Monday, August 19, 2013

The one where some things come to an end

So, all good things must come to an end and I guess this blog is just one of them. I'm going to be taking this blog down soon, and only writing my author blog. I'd like to incorporate more things about my family on that blog, along with author news. I think it makes for a more well rounded, interesting blog. But it's hard to say good bye to this one. It's seen me through some scary times, and some awesome times. And I feel like I've made valuable friends in the blogging world. So I'm hoping that you all move with me to The Author Spot.
There's also a good chance that I'll be making a book with many of the posts from this blog. So, if you would, I'd be really happy if you'd tell me what your all time favorite post was, so I can be sure to include it.
I want to thank all of the bloggy friends who've been with me since close to the beginning. Those of you who kept me in their hearts and thoughts when things got tough, and those who celebrated happy moments with me too. Your friendship has meant the world to me. And I'm sorry I don't get to your blogs as often as I like. Hopefully by combining both blogs, I'll free up a little time to visit you all at yours.
Again, thanks so much! And please come check out and follow the other blog so we don't lose each other!

Friday, February 1, 2013

The one where Sean and I are ridiculous...

I know what you're thinking ... which post aren't Sean and I ridiculous in? And you're right. We're pretty ridiculous on a regular basis. But some incidents of ridiculousness just scream, "Blog me!" And I have two of those for you today.

One day a week or so ago (it was a Wednesday, not that it matters), Sean and I drove CJ back to his house in Macomb. Someone usually rides with me because I get a little teary when I drop him off and if I have to drive the hour back home alone, I get more than a little teary. So, more often than not, Sean rides along to distract me. Because he's a sweetie like that (but don't tell anyone because it will ruin his street cred).

So, after dropping CJ off we decided to swing through Jimmy John's and get sandwiches to take home for dinner. After I park, I realize Sean is not making any move to get out of the car.

Me: Aren't you going in with me?

Sean: Why?

Me: I don't know what you want.

Sean: The same thing I always get.

Me: Can't you just come in?

Sean: *huge sigh like I'm killing him* Fine.

Now, by that "fine," I know something is up. And as I swing open the door to JJ's~

Sean: *very loudly* Well, I'm not the one who sells my body for money!

Me: *quickly thinking* How else was I going to pay for your gender re-assignment surgery?

All conversation had stopped in Jimmy John's and I turned to the counter to see everyone's mouth hanging open. We got some weird looks, but they certainly made our subs quick. The moral of this story is A) making Sean do something he doesn't want to do ALWAYS has consequences and B) if you're going to hang with us, you better have lightening fast mental reflexes. I like to thing that evening's work went quickly for those JJ employees since they had something so juicy to discuss.

And yesterday Sean and I got tattoos. I got a special one in honor of CJ. My favorite tattoo artist designed a Claddagh symbol using the autism puzzle pieces for the heart and put CJ's initials in for me. And I got a little star for Dylan added to my foot tattoo. Sean got Marvin the Martian on his leg. His Dad has one there and so does his Uncle.

My CJ tattoo
The purple stars represent my children, so I added a little blue star off of Mo's star for Dylan.
Sean's Marvin.
If you're near the Quincy area and need a tattoo, I can highly recommend Pleasurable Pain. Jerry is a fantastic artist, everything is sterile, and they're nice guys. Mo has had all five of her tattoos there, I've had three of mine, and Sean's had his two done there.
So we go in to get our tats and we're a few minutes early. So Jerry is working on paperwork and Sean and I sit there quietly. But on his laptop he's got Youtube up and so I start watching the video for the song that's playing. To see the video, click here. It was Avenged Sevenfold's A Little Bit of Heaven.
Then I look at Sean and we both chuckle. Jerry turns around and I say~
Me: Your choice of songs leaves me vaguely uneasy.
Jerry: Why? What do you listen too?
Me: Pretty much everything. It's the video for this one ...
Jerry: What? Having sex with dead people is weird?
Me: Funny story. (At that point, he looks uneasy) I'm actually putting out a book of zombie erotica. And after reading the vast amount of submissions for it, necrophilia actually doesn't sound weird to me.
Jerry: *laughs* I bet a lot of people will read that book. Someone told me the other day I looked like the kind of guy who keeps dead girls in his basement.
Me: I don't think so. Besides, looks are deceiving.
And it works out that I'm going to take copies of 50 Shades of Decay to his shop to sell. You just never know what kind of networking will pay off. But later, after Sean gets his tattoo, I get mine. And just as Jerry starts, Sean gets a phone call and walks outside. He comes back in and this conversation ensues~
Sean: Are you doing work emails?
Me: Um, no?
Sean: You are the only person I know who can work through getting a tattoo.
Me: Well you weren't here to talk to me and distract me, so it seemed like a good way to distract myself. By the way, I'm really thirsty. So if you go outside again can you get my soda out of the car?
Sean: I wasn't planning on leaving you.
Me: You just did.
Sean: Yeah, I meant again.
Me: Why? I think I'll be fine. Granted, that might be how little girls disappear. But those are skinny young girls, not chubby grandmas in their forties.
Sean: Ha! You're a grandma getting a tattoo! *he and Jerry both laugh* And besides, those girls don't disappear; they're in his basement.
At which point I start giggling and get admonished to "hold still."
And that my friends, is a glimpse into our ridiculousness. I kid you not, it knows no bounds.
And for those who may not have seen Mo's last tat- here's a picture. I told you Jerry does great work!
Yes, it is HUGE. She better not have too many more children or her whole body will be covered!
Hugs to you all,

Monday, December 17, 2012

The one where I'm mistaken for a fugitive on my birthday...

So, as many of you know, Saturday was my birthday. I'd flown out to California on Monday to return my grandbaby to his parents and visit their new home. The baby was a good traveler, he seemed to like riding on the airplanes and it was a good experience. We had a lot of fun in California. We visited fisherman's wharf in San Francisco, Old Sac Town in Sacramento, toured the base, saw the home they'll be moving into on December 27th (so much nicer than any base house my family lived in and definitely nicer than the apartments Mike & I started out in), ate good food, hung out and generally had a great time.

It was hard to leave. It was hard to say goodbye to my baby and her baby. Dylan has lived with us since he was born and it was like leaving two pieces of my soul out there. Mo and Boo. So I cried. But then I bucked up and Sean and I made our way through TSA and to our gate. Where we found out our flight would be delayed an hour because of a storm in Ontario (where the flight was coming from). Ugh. No one likes flight delays. I approached the desk to let them know that I had a connecting flight in Las Vegas and would be cutting it short on time. They assured me I'd make my connecting flight, but I might not get to board with my "A" pass, meaning that Sean and I might not get to sit next to each other. Fab.

Sean, not being the experienced world traveller that I am, was not happy. So we decided to tour the airport gift shops, where we bought trashy magazines and sour patch kids. These helped pass the time and take care of his crankies. Finally, we boarded our aircraft. They'd oversold the flight, so every seat was taken. Including the one next to me in our row. And, has everyone forgotten airplane etiquette? Is it not rude to promptly put both of your elbows on the armrests so you can text on your phone? Excuse me, sir, I might have wanted to use that armrest. You could have at least asked.

Also, there's turbulence. A lot of it. This doesn't bother Sean and I at all, but it does slow the plane somewhat. And then we land. And sit on the airplane, on the tarmac, because they haven't got a free gate for us. The time before my connecting flight leaves is ticking away. I'm beginning to get annoyed.

So what should have been a lovely hour and a half lay over in Vegas (plenty of time to have a drink and drop some money on the slots) has turned into a mad dash to our connecting flight ten gates away. We bob and weave through the crush of other travelers to arrive at our gate, sweaty and out of breath, only to find that they are delaying the flight for twenty minutes. So I get us a place and Sean runs to the sandwich shop (we haven't eaten in 8 hours and no, I don't count airline peanuts). He returns in the nick of time with two turkey sandwiches, a coke, and a look of sheer surprise. Turns out he didn't realize that two sandwiches and a coke could cost $24. Haha.

So we're lining up to board, while a harassed and frazzled looking airline worker is helping those in wheelchairs on board. I notice one little old lady sitting neglected (and surrounded by other travelers) in a wheelchair some distance from the desk. I asked her if she'd like me to wheel her closer so the attendant wouldn't forget her. At her nod, I did. Turns out, when the attendant checked her ticket, she was on the next flight. Oops.

We get on board, and once again the plane is full. The guy who sits next to me this time also commandeers my arm rest. WTF? And his bony elbow happens to be digging into my side for most of the ride. Not cool. But we get there. And Mike is waiting for us and he has roses.

He seems really alert and chipper so he gets to drive and after a brief stop for sodas, we're finally on our way home from St. Louis. We talk about the trip and Boo. But after an hour and a half, I can tell he's getting sleepy. So I suggest he pull over and I'll drive. So on the outskirts of Hannibal, Mo, he pulls into a closed gas station and we play Chinese fire drill.

Back in the car, I drive through Hannibal and I'm nearly to the turn off for the bridge to Illinois, when a cop in the oncoming lane flashes his lights at me. Huh? Then he pulls a u-turn and turns on his lights. So, slightly bewildered, I pull over. He comes to the car and I hand him my license and registration.

Cop: What are you doing in town tonight?

Me: Travelling home from St. Louis.

Cop: So you're just passing through? You didn't stop anywhere?

Me: Um, well, we stopped at a gas station to change drivers because he was sleepy.

Cop: Shining his light in and looking at Mike & Sean: Did you see anything at that gas station?

Me: No. They were closed.

He asks for Mike & Sean's IDs too. WTH? I can tell he's suspicious but can't figure out why.

Cop: Well, ma'am, you were speeding. You were doing 52 in a 35.

Me: Was I? I'm sorry. I should have been paying more attention. Shit. I haven't had a speeding ticket in 18 years!

Cop: Well, that's better than me. But the fact is you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. We got a call about a fight at the gas station you passed and everyone scattered when the police showed up. When I saw you speeding, I thought you might be one of the people fleeing the scene.

*Seriously? I have a suit jacket on. Do I look like the kind of person who flees the scene of a fight at a gas station?!*

He takes our IDs back to his car and I burst into tears. Mike and Sean kind of chuckle.

Me: Remember the birthday where we were driving home and the tire fell off the van?

Mike: Yeah, it hit a barn.

Sean: See? It's not the worst birthday ever!

Me: Not by a longshot. But I'm so tired and I just want to go home.

I mop up the tears and the cop comes back.

Cop: I'm so sorry about this. You were just speeding in the wrong place at the wrong time. You've got a great driving record, you've been very pleasant, and I noticed it was your birthday. I feel like a jerk giving you this ticket, but once I write it, it's set in stone. I'm really sorry.

Me: It's not your fault. But do you have to keep my driver's license? I'm going to Florida on Friday...

Cop: Oh, no, we don't do that in Missouri. Man, then I'd really feel bad, keeping your license when you were going on vacation.

And so he gave me my ticket and we drove off. $125 dollars poorer. And the end of my safe driver's discount. And as we drive off~

Mike: Just so you know, we do have a shotgun in the trunk.

Me: WTH??!! You mean I was riding dirty?

Mike: It's Porky's. We're going hunting in the morning and he forgot it. I stopped by and picked it up for him. It's not illegal to have an unloaded gun in the trunk.

Me: Oh. Well at least they didn't bring out the drug dogs.

Sean: That would have been funny as hell, sitting on the sidewalk while the drug dogs searched your car after the day we've had. At least you have a story to tell.

Me: Yeah. And you're welcome fugitives who really were fleeing the scene. F*ckers. They probably all got away while the cop was busy with me.

Sean: let's just pretend tomorrow is your birthday.

And so we did. I slept til 10 and then I talked to my Dad and to Molly. Then Sean and I watched four movies in a row. And a documentary on Doomsday Cults. And we ate take out. So it worked. We kind of figured out that I only have good birthdays every five years anyway. So I'm anticipating 45, that's when the next one is due.

Happy Travels, everyone. I'm off to Florida on Friday. Wonder what kind of trouble I'll get into along the way...


Sunday, October 14, 2012

The one where I share a funny story...

I'm not going to apologize for my absence (although, I am sorry), I'm just going to relate a funny story. Please note that names have been changed to protect the guilty. Because, well, really, the innocent never do anything they need protecting from, do they? But I didn't change Sean's name, because let's face it, you'd know it was him anyway.

Sean has a friend, we'll call him Jethro. And Jethro has just begun seeing a new girl (no, I don't know her name). Well, once upon a time (a few weeks ago) in a land far far away (or 30 minutes anyway) new girlfriend's evil (or slightly misguided) ex-boyfriend comes to her house and begins making an ass of himself (as young boys often do). New girlfriend calls Jethro in tears. Unfortunately, Jethro is stuck in a land farther away, running errands with his father. What to do? Jethro calls in other heroes to save new girlfriend. Namely, Sean. Sean agrees that this is a problem and since another friend, we'll call him Roscoe (yes, I do know it's a silly name. pay attention, would you?), is already on his way to Sean's house, he phones him up and tells him they have a fair maiden to save so he should drive "double time." (Honestly, I don't know what driving "double time" means and I'm pretty sure I don't want to know.) But apparently, Roscoe is some kind of stunt driver akin to those in the Fast & Furious movies and he gets to our house much more quickly then normal (but, thankfully, all in one piece).

Now, we have two back up heroes who speed to the damsel in distress' house. They walk around the house and notice  two groups of people. One group includes our fair lady, her friends, and possibly siblings (these details are a little thin) and the other group includes young men set on douchebaggery, the evil ex and his minions. Our heroes assess the situation and then:

Sean: Are you Jethro's fair maiden?

Fair Maiden: Yes (this may or may not have been said with tearful hopefulness)

Sean: Okay. Then which one of you jerkwads (this may not be the exact wording) is starting trouble?

*No reply*

Sean: We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way.

*Evil ex is pushed forward by now uncomfortable henchmen*

Roscoe: We need to have a talk with you.

*Sean and Roscoe approach Evil ex*

Roscoe: Now this can go down one of two ways. The first way is you apologize and leave quietly. The second is much more violent and doesn't end well for you, except that you still apologize and leave.

*Evil ex blusters for a minute*
*Sean pulls Roscoe aside*

Sean: *speaking in very loud whisper intentionally trying to be overheard* I think we're going to have to bash some skulls.

Roscoe: I was hoping you'd say that...

Evil ex: Yeah, okay, whatever, we're leaving. Mumbled apology. *The villain and his minions retreat*

Fair Maiden's brother: Wow. Jethro really did send his friends.

*Our heroes begin walking back around the house to their vehicle*

Someone in crowd: Wait, good sirs, what are your names?

Sean: *thrown casually over his shoulder* Starsky and Hutch.

And that, dear friends, was your story for today. I'll try to be more frequent with my postings.


Wednesday, July 25, 2012

The one where I get interviewed...

You guys are not going to believe this, but I'm going to be interviewed and featured on this site: Mommy Page. I know, you're all wondering if they actually read my blog before picking me. That was my initial thought too. Then I thought maybe I was being punked. Because, I hear you all saying, "But, Spot, you're more like the anti-Mommy." I know, right? But they must have read my blog because the interview questions actually pertain to a post or two. And those questions? Man, they're hard. I'm freaking out just a little. But don't tell anyone, it would ruin my image.

So I'm definitely going to do the interview and I will let you all know when it is up; hopefully, you'll find a minute or two to sneak over and check it out, leave me a little comment love, and generally promote a site that apparently doesn't want to be preachy or "cookie cutter"ish. Let's face it, if they did, they wouldn't touch my blog with a ten foot pole. I mean I've openly admitted to not knowing where my children were every minute of every single day; letting them endanger their health by climbing tall trees, handling snakes (okay, so I totally did not encourage that, quite the opposite), riding without pads or helmets; and snarking at them. But, hey, they survived and became mostly functioning members of society (provided you don't ask Lu where any European countries are located or think that plans for total world domination is an odd life plan for a guy).

I've also stated numerous times that I'm looking forward to my children vacating the premises. I get really funny looks for that one sometimes. And it makes me wonder if people think they want their kids to live with them forever. And if they do, what kind of accident was it that caused the head injury that knocked your screw loose? Because, let's face it, no matter how close you are to your offspring (and anyone reading this blog knows that I'm nearly super glued to mine), there comes a time when you want some space. And I'm not talking about locking yourself in the bathroom for ten minutes with your fingers in your ears, refusing to converse with anyone standing outside the door. (You know you've been there, don't try to deny it.) And after raising them up, I deserve some "me" time. Or better yet, some "me & mike" time. So while I love them dearly, and will cry copiously the day they move out, I will also do a secret (okay, now that I've put it in writing maybe not-so-secret) happy dance.

They need the chance to blossom. Lu needs her own house so that two adult women with different ways of doing things aren't trying to survive in the same kitchen. Sean needs to not have me cook for him, clean his room, balance his checkbook, and amuse him on a routine basis. They need to flaunt their independence, make some mistakes, and become fully adult. Do I wish they weren't both moving half a continent away? Definitely. But I also know that there's nothing much around this area for them. We've always raised our children to want to get out of dodge and find their own niche in the world. I'll miss them like crazy (especially my adorable grandson) but there are cell phones, skype, and air travel. I'll make use of them all. Frequently.

And Mike & I? Well, I need time to devote to work and not feel guilty about neglecting the family. We both need a little less stress and a little more downtime. And we need more couple time.

And guess what? Lu & Sean took baby Dylan to visit his dad in Texas. So the next six days are a practice run at being empty- nesters. I'm only 8 hours in, Lu's called once already, but I'm kind of liking this silence thing. Just me and six sleeping cats. I'll let you know how it goes...


Wednesday, June 13, 2012

The one where I have a nighttime visitor...

Okay, so remember the last post where I had to interrupt my movie and walk through the dark, scary woods dodging werewolves? Well, you'd think a girl would get a break after that, wouldn't you? Nope.

I finally make it back to the couch and turn my movie back on. I get settled in all comfy and start enjoying the movie. Then the weird noises start. Let's remember I'm already on edge. Well, a couple of times I thought I heard a door open, like one of the inside doors, maybe to Mike's office, and I figure it's just Sean getting home from Scouts. Except  I didn't hear his car pull up or the outer door open. And each time I get up to check--no one is there. So I tell myself it's just the cats pawing at the door to the downstairs because they don't like being shut down there at night.

Then I hear a scratching at the back door. And I figure it's just our outside cat, wanting to come in. So I try to ignore it. Then it becomes a frantic, scratching, loud noise. So I get off the couch and walk to the back door. The kitchen is pretty dark, only the light over the stove is on and it's dark outside. It sounds like the stupid cat got itself stuck between the screen and the door. So I open the door. (You were all screaming at your screens, yelling, "DON'T OPEN THE DOOR!" weren't you?)

 Well, I did. I looked down at the animal at my feet and, in the time it took me to realize that it was not my black and white cat, it took my measure and darted between my legs, racing through the kitchen.

"Holy shit! There's a raccoon in my house." That's what came out of my mouth. Luckily, the raccoon had pretty much trapped itself in the hallway. The outside door was shut, the downstairs door was shut, Mike's office door was shut, and I threw the baby gate up to keep it out of the kitchen. Because, obviously, that's going to stop it. So I hop the baby gate, walk into the dark hallway and flip on the lights. The raccoon has climbed the door frame so it's eye level with me and I'm only a foot away from it. I'm not sure who was more freaked out, me or the raccoon.

Me: Shhh. It's okay little guy (little guy? This thing was bigger than my biggest cat and he's huge.) I'm not going to hurt you, okay? Let's just figure out how we can get you back inside.

So I run to the phone.

Sean: Hello?

Me: Where are you?

Sean: On the gravel, almost home. Why?

Me: There's a raccoon in the house!

Him: Shit! Okay. I'm almost there. Stay away from it, those things are vicious.

Me: I've got it trapped in the hallway.

So he hangs up. I go into the kitchen to look for some food and grab a piece of cheese. (Don't even ask why that was what I grabbed) Visions of the scene in ET where they lure him inside with Reese's Pieces float through my mind. (And why don't I have Reese's Pieces just lying around?) I take the cheese to the raccoon and kind of wave it in front of him. Then I tear it into pieces and make a trail from where he is around the corner and to Mike's office, thinking if I get him that far I can open the door and shoo him out. Then I climb up on Mike's desk to wait. No movement from the raccoon.

Sean comes busting through the door and says,

Sean: Where is it?

Me: around the corner on top of the door frame.

Sean: Do you know how it got in?

Me: Um. Well, yeah. It knocked, and I let it in.

Sean: *giving me his patented "you're the stupidest person on the face of the planet look"* You let it in?

Me: Um. Yeah. I thought it was the cat.

Sean: It doesn't look anything like the cat.

Me: It was dark!

So he starts to walk around the corner.

Sean: Holy hell, what happened to your cheese? It's all over the place!

Me: I was trying to lure the raccoon.

Sean: With cheese?

Me: It's in the rodent family, right?

*again with the look*

Sean: Get in the kitchen.

He opens both doors to Mike's office. And gets a broom from my pantry. I hop the baby gate into the kitchen.

Me: What are you going to do?

Sean: I'm going to knock it off the door frame and chase it outside.

Me: You can't knock it down! It'll get hurt.

Sean: No it won't. They're like cats, it'll land on it's feet.

And then he yells, "HUZZAH!" And he knocks down the raccoon, chases it through Mike's office with the broom, hitting it in the butt, and onto the steps, where he does some crazy victory dance.

Me: Well, I don't think we have to worry about him coming back. He's probably telling all his buddies not to go to the big house. That crazy lady tried to feed him cheese.

Sean: No. Now it's going to be like a right of passage for all the teenage raccoons. Dare you to go up to the house and scratch at the door! And then they'll run away.

Me: F*ck. I'll constantly be opening the door and nothing will be there.

The movie? Oh yeah. I finished it the next day. And while this happening was hilarious, the raccoon party on my deck the next night was not. They dug through all of my pots and threw dirt everywhere. Thankfully, I'm such a procrastinator that I hadn't even planted anything yet. (Go me!) They also managed to knock over a garbage can and get the garbage everywhere. So I had to go get a tough one, with a strong lid and bungee cords to hold it down. And I'll fix their "pot" parties. I've got a topsy turvy planter. Take that, raccoons!

Moral of the story? That's not always opportunity knocking on your door. Sometimes it's local wildlife.


Friday, June 8, 2012

The one about werewolves and corndogs...

<----These kind of werewolves. Not these kind of werewolves--->

I know. Right now you're sitting there wondering what the french toast werewolves and corn dogs have to do with each other. Don't get ahead of yourself. All shall be revealed.

So Mike left Sunday night for Camp Eastman. They're doing a new joint crew week this year and he and Phil ended up being the crew weeks two deep leadership. In non-Scout speak: Mike had to go hang out with the ranger at the other camp and watch over the 8 boys who had come up for crew week. They'd spend half their week up there and half their week down here, doing projects for both camps and then having some fun time too. I'm used to Mike being gone a lot so I didn't figure it was a big deal. Except that, inevitably, the weird shit always happens when he's not here to deal with it. Like the time the limescale remover that he told me to put in my dishwasher actually ate the dishwasher and turned my kitchen into a lake. Or how he left me the first week we moved out here and being a city girl, I'd never heard coyotes. I nearly wet myself in fear. But it's whatevs. He's got a job to do.

So I'm sitting alone Monday evening. Sean is at a scout meeting and Mo & Dylan have just gone to bed. I fire up the DVR to watch a Lifetime movie (don't judge, it was about an artist who talked to an imaginary friend), and I'm maybe twenty minutes in when the phone rings. It's Mike.

Mike: Sorry. I know the baby is in bed. But is Sean there?

Me: It's Monday night. He's never home on Monday nights. (you'd think the man could get this schedule down. Sean's only had scouts on Monday nights for the last like 9 years.)

Mike: Shit.

Me: What do you need?

Mike: I needed him to go down and unlock the Cook's Cabin.

Me: Why?

Mike: The DE who was going to move in last week just called to see if I'd unlock it, but I told him I was up here. So he said he'd stay in Polar Bear as originally planned, but I think I locked it when NYLT left this weekend.

Me: Okay. I'll go down and unlock it. Which key is it?

Mike: You'll have to check that yellow sheet and find it.

Me: What yellow sheet?

Mike: The one on my desk. Or maybe the other desk. It's there somewhere.

Me: It's on top the printer. Alright, got the key. Do you have a flashlight somewhere? It's hella dark out there.

Mike: Um, somewhere. But the outside lights on the cabin and dining  hall are on so you should be okay.

So I go out and get in the car and drive down to the parking lot, where I find the gate closed and locked. At this point, I have two options. I can drive back to the house, call Mike and try to find the key to the gate, or I can just walk the rest of the way to the Cook's Cabin and unlock the door. I figure walking will be faster. Its about five feet into my walk that I realize it really is hella dark out. And I'm alone in camp. And there are dark woods everywhere. First, I start to wonder if coyotes or raccoons ever attack people. Then I start to worry about snakes. Then, as I'm passing the health lodge, there's a large commotion behind it, and I can make out the bushes shaking fiercely. Then I start to think about werewolves (again, no judging! I watched Teen Wolf that night). Then I speed up my pace and keep glancing over my shoulder. Then it dawns on me that is EXACTLY what people in horror movies do just before something really bad happens to them! CRAP. So I hurry to the safety of the lights of the dining hall, cross to cook's cabin to find...the damn door is already unlocked. WTF?

So I turn around and start the trip back to my car. I'm still uneasy and glancing around nervously. I mean, I have to walk right past the health lodge again. And by now, it's dawned on me that if a werewolf sees me, I probably look like a corn dog to him. I'm plump, juicy, awkward and slow. Might as well be meat on a stick. Yep, I'm the fair food of the werewolf diet. Fabulous.

I'm now also slightly pissed off. I made a wasted trek through the scary, dark woods at night. I get home and call Mike back.

Me: So the gate's locked.

Mike: No it's not. It's just dummy locked to make it look locked.

Me: Well I couldn't get it open.

Mike: Yeah you have to blah...blah...blah.

Me: Don't you think that would have been pertinent information to give me before I went down there?

Mike: oh, um, yeah?

Me: *Dramatic pause for effect* The damn cabin was already unlocked! I walked, WALKED through the dark to the cabin for you and it was already unlocked. You're lucky werewolves didn't eat me.

Mike: I was afraid of that. Wait? What? Werewolves?

Me: You thought the cabin might be unlocked and you didn't even tell me that? Do you know what I look like to a werewolf?? A corn dog, that's what!!

Mike: *laughing* A corn dog? *more laughter*

Me: You owe me big time, mister!

Mike: *still laughing* Okay,  pumpkin. I love you.

And the best part? That was only the beginning of the night of weird shit. I'll write about the rest of my evening later. And no, I never did get to finish the damn movie.

Stay away from werewolves and dark woods,