February 6th, 2004

Wedding day


Picture this: Sicily, 1912. You're me, you have too many carrots and onions that need to be used up, and you've just found a recipe for carrot soup.

What do you do?

You ignore your plans to clean out your closet and make soup. Carrot soup. Really good carrot soup. This is really cool, except that it occurs to me that almost the only thing I ever cook these days... is soup. Or hummus. Meh. Like I care. I make so much soup because the next day when I come home from work tired and hungry, it can be reheated in less time than a frozen pizza, and in many cases (carrot soup, for instance) contributes less to my impending major health problems.

Uh, yeah, I made soup last night. As the snow was coming down, Nate got a call from his cousin Ryan who had decided to make the 135-mile drive down to Madison after work so they could go out drinking. In the snow. In the night. In the dark. Extra points to anybody who knows the connection between the movie I just quoted and 3D-glasses with their lenses reversed. Uh, anyway, the aforementioned spur-of-the-moment drive happens every once in awhile, and I just don't get it. Especially in the snow. If I'm gonna decide spontaneously drive 135 miles after work, show up unannounced and spend a night or two, I'll at least want to stop at home and clean up a bit first. Not that I mind him being here, I just can't imagine doing it myself, especially on a night when the interstate moved at about 25 miles per hour between the High Point exit and Highway 30 (at about 8:30 PM, in case you cared). On the other hand, I made drives like this myself a few years ago, but they were either to Fond du Lac or Decorah, Iowa (85.1 miles and 157.9 miles from Stoughton, respectively), and never in all this snow. Except once. That was Fond du Lac. Never mind.

Blah blah blah blah blah and my parents just signed off on a new house, which they'll be moving into in June. It's in the country, sorta outside Evansville. We need to get their current house cleaned up so it's saleable, which is a daunting task. Their house is about 130 years old, and is in fine condition for it's age, but my mom inherited it from an aunt who never threw anything away. She was wheelchairbound and collected stuff, so there were little paths running between the piles of junk. We got rid of most of it, but the rest is family stuff that has never been sorted through, and we all know it'll be a bigger task than we expect it to. I promised I'd go home tomorrow and go through some of the stuff they're storing for me.

Anyway, I'm going to leave you with a message that was forwarded to me this afternoon. I'm sure you work with somebody who has to forward everything that ends up in her inbox, right? Yeah. That's who this message came from. She never sends anything good, just forwards of the "You're my friend because..." and "Communism is alive and well in the liberal media" varieties. I get no fewer than five of these from her every morning. Collapse )
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