... i had spaghettios for breakfast this morning. i couldn’t finish the last 3 meatballs, and i put my bowl on the floor until i get up and make it to the kitchen…

the little brat, who hearts beef just like her mommy, thinks i put the meatballs down there for her; she’s wolfing them down. i wonder if i should tell her that they’re really more of a beef “product”.

silly Minerva.

unless you mean ogre owners and sexy tough guys want your biggest fan to implode or worse—collapse into a whiny pool of tears—get yer stuff settled, and forget about the lockout! owners, no no on the salary cap! we know that teams w/ higher payrolls don’t necessarily get the job done (see: Stars 02-03 and 03-04, and who did Jagr go to for $10MM? the Caps? anyway, see that team, too.), and if you owners are all in agreement on this sal. cap thing, howzabout just agreeing to not pay players way more than they’re worth. problem solved, players happy, owners not being stupid, SarahK watching stick & puck action. and sexy tough guys in helmets.

for the record, if the season doesn’t start in early October, i might be unavailable for awhile. there will be a mental hospital with my name on it.

/over-the-top melodrama

UPDATE: fixed. a musee (too lazy to look & see who) pointed out that sports chick is dead and uninformed. i was only half-listening to Brian Kilmeade this morning. i would know more about the lockout already, except that i’ve been trying to ignore it in hopes that it would go away.

my crazy life just keeps getting crazier… or maybe i’m just coming back out of my shell and doing everything i always say i’ll do but am never brave enough for. which means i’m either getting braver or stupider; whatever it is, i’m having a blast… the latest wacky SarahK adventure was the American Idol audition. see, i knew i had to do it. after all my whining last year that 27 was too old for AI, they raised the age limit from 24 to 28; i knew i would never forgive myself if i passed on the opportunity. plus, i wouldn’t be able to gripe about the talent this season if i didn’t have the gralls to try myself. so two weeks before the Vegas auditions, i booked my flight and immediately felt completely ill… the next 2 weeks were long, but finally, it was time.

Friday night—SarahK goes to Vegas…

i drove to Albuquerque to catch a flight to Vegas ($200 cheaper than flying out of Amarillo, so after gas and parking, i saved about $130). midway through the flight, the flight attendant got on the loudspeaker and informed us that there was a girl on the plane (Marisa) who was going to audition for AI, and she was going to sing for us. after she sang, the flight attendant had discovered another auditioner, and she sang too; i had tried to get his attention so i could sing as well, and i was thrilled that i even half-heartedly tried to get up in front of a plane full of strangers. less than a month ago, Frank had to fight me tooth and nail to get me to sing for him alone, and i won’t even sing for my own Bikermommy if i know she’s listening. karaoke, of course, is different, because it’s much easier to sing in front of drunken strangers, as they think everyone sounds great and will likely never remember you, even if you’re terrible.

when we were leaving the plane, i noticed Marisa and two other girls talking about the auditions, so i joined the conversation and told them i was going too. that’s when i met Tamika. she, like me, was going to the audition alone, though she was meeting some friends there, and the Little Sizzle was going to fly out and meet me Saturday night. Marisa and her parents let us know that the auditions had been moved from the convention center to the Orleans Arena. good to know!

we all picked up our luggage and exchanged phone numbers, but Tamika couldn’t get ahold of her friends, so we decided to stick together. we got my rent car (a punchy little blue Ford Focus that i had a lot of fun driving) and decided to go to the arena to see what the scene was like. Tamika had been to the New Orleans auditions and told Marisa and me that the camping out happens on Friday night, and not Saturday night as the website had implied. when we got to the arena, security told us we wouldn’t be allowed to line up until 6 a.m. and could camp out in a parking lot across the street, but risked being ticketed by the metro police. i thought that was a good idea, because maybe there would be a crime, and Warrick Brown could come investigate, woohoo! anyway, Tamika and i decided to go to my hotel room and come back at 5 a.m. to line up.
—-

on the way to the hotel, we were driving across an overpass, and two fellas in the car next to us were honking their horn trying to get our attention. Tamika, whose mama apparently never taught her that if someone is honking at you, you must ignore ignore ignore, rolled down the window and asked what they wanted.
Tamika: what??
Random Guys: haaaaaaaayyyy!!! why don’t y’all come with us.
SarahK [frantically looking for the window controls]: roll that window back up right now!! where’s the child lock on this thing?
—-

when we got to the hotel room, i’d been offline for several hours and had broken out in withdrawal hives. Tamika asked what i was doing, and i told her i was blogging, then explained what that’s all about. it came up that i’m a Republican and model t-shirts for my Republican boyfriend’s Republican blog…

Tamika: so you’re a Republican, huh?
SarahK: yep.
Tamika: so how you really feel about color?
SarahK: well, let’s see. i met you on the airplane tonight and drove you around in my rent car. now we’re rooming together. yeah, i don’t like black people, obviously.
—-

we went out for burgers at midnight, and Tamika promptly determined that she hates Carl’s Jr. on the way back to the hotel, we stopped at a Terrible’s convenience store so i could get a non-fountain Coca-Cola. the attendant looked like he stepped right out of Colorado City, Utah Arizona. i tried being cute and making a lame joke about the fact that there were slot machines in the convenience store, and he gave me the humorless blank stare. Tamika had a question.

Tamika: do you blog?
Clerk: i used to. i had a LiveJournal but i never posted much.
Tamika: hey, someone else who knows what a blog is!!
SarahK: i’m a blogger.

we reached the parking lot.

SarahK: what was that about? why did you ask him if he blogs?
Tamika: he looked like a blogger.
SarahK: no you didn’t. you’re walking back to the hotel.
—-

another Saturday night…

i was still up blogging & reading blogs & reading email and such when Marisa called around 2:15 a.m. and said they were letting people line up now. i dragged Tamika out of bed, changed into jeans and my American Hottie shirt, and we were on our way.

we got to the arena around 3 a.m. and started the campout. it was hard to sleep, because there was so much going on. people coming and going, plus the line-Nazi lady who kept waking people up and making them get in other people’s laps because having 3 inches of space on either side of you was just not acceptable! the Bear Man (Chris) and his group were quite busy, as there were about 200 of them trying to all stay together. maybe only 20 or so, but it sure seemed like more. i think i slept about an hour between 4 and 5 a.m., and then the line-Nazi started yelling again. at 6, they finally started letting people in, so Tamika and i spent the next hour and twenty minutes waiting to get into the building.

Tamika: they better let us all in, or there will be a riot.
SarahK: a riot? well, um… i think i’ll just hang back, not participate in the riot.
Tamika: why not? you don’t wanna riot?
SarahK: it’s just that i’m not a fan of being punched and stuff.
—-

we met lots of interesting people while we waited.

by 7:20 we were inside. by about 7:45, we had our wristbands (which meant we got to audition for sure) and seat tickets and awaited further instructions from this little guy. meanwhile, we met Daryl and Chris (Bear Man).

then they made us sing Viva Las Vegas, and i realized i was in Hell. anyone who knows me knows i’d rather have someone smash my kneecaps in with a sledgehammer than listen to an Elvis song, much less sing it. blech. even Neckid Britney is more stomachable than Elvis. finally, we received our super important instructions for Sunday (be here between 4 and 6 a.m.), and they turned us loose for the day. we walked by all the losers still in line, and i laughed at them. then i called Frank and told him i got my wristband, and he was so proud.

Tamika finally got ahold of her friends Reggie and Val (they were losers still in line), so we took their luggage from them so they wouldn’t have to keep it in line. then we headed to the hotel. on the way…

Tamika: girl, you are so much like my girlfriend Tiffany. you look just like her, y’all are both blonde.
SarahK: yeah, we all look alike.
Tamika: y’all do.

i jumped online as soon as we were to the hotel, then i napped. Reggie and Val showed up at some point to get their luggage, but all i remember is that i was cranky and rude. “get out of my rooooooooooom!”

we finally got up from our naps and decided to eat. we went to the Rio for the buffet, but when we gagged on the price for the food, we changed our minds. we drove around for a long time…

SarahK: what shall we eat for dinner?
Tamika: i want Mexican food.
SarahK: oh no. you don’t want to get Mexican food in Vegas.
Tamika: why not in Vegas?
SarahK: they don’t even have Mexicans here! you don’t wanna eat Mexican food unless it’s made by real Mexicans. you have to go to Texas, there are lots of Mexicans there.
Tamika: Sarah, do you know where you are?
—-

we finally decided on Red Lobster, because when you go visit a new city, you shouldn’t bother trying their non-chain restaurants. always go with something you can get at home. Reggie and Val joined us, and we had a great time. after dinner, we stood outside the front doors of Red Lobster and practiced our music. we just sang different songs to each other and got opinions on which songs we should sing for our auditions on Sunday. ..

Reggie: what are you gonna do for your second song?
Val: yeah, that’s right, you have to have a second song ready in case they ask you to sing another.
SarahK: i know what i’ll sing.
Tamika: what’s that?
SarahK [stands up and dances as soulful as a white girl can without pulling a muscle]: when i get that feeling… i want… sexual healing… sexual… healing…

Reggie, Val and Tamika were rolling on the sidewalk laughing.

SarahK: what? when i was growing up, my very first favorite song was ”[Gr]exual Healing”. and then later, my favorite song was “Centerfold”. and even later, my favorite song was “I Want Your [Gr]ex”.

more rolling and laughing.

for the record, my current favorites are “After an Afternoon”, which may or may not be about grex, and “0% Interest”, which may or may not be about anything at all.

we finally called it a day and went to the hotel…

stay tuned tomorrow night for the rest of the AI auditions story…

yep, just teared up at a MARRIOT COMMERCIAL. seriously.

... to tell y’all how much i absolutely heart ANYthing cooked in olive oil and garlic. when i start cooking anything that calls for these ingredients, i’m sure my stomach is going to crawl its way out of my body so it can get to the fabulous aroma and ingest that garlicky goodness. i also heart any dish containing white wine. cannot. get. enough. of the flavor.

i’m taking a one-night spaghettio’s hiatus to make linguine w/ red clam sauce, and i’m giddy over the flavor combo. white wine, olive oil, garlic. all in one dish. oh the torture of the wait!!!!

y’all have been patient and stuff. i got 10 hours of sleep last night, so i’m all better… so if y’all can wait till this evening, i’ll have lots of AI audition stuff.

here’s a picture of my new friend Tamika and me to tide y’all over. this was right after we both got rejected. can you imagine rejecting 2 chicas that good-looking? if only we’d had a black man (see previous reference to my booty) producer instead of a blonde British chick.

i have 6 gmail invites, and reader Chris (i don’t remember if he has a blog, sorry Chris) has 4 to give out. email me if you want one, and if you’ve never commented here or at IMAO, tell me who you are, please. :)

and last time, there was one person who wanted one after i ran out… remind me, because i can’t find you in my gmail for some reason. remind me, and yer invitee #1.

ARGH!! i turned off comments!!

Laura (and anyone else who wants to know), gmail is google’s web-based email. it rocks.

UPDATE: wow, reader Matt apparently really really wants gmail. i got this email…

Hello the all mighty SarahK, and future heiress to the IMAO empire. I was wondering if you would be so kind to bestow upon me a gmail account. I’m a regular reader of both sites, and semi-infrequent poster under the name Degenx. Thanks for the quality reading material your site provides me. It’s a great excuse to to work when I’m at work. Hopre to read about
more future IMAO Team Building Events.

musees, i’m a fan of this kind of blatant kissing up.

i’m home now in Amarillo from the AI auditions. i’ll have a full story either later tonight or tomorrow evening. i’ve had a total of 12 hours sleep (including power naps) since Wednesday night; for you non-accountant-types, that is a nightly average of 3 hours.

so first work, then more sleep, then i write. here’s what you have to look forward to…

• i didn’t hear those beautiful words “welcome to Hollywood”, and i didn’t see my beloved Simon.


• crazy antics with my new friend Tamika. we met on the plane and roomed together all weekend. also look forward to reading about Tamika’s political education. :-) Go W!


• crazy lady and crazy lady’s daughter.
• 
  
• song selections.


• lots of pics of your muser! hooray!

SarahK… out!

VAL [who is black]: I don’t mean to offend, Sarah…
SARAHK [who is not]: Okay…
VAL: Girl, you stole my butt.

Hatless in Hattiesburg tells you how to identify whether you’re a blogger.

cute. :-)

i could only come up with more than one…

• every time your gut rumbles, you blame the Acidman.
• you go to office depot and look for Note-It Posts instead of Post-It Notes.
• you hand your spouse a tall glass of milk and tell him to Drink This…

UPDATE: Acidman himself has more at Gut Rumbles.

i took Michelle Malkin’s new book with me on my flight last night, thinking i would read during takeoff and landing while computer usage was prohibited…

before i had even fastened my seatbelt, the nice man next to me introduced himself and started chatting me up. his name was Hitoshi. we made small talk, and after telling him i’m from Texas, i asked him where he is from; he moved to the States from Japan 3 years ago.

i can’t put my finger on why, but i didn’t quite feel comfortable cracking my copy of “In Defense of Internment”. :)

many times since May 29, 2003, i have prayed to God for peace. i’m sure i prayed for it before that date, but that’s the day my life turned on its end, and i started over, so that’s the point in time i actually remember praying earnestly for the calm, the warmth, the love of peace.

now and then the plea for peace becomes part of my prayer… itinerary, for lack of a better word. it will become one of those things i always remember to pray for, that the Lord will grant me serenity and peace. i have thirsted for it daily and often felt incomplete because of its absence. then it will fade from my daily prayer, though i know i still miss it. maybe i subconsciously begin to allow myself to believe that peace will never join me, have a Coke with me, cradle me in its warm embrace. or maybe it’s reciprocity; peace has left me, so i leave peace too, try to forget it, as it has forgotten me. whatever the cause, it slips from my consciousness, and i move on without it.

i haven’t prayed for peace in a long time, but i always remember to pray for peace when i fly. always. and tonight i fly. the second i settled in my window seat, i thought about peace once again, and i asked God to grant me peace.

then i thought about what i was asking. do you ever do that? pray for something and think about what you’re asking afterward? pray on autopilot. i sat on my floatation device and reflected on my life; it was a quick reflection, as it only began fifteen months ago. i tried to think of what i miss in my life, because peace only eludes me when accompanied by something else.

what i realized at that moment, sitting next to a nice man named Hitoshi, was that i have changed. i found within myself a change so drastic that it stole the wind from my lungs and replaced it with awe, amazement and light. light! and i’m sure the light manifested in me before 8:20 p.m. September 10, 2004… but this was our first head-on meeting.

i halted my prayer for my own peace at that moment, as my plane began to pick up speed in anticipation of takeoff. because i realized i have it.

I
AM
AT
PEACE.

what a blessing, a golden gift that can only come from God.

tonight i prayed a new prayer. i thanked God for peace. THANKED God for peace. then i might have cried a little. :) i cannot put into words how soothing that prayer was. more soothing than any prayer i’d ever prayed, and i’ve prayed a lot.

i pray y’all find peace, too, musees. and if you already have it, i praise God for that. God bless.

after the whole CBS debacle (too lazy to find you a link, but look anywhere, they’re aplenty!), Frank has done some investigating, and he has hit the forgery jackpot!

day 1—Frank stood me up
day 2—Frank snores
day 3—Frank and Sarah in the Canyon

i awoke to Frank’s screams Sunday morning.

SARAHK [fumbling w/ tent zipper]: what? what’s the matter? are you bitten? rattlesnake? mountain lion? i knew i smelled cat pee. Frank, talk to me!!
FRANK: moved… too… quickly… legs… pain… can’t… ouch…
SARAHK: oh that. yeah, i probably should have mentioned that. it’s a good idea to move slowly when you first get up after hiking 10 miles down steep rugged terrain.
FRANK: hurt… hate… t-shirt babe…
SARAHK: hey, ya live ya learn. at least now you know for next time.
FRANK: never… next time… you’re… fired…

when i got back from the bathroom composting toilets that blow cool air straight up at you just to freak you out, he was still in his tent.

SARAHK: heya, Boss, we need to get moving. what are you doing anyway?
FRANK: changing clothes.
SARAHK: so you’re like… neckid?
FRANK: no, i’m in my underwear.

i just happened to trip (hey, it’s well-established that i’m a klutz) right in front of his tent opening; wasn’t my fault he had already opened the flap. since i was already looking, i verified that he’s not a sissy briefs-wearer… and then i woke up for real. :(

Camp IMAO was slow-moving Sunday morning, what with all our whining slowing us down, not to mention our muscles refusing to move and our calves having a pity party together. we changed clothes and brushed our teeth, and after my healthy breakfast of tuna fish, Jolly Ranchers and Gatorade and Frank’s healthy breakfast of beef jerky and Gatorade, we packed up camp. here we are about to leave camp. don’t we look happy? but here we are after we realized that at the top of the canyon is a nice restaurant with steak and pork tenderloin. much somewhat happier. before we ever started hiking, Frank said, “you know, it sure is going to be cold on the Rim tonight. we should cuddle for warmth.”

our first 1.5 miles back to the pumphouse engineer’s abode weren’t too bad, mostly level terrain that allowed us to work out some of the kinks in our overworked legs. plus, it was really pretty with the sun casting a golden glow over our scenery, so we were all peaceful and stuff. we stopped at the engineer’s house, and i did the woman’s work of holding the Chex Mix bag (cheddar, yum!!) and the other woman’s work of making the Gatorade while Frank and the other engineer chatted for a second. as soon as we left, “you know, SarahK, i’m going to be way too tired to set up two tents tonight. maybe i’ll have the strength to set up one.”

.7 miles later at Rory Sparks or Roaring Springs, we had more food and put our feet up for a few minutes. but then these Germans and Texans came over and we felt rude using the entire picnic table as a leg rest, so we let them in too. since i look all hiker-y and smart, they all started asking me questions about distances to their destinations (poor suckers, they were on their way down); that was funny a little later, because i was saying stuff like “it’s about 2.2 to Cotton Gin, 3.6 to Ribbon Candy, 9.2 to Charlie’s Angels”. the Germans were looking all happy about that, saying stuff like “that’s not bad”, and then they said, “wait. is that miles or kilometers?” “oh, sorry, that’s miles.” they looked a bit deflated after that.

the Texans were two guys from Austin who i assumed were gay because they were tanned and hiking with their shirts off and from Austin; i got all drooly thinking about my favorite Austin restaurant (Louie’s 106) and the Prince Edward Island mussels in mariniere sauce w/ linguine. after talking to them for a while, i realized the guys couldn’t be gay, because one of them was named Homer, and they didn’t help each other with their sunblock. plus they started talking about their dad, and that made me think they were brothers. Frank left me with the strangers and went off to the toilets again (man that boy drank a lot of Gatorade, probably because if he didn’t i’d nag). while he was gone, they were curious about our situation, because i had already told them Frank was from Florida and i from Texas (i have such a big mouth).

NOT-GAY AUSTIN GUY #1: so are y’all having fun on your trip?
SARAHK: oh yes, we’re having a blast. we’re glad about that, because this is our first time to meet in person, and that’d be a beating spending five days together if we didn’t get along.
[wide-eyes]
NGAG #1: oh yeah? how’d y’all meet?
SARAHK: on the internet. [that always makes people pause, teehee.]
HOMER: wow.
NGAG #1: really?
SARAHK: yeah, actually, he has a website, and i model his t-shirts. [they all looked at me dumbfounded, and i’m sure they were thinking, “well, i hope she cleans up well if she’s a t-shirt model”.]
NGAG #1: wow, that’s neat. and you’re already working on trying to get him to move to Texas. [i had brought it up once or twice.] that’s great.
SARAHK [who will just keep on volunteering info as long as there is an awkward silence]: yeah, he had a contest to find a t-shirt babe, and somehow i won, so he sends me t-shirts, and i email him pictures, and he puts them on his website.
HOMER: wow.
[Frank returned.]
SARAHK: oh, hey, I was just telling them our sordid story, how we met on the internet and whatnot.
FRANK: yeah, i’m just glad she turned out to not be an axe murderer. would be an awful way to die, by axe murdering.
NGAG #1: hey, man, Texas is great. you’d love it there.
HOMER: yeah.
FRANK: but Florida is full of mountains and has no beaches anywhere. SarahK likes mountains.
SARAHK: you’re telling filthy lies.
FRANK: but you do like mountains.

we left Roaring Lion and continued onward & upward. and upward. and upward. we ate our lunch at the Eye of the Needle, which is one of the most beautiful spots in the canyon, ifin yer askin’ me. on this, the return trip, we liked putting our feet up. i had told Frank before we hiked down that putting up your feet for 5-7 minutes every hour reduces 30% of the toxins in your legs and gives you more energy; he only bought into it after he saw a poster at Cottonelle that said the same.

it took us a while to make it the next 1.7 miles to the Tunnel, because my legs sometimes just stopped walking. all on their own. i would try to get them to move, but they kept muttering something about an 80-pound pack and anger and t-shirt babes. i had no control over when and where my feet stopped, so they often stopped directly in the sun. i tried to make Frank continue on without me, ‘cause i knew he had been drinking a lot of Gatorade (he ran out, and his sweet t-shirt babe shared) and probably needed the air toilets again, but he refused. he either said, “i can’t go on without you, because you have the only Gatorade now, and what if i get thirsty?” or “i’m not leaving you behind, because you carry the only snakebite kit, and you wouldn’t be able to catch up in time if i got bit by a rattlesnake,” or “i’m not going on without you, because in the brief moments we would be separated, i’d miss you too much, for i heart you,” or “quit whining and walk, Klutzerella, because i don’t want to miss it the next time you fall.”

anyway, he patiently waited while i slowly trudged… unlike some people i know (cough Sa cough), who left me behind and told the park rangers to go look for me. :) we finally made the Tunnel and i thought, “only 1.8 miles to go!” which turned into “1.8 stinkin’ miles to go!” which quickly became “i’d rather die here, looking out over the Canyon and up at my beloved pinstriped cliffs, than hike 1.8 more miles.” that continued to morph until Frank emerged from the windy toilets and i told him, “i’ve seen the stupid view, i care not about the pinstriped cliffs. leave me here to rot.” Frank, kind man that he is, nudged me hard with his foot (in some cultures it’s called “kicking”) and reminded me that my flesh would be consumed by evil ground squirrels were i to stay there and die. “but i want to rot here.” “they won’t let you rot; they’ll eat you first, because they’re evil.”

i despaired but marched on. Frank got considerate all of a sudden, and any time he went up a steep step, he would turn around and give me his hand so i could leverage on him to take some weight off my legs. after about the third time of him explaining it to me, i caught on that i should put weight on his hand in order for this to help my legs. sometimes i not smart.

at the Coconino Overlook, we rested again and i could almost taste the trailhead. probably because my face was in the dirt. our Austin friends, who had just dayhiked down to Rainbow Brite, showed up again and were all happy to see us. Frank punched one of them because he thought the guy was hitting on me. i chastised him, and he said, “i realized they’re not gay! their shoes don’t color-coordinate with their fanny packs, so they’re not just friendly gay guys! they’re trying to steal my t-shirt babe!” “but Frank, i’m not available for stealing. i have eyes only for modeling your t-shirts.” we hugged, and Not-Gay Austin Guy #1 was forgiving enough to take our picture. awwwww.

.8 miles to go, we were pumped up and ready to just get it done. after about .1 miles, i fell prostrate on the ground and told Frank to send a mule. but then he pulled out the heavy artillery to coax me to the top.

FRANK: SarahK, when we get out of the Canyon, we get to take a shower.
SARAHK: Frank, i’m not showering with you.
FRANK: i meant separate showers. you know what else we get to do?
SARAHK: get full body massages?
FRANK: no. but you can eat anything you want.

i moved a lot faster after that, and i didn’t mind it so much any more, because our trudging was now through the beautiful aspen trees. we saw a Bambi and its Mommy, neato, as our hike wound down. finally, we emerged victorious at the trailhead, and i promptly died.

we put in for reservations at the Lodge, and they told us we could eat in 3 hours. it was 6:30 p.m. so we did the next best thing to eating. showering! of course, the showers are of the “pay” variety, so i got some money from Mr. Sugar Daddy and gathered all my stuff.

my dollar bills did not fit in the quarter slots.

finally got that all worked out and got clean. hooray!! i even fixed my hair and put on all my makeup and got pretty.

because my legs had stopped working completely, i let Frank set up camp.

SARAHK: uh, Frank, where’s the other tent?
FRANK: oh, i couldn’t find it. but i was able to find both thermarests, my blankie, your sleeping bag, and 2 pillows.
SARAHK: oh, here’s the other tent, it was next to my pack. why don’t you set it up now?
FRANK: well, i would, but we’d be late for our dinner reservations. come along now, T-Shirt Babe.

walking through the parking lot at the lodge, we saw our Austin friends.

NOT-GAY AUSTIN GUY #1: hey, how y’all doin’?
SARAHK: much better.
NGAG #1: oh, hey, it is y’all! wow, y’all cleaned up! [i do look good in red.]

Frank punched NGAG #1 again, because he translated that as, “man, your T-Shirt Babe is H-O-T, and i want to steal her!” NGAG #1 didn’t hold a grudge and even offered to share his sandwich with us, but Frank muttered something about a knuckle sandwich, put a protective arm around my shoulder, and marched forth.

dinner was yummy, i had pork tenderloin with this awesome green chile sauce (super spicy), and Frank had steak. i finished every bite of food on my plate, while he just nibbled his, as always. so i put my head down on the table and slept while i waited for him to finish his meal.

Frank had to drive back to our campsite, as my eyes were crossing and i’d lost my very last and most spare pair of glasses. i don’t remember anything after that, but i woke up VERY COLD several times during the night. “FRANK, YOU COVERS STEALER!!” so much for cuddling for warmth. there was no cuddling, just lots of blanket stealing. grrrrr.

UPDATE: the lying liar’s version.

my blog son-in-law Ian over at Pinwheels and Orange Peels celebrates his blogiversary today, but when y’all read this, it’ll be almost yesterday for him, since they’re 15 hours ahead. y’all go wish him another great year and tell him to post more often. :) go go go!