No Doi has a new home. Please pay no mind to the boxes on the floor, bare walls, and obnoxious template design. It's a work in progress. It just means that you'll have to keep visiting every day to watch the changes.
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www.nodoi.minimalpixel.com
(Yes, this means I will no longer be posting here. Because, I've moved here. So, come see.)
Husband and I spent the last 24 hours at an event. One of those events that includes an impressive guest speaker, copious amounts of snacks and (non-alcoholic) beverages, and the expectation that you will mingle build relationships. Good times. And while there was an impressive speaker, my favorite take-away from these sessions was the discovery that women are naturally eco-friendly. According to the label, this New Eco-Shape Bottle design contains 30% less plastic than regular bottles. Conservation is important. And I speak for females everywhere when I say to the world, "You're Welcome."
You know when you get married, or enter any kind of exclusive relationship, that there will be a certain level of give and take. One of the things that Husband and I give each other is the option of attending or not attending non-holiday extended-family get-togethers. (The holiday related family get-together policies are drafted, presented, and voted upon during small, closed meetings not entirely unlike the G8 Summits.)
Several weeks ago I was presented with an opportunity to take and thereby pass up the invitation to attend the Annual Husband's Family Reunion. I, however, chose to give and decided to attend - but only after signing a notorized document stating that I was attending of my own free-will.
We get there, after a heinously long drive, and walk into the front door of the Senior Center to find ourselves immediately in the food line. After filling our plates with Family Reunion Food, we headed further in to find some family that we actually know, and end up passing Very Tall Man in a Kilt--with whom we are later forced into posing for a picture. Husband is ecstatic to find out that the family tartan is formed entirely by varying shades of blue, and proceeds to plant his blue plaid flag firmly on the grounds that his undying affection for blue plaid shirts is obviously genetic and therefore cannot and should not be stifled. We find family that we recognize but alas, find no available seating near them. Fortunately, we find more family that we recognize hiding in the back "Kids Area" and decide to join them. Strangely, there's a corner of the "Kids Area" room where a dog owner is camping out with her dog that has taken a bite out of no fewer than two reunion attendees. Good place for a skittish dog, near the kids.
Conversation with familiar family is pleasant. Then that one Uncle shows up. You know the one. The one who has all the crazy stories about life in the 'holler, and without the back-up of certain trusted eyewitnesses you'd never believe his stories? Yeah, that Uncle. Well, the conversation quickly turns to outhouses and indoor vs. outdoor plumbing when he poses this question to me: "Did you always have indoor plumbing?" And when I kinda stare at him, half trying to form a response and half watching to see if he's joking, he repeats, "You know, growing up? Did you ever have an outhouse?" Um. No. See, I was born in 1981 and by then most people in the United States have had indoor plumbing for quite some time. But I do have a Grandma, who as a child, got a pencil as her only Christmas present. And accidentally dropped it in the outhouse. And fished it out, because she isn't going to let a little poop ruin her Christmas. That's as close as I come.
Time to leave. We say our good-byes. Head for the car. We made it, it wasn't too crazy! Seeing family is nice. I might agree to come next year, I am a good wife. We are steps from our car when the euphoria is interrupted by an uncle who dosen't ever remember meeting Husband and tells my Mother-In-Law that he didn't know that she and my Father-In-Law ever had any children. "Whatever!" she says to him, in a much nicer way. We wrap up the introductions and I stick out my hand for him to shake good-bye when he pulls me in for a hug. AND A KISS ON THE NECK. He totally stole some sugar. Mother-In-Law assures me that it's not personal, he does this to all the women because he is odd. Oh no. Odd or not, it's personal. There are only a few acceptable stranger-kissing zones on the body and the neck IS NOT one of them. Not in America.
This time in the give and take game, I gave. And I got taken.
1) Are you a stickler?
Not in the way that if I had to describe myself in only three words, one of them would be "stickler."
2) Do these pants make me look fat?
Not at first. But probably after lunch and as the day wears on, you'll find them increasingly uncomfortable.
3) Tell us the nicest thing anyone has ever said to you.
It happens every time someone laughs at something I say. Unless, I'm feeling irritable and Husband laughs when obviously it is not funny!
4) If given the choice, would you prefer to be able to breathe underwater or talk to animals?
Immediately my reaction is definitely the talking to animals one because I don't really like water. But a thorough thinking-through of this choice is indeed necessary.
Breathing underwater; Pros: won't need the scuba lessons, fear of drowning no longer necessary baggage, childhood dream of feeling like a fish realized. Cons: not a huge fan of bodies of water larger than my bathtub, not a great swimmer, would require wearing a bathing suit in public more often than never.
Talking to animals; Pros: they could have some very interesting and insightful things to say and much could be learned, i could calmly ask bees, flies, mosquitoes, and other various buggy and icky things to just go away and stop bothering me, finally find out what the heck cats have to go around being all superior about. Cons: the "Dr. Doolittle" affect.
Hey, look at that shiny thing! Should I get a haircut or grow it out? I think I'm thirsty. This is kinda boring. Wait, what was I thinking about?
5) Do you make decisions easily?
Um. Yes. I think so. Wait. Most of the time. Uh, actually just see question 4.
"I think that my least favorite phonetically spelled name -"
"Wait! You have one of those?!"
"Helloooo, yes! Have we met?"
"Of course, what was I thinking?"
"ANYWAY, my least favorite phonetically spelled name is Dante, spelled D-o-n-t-a-y."
"Oh! Yeah. That's a bad one! Mine is probably Duane spelled with the D first and then the Wayne afterwards."
"Yeah. Is that pronounced Dee-wayne or Doo-wayne?"
This conversation was updated this morning when I discovered Antwanette.
Workin' for The Man.
Loot from my brother.
Cream of Violet and Dark Cocoa Gelato from Jeni's Ice Cream. So very lovely.
