and others I haven't, but wish I had.

Hot summer weekend trip in Iowa. Cool, sweet water.

Just prior to having a semi-heart attack on the Brew to Brew: 50 mile relay race from Boulevard Brewery in KC to FreeState brewery in Lawrence. The worst part was knowing that after your team drove past cheering you on, they immediately rolled up the window to say how sorry you looked. I know this, because we did it to every other person on our team. But I'm sure they didn't do it to me. Right. RIGHT?

Hiking the Grand Canyon. What a glorious day, despite R almost dying.

Garage sale shopping with my mom. This was a terrifying flash forward of our lives when she literally parked in someone's front lawn. Not on purpose.

What you don't see above these feet is a girl dry heaving on Little Corn Island, Nicaragua. Apparently I don't like heights?

After wearing heels for too long, asking R if I could borrow his shoes for a few minutes. No I wasn't wearing socks either.

[collective groan / shrieks of horror]

Dancing the Thriller...in sneakers. If I saw a zombie coming towards me in white tennies, I'd either poke him in the eyes (and hope he doesn't block me with the finger shark fin) or run my butt off. He might've died running, you know.

Do you see the steep stairs in this Irish castle ruin? And the rain water? You do the math.

Visiting our cousins in the Sunshine State. This is also a good reminder: Kids, always remember to put sunblock on your feet. Do not, I repeat, do not stop at your ankles.

Costume / Dance Parties. Oh, penny loafers.

Camping / Hiking - and facing my fear of the granddaddy spider of 2001.

And last but certainly not least... running through fields. I was apparently really excited to get to something.... probably food.

As I was looking around, I found even more feetsies photos. Oh yes, there will be a part two. Who sighed? I heard that.

The Life of a White Elephant Gift

I'm ba-ack. Never did I think I'd miss my cozy dorm room, but it feels nice to be back into its space-confining arms. After more than a week in Kansas, we arrived home last night and are implementing many things for our 2010 selves. Until then, I'll continue to eat my weight in chocolate.

An item that did not come home with us this year was R's white elephant gift. Actually, neither did mine;  of the $20 worth of lottery tickets, only one was a winner (a free ticket). And even that gained us nothing.


But what those tickets didn't give us in money, the 3D pear fruit plate gave us in fun.

Here it is, in all it's glory. Primed to be hung on any proud ceramic fruit displayer's wall. We were in disbelief when no one tried to steal this from us.

So R tried to give it away as part of his secret santa gift.

R drew our brother-in-law's name for our annual secret santa amongst the siblings. This year we decided to do a $5 limit. Does anything cost 5 bucks anymore? It was hard, but we at least we were all on a level playing field.

At least I thought we were. I opened up my gift from my brother & his wife and oh, just a "five dollar" COACH purse.  Uh.. hope you guys enjoy the homemade laundry detergent. Pretty fair trade, I'd say.

R was clever with his money, though. He knew that Joe (he has allowed me to use his full name) loved his Boulevards. But when R noticed the price was $6.98, he calculated how much he'd have to drink before giving him the present. A few chugs and a couple of leftover backwashes later, we were in business.

As an extra touch of thoughtfulness, R added his lovely pear plate (free of charge) to his secret santa gift.

Joe was thrilled.

A few days later, we found the pear plate hiding in a cupboard.

"Oh, Hail No", my mom said. "This is not staying in our house."

So she suggested I wrap up the plate and give it to R during his family's christmas morning.

And being the dutiful daughter, I did.

R was not as thrilled as Joe. That is, until his father and brother went out to shoot blue rock in their backyard. And this is where the plate's lovely life took a sad, sad turn. 

Please cover your eyes as there are shocking images ahead.

Not a direct hit, but fatal nonetheless. We will miss you, oh gawdy ceramic pear plate. May you go into white elephant gift heaven.