one of *those* days

It's been one of those days when you find giant bags filled exclusively with banana-flavored twin popsicles at the grocery store (for $1.62!).

One of those days when you lay a blanket on the lawn, sprawl out on your stomach and read a sappy story while your children play in the water without punching each other, screaming, or dying.

One of those days when you not only finish your run on the treadmill, but you finish it faster than you did last time. And without any barfing or swearing.

One of those days when the sun does down at 8:30 instead of 5:30.

One of those days when you get a long nap with your wubbie and no one accidentally sits on you.

One of those days when you get a really good laugh--the kind that makes your eyes water.

One of those days when you're not retaining water.

One of those days where you pull your hair into a ponytail, and hang around in your sweats all day.

It's been one of those days.

Easter

*The* Family Yard Sale

After listening to "The Lonely" for the three hundredth time, I decided to dust myself off and throw a yard sale with my mom and brother-in-law, Manny. [You are aware that one doesn't simply have a yard sale, right? It must be thrown, like a surprise party or a bottle rocket (if you're DJ).]

It was the event of a lifetime, if for no other reason than that I finally got rid of that "Lobsters" sign that I've tried unsuccessfully to sell in our last two yard sales. I got a dollar for it. Suckas! I would feel bad, except the girl who bought it was purchasing it as a prank for her friend. What does it say about my decorating that people buy my stuff to play jokes on other people? Well, joke's on her. That thing's like a bad penny.

(That red arrow isn't actually a part of our driveway, I painted that in to show the cursed "Lobsters" sign. That's it, in all of its tacky, kitschy glory. Now that I'm a little less tacky, maybe I'll take up yoga.)

The yard sale was also a success in that Macey was able to learn the values of hard work and capitalism (if your idea of hard work is having your mom bake a million muffins while you're at a play date and then sitting in a camping chair taking people's quarters). In that way, her experience was a microcosm of capitalism. I (the Chinese sweat shop laborer) toiled away making muffins while Macey jumped on her friend Abi's trampoline. Macey (Walmart) then sold my products and kept the quarters mostly to herself. Once again, joke's on her. I eat her Halloween candy after she falls asleep (keep an eye on China). The muffins were a hit. Macey made $30.85, plus ten Chilean pesos, which will come in handy if we're ever in Chile and want to purchase one tenth of a completo, Manny.

Another reason the yard sale was successful? I gained custody of my mother's coveted gravy-vomiting chicken. Behold:

She is now keeping watch over my family from her little roost above our cupboards...

...and the balance of tackiness has been restored. So much for yoga.

The Lonely

It's 12:31 AM. DJ is in Dallas for the next six weeks. My only choice is to do nothing but cry my face off and eat cake bites by the bucketload while listening to this song.

The bright side: I have the entire king-sized bed to myself.

Ketchup Time

The strangest thing happened. I was kissing my boyfriend when all of a sudden I sucked the life out of him, he died, and I hitchhiked to northern Alberta. One thing led to another and found myself attending a special school where Jean-Luc Picard was the principal. No, wait...

That's what happened on Netflix last night.

I'm trying to account for the past two weeks and I got nuttin'.

I know we did this in between sessions of General Conference:

Macey did this:And then Tess did this:Which led to this:A week later, we went to the temple to see my beautiful sister and brother-in-law, Mariank, get sealed for time and eternity and beyond. Then, we did this:

and this:

and this:

This is my wonderful mother surrounded by her children-in-law: one Italian, one Chilean, one mason, one historian, one salesman, and one dietitian (and one Jason Bourneian, not pictured). Quite the motley crew she's inherited. Don't worry, Mom. It could be worse. We could have married the Motley Crue:

Yikes. This is almost as scary as the dream I had last night wherein I was grocery shopping and this polygamist boy was following me around, flirting with me. I was like, "Give it up, man!" and then I looked down and I was wearing one of those homespun, pioneer-style dresses and my hair was in an intricately-woven braid. I woke up before I could check to see if I was wearing tennis shoes...

...which brings us to the present. I just got a text message from DJ, who left for Dallas yesterday morning. It says, "We made it! Got here at 4 TX time and I'm linning up housing now. Beautiful place. Kiss the kids for me! Love you." I texted him back without mentioning anything about how he misspelled the word lining. I'm feeling rather magnanimous this morning.

I think my benevolent mood can be associated with my excitement about moving to this lovely place in six weeks:

Happy Monday, one and all!