I guess I can just keep reminding myself that our life is never boring, right?
So this weekend we just tried to stay busy. It's weird, but memorial day is just one of those days-it reminds me so much of my father-in-law, and I just can't help but thinking as it comes closer and closer to summer that this was supposed to be the summer that our whole lives changed. When we had our two precious little babies with us.
Instead, I spent the weekend putting the baby furniture on Craigslist and hoping someone will buy it so we can get it out of the house without me giving it away, since it is absolutely brand new and we'll have lost about a thousand bucks on it.
Then yesterday, we had such a weird, amusing experience. My mom has a trailer for the weekends/summers in a small town near here-and listen, I grew up in a small town, but this is a SMALL town. This is awful, but Brian and I always joke that when we cross the county line, our IQ goes down and teenagers are suddenly pregnant (not so funny anymore). One of our favorite things to do in this town is called, appropriately, the "corn and tater" fest. Notice the use of the word "tater." I should scan it in to give you the full effect some time, but you can purchase a polaroid picture in front of a giant fake ear of corn and baked potato. It's awesome. They also have the ever famous "chicken drop game." Yep, it's just what you think it is. There's a round wooden thing sectioned off and each section has a number. You buy a chance and a number, then they plop the clucking chicken right now and wait 'til WHAT the chicken takes a little dump. Your number wins, and you win the pot.
Well, anyway, we got a little taste of small town again, this time with someone called a "meat raffle."
Yes, I know.
A meat raffle.
*middle of nowhere smoky bar
*lots and lots of really drunk people
*random slabs of meat
*an entire sunday afternoon
I'll let you picture the rest, I'm not sure my description will do it justice. Today we tried to re-stain the deck, only we couldn't get the old stain off, which is a huge problem and made us cranky. So instead, we went for a drive to show Brian's mom the house we want to buy, and Louis dropped a toy into the stow-and-go part of the van, therefore ripping a toenail off, and decided to gush blood all over the place-including me.
So we called the bet, who called back and I'm sure he had had plenty to drink and was clearly at a party, and he said to put his paw in flour (?) and wrap it up with a sock and some masking tape.
A photo for your enjoyment.