I Smell Like Beer. . . .

OK, not still.  But it was a completely appropriate title for this blog.  Here's why:

My rockin' husband surprised me with tickets to go see Tim McGraw and Lady A in concert at USANA.  I was beyond elated, partly because of Tim and Lady A, partly because I loved the venue but mostly because it was a rockin' surprise and I never get surprised.  So. . . excited I was. (that's my inner Yoda coming out).

We made our way to USANA last night and parked our blanket somewhere near the back.  As at most country concerts at USANA, the place was packed, wall-to-wall so we were confident that sitting near the top would lead to a speedy exit.  Little did I know how true that very statement would become.

It was blazing hot and Trev and I decided that one set of $4 drinks would have to due for the night so we were baking like toasted cheesers right about the time that Lady A took the stage.  So far, the concert was rocking. . . except for this quite loud groups of 20 somethings that were standing over us and comparing tattoos and drunken escapades for about 25 min.  It happens though, right?  Right.

Just as Tim took the stage in his trademarked white tank and jeans and the sun was setting behind us so the temp was cooling off, a storm blew in and she was about 5'2".

I saw a "dude" (you now officially know what he looked like, right?  The pic in your head is accurate.  Just go with it.) approaching quickly from down the slope of blankets.  He was carrying what else but two over sized beer cans.  Let's pause for a minute and reflect.  I wasn't looking for trouble.  I wasn't scoping out the drunkest people (like I normally do) and waiting for a fight.  Trev and I had just relieved ourselves of the "Tattooed Teens" group so we were feeling pretty good about life.  You see what I'm saying?  Minding our own business.  OK, back to the story.

So as the "dude" approaches, I see a hand grab his bicep. . . a little hand.  The little hand is attached to a little arm and then a little body of a girl that you would swear is not a day over 16 except for the two beers that she is also carrying (maybe she was 16 and had a killer fake id?  Who am I to judge?) and the words that are coming out of her mouth.  I didn't even know that those words existed until 9th grade and I would not have had the prowess to put them together in that order at such a young age.  I would like to think that my writing has improved enough of the years that I could now be that creative in my wordsmithing if I chose to but this is not the time or the place.  My mom read this for crying out loud!

As they proceed to "chat" aka yell at each other, I leaned over to Trev and distinctly remember saying, "Um, they are fighting.  This is not good."  Over the next couple minutes, the happy couple "chats" some more, he grabs her arm, she slaps his.  I figure this is all about ready to die down so I turn my attention back to the star of the night, Tim McGraw!

Well, it seems as though I should have kept paying attention to Heidi and Spencer, er, I mean the happy couple because just as I am settling into Tim's show, all heck brakes loose and we found ourselves in the middle of World War III.  It was like slow motion.  The girl cocked her arm back (the one with the beer cup) and went swinging at the guys face.  To her credit, she really missed bad. . . like an epic fail.  I don't know how she managed to miss him completely but hit the girl in the glasses three feet away right square in the chops with her alcohol while simultaneously soaking about 5 other people near them.  A can of beer comes flying the other direction (I think originally intended for the guy's head), another miss!  Man, this girl is horrible.  More beer on the unsuspecting victims.  Did I mention that two of those victims were Trev and I?  Oh, I missed that?  I SMELL LIKE BEER!  Now you see why my title is appropriate, yes?

So, there we stand, soaked in beer.  The "dude" gives the love of his life a gentle shove backwards and storms the rest of the way up the hill.  I had about four seconds to talk myself out of jumping on his back, pouncing like a wild animal, and bringing him to the floor so that the soaking wet masses could take care of him.  I realize writing this now that I maybe watch a little bit too much Discovery Channel.  I am a lioness. . .

Clearly, we're all a bit flustered.  I smell like I've been drinking but without the side effects.  And from what I've read, the smell is the worst part!  Great, my first beer experience and it's in my hair and on my shirt and all I get is a whiff.  (Total sarcasm here, people.  Jokes, jokes.)  Everyone is looking around, wondering who to kill.  Wonder boy has made a swift exit out of the amphitheatre and his underage counterpart is making her way up the hill.  She looks a tad distressed and all I can muster to say to her is "Are you OK, Hun?" to which she so politely replies "Where did he go?!"

Inner monologue at this very moment: "Really?  You care where he went?  He just pushed you and you guys just dumped beer over everyone.  The ONLY words out of your mouth should be "I'm sorry that my abusive boyfriend pushed me over the edge and I got you all wet."  But no.  You ask me where he is?  You're grounded young lady!" 

Just as I'm about ready to tell the girl that I hope her KISA (that's knight in shining armor for future references) walked off the edge of a cliff, I muster a smidge of calmness and in my best "please take this for what it is, a giant blessing" tone, I say "Um, he left."  I really, sincerely hope that the next words out of her mouth are "Good."  but clearly, that's too much to ask for.  Instead, the little snot yells in my face "I'm FIIIIINE!"

Yup.  That about sums it up.  She goes after her boyfriend (probably because she can't drive yet) and we are left wondering what in the heck went on.  Trev is, um, not happy.  Did I mention that this was his first big concert?  Yeah. . . there go my plans for concert hoping next summer.  He's mad, I'm wet and confused.  At this point, I don't know what Tim is singing about so we decided to leave.

Before we pack up our beer-drenched blanket, Skipper comes back in and stops right next to me.  I think "OK.  Here we go. She has her senses back about her and I'm about to get an apology."  Why do I keep hoing for things?  A million dollars.  World peace.  A chance on Name That Tune.  WHY???  My chances for this apology to actually happen are about as good as me replacing Drew Carrey as the host of The Price is Right.  In true fashion, the girl stares at me for four awkward seconds, turns and walks off.

At this point I"m perplexed.  Was she looking at me and contemplating if she wanted to fight with the girl that checked on her after her "bf" shoved her. . . because let's get this straight right now: if she would have started to fight me, I would have eaten her for breakfast.  And I'm not kidding.  I really think that I've had pieces of steak larger than she is.

The other side of me wonders if she was thinking about apologizing - I'm hoping she was.  And that even though she didn't talk, she was trying to tell me "thanks" without other people seeing her weakness.  Who knows what motivates people to do such a thing?  Pride? Anger?  Probably a fierce combination of the two.

Either way, it was time to depart.  Adieu Tim and the Dancehall Doctors.  Maybe we'll have another sunset.  But as for last night, we quit things quite early so that we could go home, lick our wounds and make sure I didn't smell like beer.

Oh My Gosh. . .

Here I am, less than a week later and I'm keeping my promise.  I told you that I'm turning over a new leaf and I stick to my word.  Never mind that I've said that I'm turning over a new blogging leaf nearly ten times on this blog - this time I mean it.

So, at the time of posting, I have four votes on my Blogger Guilt blog so we're going to please the loyalists first and talk about what they want to hear.  Let's talk engagement, shall we?  Ah. . . we shall.

So, it was a cold day in February.  Sidenote: do you ever wonder why the temperature matters on stories like this?  Especially when the temperature is seasonally normal?  Maybe it would be worth noting if I said "It was February and 90 degrees outside" or "One snowy day in August."  But no, it was February and it was cold, just like it should be.  Mother Nature was behaving herself and piling on the expected 4 feet of snow, just in time for Valentine's Day weekend.  Nothing special about the weather, so scratch that.

Trev and I made plans to go to Moab with his sister Hollie, her husband Jared and their two kids, Anna and Logan.  We love hanging out with their family and were excited to travel with them and do what they and Trevor love - go Jeeping.  I, personally, had never done such a thing.  I'd been to Moab, with a Jeep actually, but my dad washed it the second that it got dirty.  Trails?  No.  Not unless you consider the state highway a "trail".  So, for all intents and purposes, I'd never been jeeping before and I was nervous with anticipation about what the weekend would bring.

Truth time: OK, I was more nervous about packing food than I was about actually going in the Jeep.  You see, we've camped before but generally there was a stove or something to heat up food.  Trev told me a couple of days before we left that we needed to pack food for the two of us for the entire trip - and don't forget that we'll be in the car for two days.  Brilliant!  So now I was less nervous about climbing cliffs in a vehicle than I was about making sure I bought the right kind of beef jerky.  Who thinks like that?  Me, that's who.

So we got up early Thursday morning to head down to Moab.  We, of course, had to do a "Pre-Jeeping Shoot" in the kitchen while I was packing up:

Nice, huh?  Who knew we were so chipper in the A-M?  Yeah, me neither.

So we headed to Moab in a pretty decent snowstorm.  Trev had been working on his Jeep relentlessly for the previous week so we were excited to finally be heading out for our big weekend adventure. 

At this point in time, Trev and I had been dating for about six months.  We'd talked about marriage and about how we felt about each other and really, it was just a waiting game at this point. . . and that went over REALLY well with me, if you can image?  Historically, I've proven that I love to wait.  Nope, no serious action required.  Waiting is half the fun.  Like right now, I'm currently waiting for the day that I no longer have to work and can just watch Oprah.  I don't actually WANT that day to come - just like waiting for it. Are you catching my sarcasm?  Yeah. . . waiting was no bueno.

Anyway, we took a very pleasant and surprisingly short ride and hung out all afternoon, waiting for the McKeeths to show up.  We went to a nicer-than-planned dinner on  Main Street.  You know those times when you walk into what you think is a fairly casual dining environment in your sweatshirt and jeans, only to find out that a plate of pasta is about to cost you $20 and you are too embarrassed to leave because you are in a sweatshirt and have a desperate need to prove to these people that you, too, can afford this pasta you just normally "choose" not to indulge in.  Yeah, that's what we were feeling.  So. . . we ate the pasta and sadly, it was worth every penny.  I say sadly because it made us want to go back. . . bad.  I hate when that happens.

OK, back to the movie.  The next morning I got up and threw on, surprise, a sweatshirt and jeans.  At least I had the sense to straighten my hair.  Hollie says that if I would have walked out in a baseball cap, she would have taken immediate action and had me do something with my hair.  Thank goodness for good people in your life that have your back on really important matters. . . like your hair on what you think is just a normal day but will soon turn out to be magical.

Enter car troubles.  Trev's jeep wasn't running right so we spent the next hour hanging out in the parking lot of the hotel, watching the kids ride their scooters.  Good thing Trev and Jared are handy with the steal, if you know what I mean. . .  I mean that literally - like a steel pipe and tools, not a gun.  But thanks for the lyrics, Warren.  Jeep fixed.

We started up Poison Spider Mesa, a fairly "easy" trail that only requires that you Jeep be completely vertical in a few places.  Sidenote: have you ever been able to look out your front windshield and see the pavement. . . directly in front of said windshield?  If your answer is "yes" then either take my condolences for your car or my congratulations for getting out of Moab alive!  Wasn't expecting that.

We rode for a while and took pictures and had a swell time until we encountered a decent amount of snow on a fairly slick rock face.  Just our luck, Moab had received more snow this year than they had in the previous 20 (we learned that from the locals that were sitting next to us at the previous night's expensive dinner) which makes Jeeping a little more challenging.  Once we decided that we weren't going to get over this obstacles, we sat around and looked for another trail on the map.  OK, truth time again.  Hollie and Jared and Trev looked for another trail.  I was about as useful as a three-year-old helping with a term paper.  So I did what any adult would do. . . I walked around and kicked at the snow until they were finished.

Anyway, we started making our way back on the trail that we had just nearly conquered and decided to stop for lunch.  It's officially test time.  Did I pack the right meat, the right toppings, the right bread?  Would he eat the granola bars or the jerky or the fruit?  Only time would tell but I was ready for Trev's hungry stomach with an arsenal of deliciousness.  After all, we'd only had cereal for breakfast which only makes you fake full (cereal and Chinese food own that category) so I know that he was hungry 20 min after we left.  I was all prepared to make a meaty sandwich and sit on a rock with my cute bf and take in some sun.

I pulled out our little cooler and constructed what I thought was a pretty tasty treat.  As I turned to hand it to Trev with my proud mom look, he took the sandwich and said "Can I go sit with Hollie and Jared?"  Wah, waaaahhh.  "You aren't going to wait for me?  After I slaved for 2 min to make you a sandwich?  No kiss?  No Donna Reed moment?" I said to myself in total dismay.  He was still standing there, waiting for approval.  "Yup."  That's what I mustered.  "Yup."  Ah, the poetic justice of it all.  "Yup."  Off he went.

Now what?  A-ha!  Another sandwich.  He must have been disappointed because of the quantity.  Why wouldn't he be?  Look at all of this bread and meat and I made him one lousy sammy?  So I slap myself together a not-so-good sandwich and rush over to join the convo.  Just as Trev is polishing off his sammy (and not looking pleased), I chime in with "Want another one?!?"  "Nope.  Thanks."  That's it.  I'm never packing camping food again.

So, resigned to my non-cooking station, I stay and chat with Hollie as Trev makes his way back to the truck.  He emerges with his backpack, again not looking too happy.  This backpack has not left Trev's side the whole trip.  Oddly enough, I didn't even think to ask what was in it.  I just assumed some important Jeeping stuff that we needed.  I did try to stick bread in it this very morning and got a resounding "let's put it somewhere else" but oddly enough, I didn't think twice about it and just agreed.

At this point, Trevor is walking up to me and says that he has a present for me.  To answer your question, no, I didn't think anything of it.  We were two days away from Valentine's so I just assumed that he had a card or something that he wanted to give me early.  It was a book.  A homemade book.  And he asked me to read it aloud.

I started reading this stick figure story about two people (yeah, us, we're the people!) that cross paths (true) and meet up (also true) and start dating (see the pattern?  TRUE) and fall in love until one day. . . and this is where I let the pictures take over.

This is the part where I start saying "oh my gosh" repeatedly. . . hence the title.

This last picture makes me laugh because I stopped reading at the proposal.  Who can keep reading at a time like this?  Nobody, right?  Trev had to finish the part about living together forever and this being our beginning.

By the way, here is what I was shocked at:

Today we are married for four months and Trev was right, that was only our beginning.  It's been the craziest and best time of my life since that day in Moab, since we met really.  I couldn't have asked for more.  Trev's so smart. . . I'll never fight him on going to Moab for the rest of our lives.  After all, this is where our story begins. . . and who knows, I might get another ring! 

Blogger Guilt

A wise man once said that the first step is admitting that you have a problem. Wait, I think that was a drunk man that said that who was trying to justify why he wasn't getting help. Either way, it worked out and now the drunk man has been turned into a "wise man" and now has his seat at the head of the Folklore-Gone-Bad table with his well-thought-out quote. This random train of thought is brought to you by my brain. This is how we work people. . . What in the Heck was I Thinking? You never thought you'd be so afraid to ask.

Anyway, I took the drunk man's words to heart and am here and now admitting that I have a problem. I haven't blogged in a long time. A really long time. Since January to be exact. And boy do I have a lot of catching up to do for a variety of reasons. As I'm sitting at this very moment, I realize how much I miss this. Writing has always been a passion (not necessarily a forte, but a passion) and I've really missed it. The saddest part is that I have some GEMS to write about. Don't worry, it's going to happen. I'm admitting that I have a problem. . . see. . . first step.

OK, so now that I have found my happy place again, I'm fixing the issue. Life is too short not to blog about it, am I right or am I right. The new questions now is what comes first???? So, we'll see if anyone out there in blog-o-sphere even still checks on this dwindling masterpiece that once was and we'll take a vote.

Below you will find ten solid blog topics that I need to write about. . . the question is what order. Some of them stream together in theme but will have to be separate blog posts if I ever plan to publish so don't fret. Without further adieu, I present my life and my thoughts over the last six months. You vote, tell me your top three and we'll start wherever the numbers may lie.

1. Got engaged. Sure did. Want to hear about it? It's a goodie. And don't worry. . . it is to my previously mentioned blog hijacker Trevor.
2. Got married. What? Nothing happened between these two things? Not really. We got married 6 weeks after we got engaged. Some may say we're crazy, I say it was incredible. Vote now.
3. The reception. It was a week later so I get a separate blog post. What do cereal, Mario Kart and branches have in common? My reception. No, the answer is not 4-year olds everywhere. There will be pictures. . . you'll get it.
4. Bargain shopping. I have a lot of thoughts on the topic. Some relating to our honeymoon in Mexico, other relating to us selling two cars at once. This could get feisty.
5. The thief. Had our cars broken into and a ton of stuff stolen. If you thought that I wouldn't rest until I caught the perpetrator, you'd be right. And we did. . . . Intrigued?
6. Making a house a home. What am I, Vern Yip? It's harder than it looks. We're four months in and still don't have a place for everything.
7. The perfect gift. We got about 60 of them for our wedding and are still using them up. Want to hear? It was amazing.
8. Labeling. . . I didn't have opinions on it but that all changed at work. I'm talking literal labeling. . . not the people kind.
9. Got a new job. Same company, different title. And it's F-U-N. Want to hear how cool?
10. Last but not least. . . let's talk Reality. My love for reality TV is abundantly clear given past posts but is most certainly time to revisit. We'll talk AI, The Hills, Last Comic Standing, The City and even what could be considered trash central - You're Cut Off.
    

Ok, that does it folks. At least you can see that I've been thinking a lot about this and prepping for some pretty good story telling. I'm stoked to be back writing again. For those of you who follow- I'm sorry for my absence. For those of you who occasionally visit, I'm sorry for my absence. We have some major catching up to do.