New People

We're still eating Thanksgiving leftovers around these parts.  Mainly because they were so plentiful and delicious, plus they're a good excuse not to cook.  But, one thing about Thanksgiving and my family, as I'm sure is true with most, is that you never know 1- who will show up or 2- what will be said. 

My family is known for being some interesting characters, especially whenever a new person is invited into the mix.  (Another reason I was thankful that I didn't have a "plus one" at any of this year's Thanksgiving festivities.)

There's my mother's brother, who isn't afraid or embarrassed to say a thing,  regardless of who is around.  My dear, sweet grandmother is a perfect lady and will never say a bad word about a soul.  Yours truly tends to insert a 9 wide in her mouth every time it opens, as I tend to accidentally let things slip out.  That filter between my mouth and brain is broken and I'm still waiting on the replacement part. My brother is more reserved and quiet but still you can see the wheels in his head turning, then my mother is incapable of whispering whenever a situation arises. 

Such a situation arose.

We knew they were coming and I hope they don't mind me posting their picture, but most of my family met my older sister's new beau for the first time over this extended weekend.

Nice guy.

He's tall, she is too.

He's a red head, she used to be redheaded.

He has piercing blue eyes, but she got our mother's brown ones.

So far, so good. 

Don't get me wrong, he had his fair share of interrogation, although I'm sure more will come at Christmas unless we scared him away.

So here's to hoping he can make it that long.  It's always fun to have new people at family functions!

Sleeplessness

It's late.

I'm sleepy.

It's rainy.

And I'm really wondering why on earth I can't  seem to sleep tonight.

Ok, so I'm really not wondering, because there are a few different culprits responsible for tonight's battle with sleeplessness.  It could be the Mt. Dew I drank later in the afternoon as I was playing Wii MarioKart.  Or maybe my adrenaline is still pumping from that same game, as I was unable to win the gold cup on one of the races.  Could it be eating a couple of the oatmeal raisin cookies I baked last night?  Or the argument I just had with someone too far away to talk to face-to-face could be to blame instead.

Whatever the reason, even the rain hitting my window is not doing the trick to help me get some shut eye.  If someone should come across the sheep I've been counting, could you send them back to me?

Opposites

Black Friday.  I never have understood the concept I suppose.  Sure, you get great deal on big ticket items and the hottest toys of the season, but I don’t understand why someone would line up at Best Buy 24 hours before they can even buy their desired items.

My mother and older sister used to do the Black Friday scene, but now they live in different states so each usually sleep, like normal people do.  They aren’t normal, but don’t tell them. 

Anyway, one of my friends, who I’ve really known since 5^th grade, was arguing with me a while back about this.  She was talking about how great the deals are on Black Friday and how she was so excited to get her Christmas shopping all done in one day.  I mention the crowds being too big and said I’d rather be hunting, but she turned up her nose and said “that's gross.” 

I guess it’s safe to say that we are two completely different individuals.  Opposites must really attract.

Turkey Day Facts

- The last Thursday of November became a national day of Thanksgiving in 1863 when President Lincoln declared the fourth Thursday in November to be Thanksgiving Day.  It was actually meant to be a morale thing for Union soldiers during the Civil War.  It wasn’t a national holiday until 1941.

- The "Butterball Hotline" will receive over ten thousand calls today from people trying to cook their turkey.  These calls are answered by actual home economists who have at least a bachelors degree in home economics, nutrition, dietetics or another food-related field.  

- I may or may not have spilled half of the contents of an uncooked pumpkin pie on my kitchen floor this morning.   I can neither confirm nor deny my own clumsiness.

- There is actually a substance in turkey that makes you sleepy.  This explains the 30 minute nap I just took on my grandmother’s couch.

- Pardoning the turkey began with Harry Truman in 1947, but some say it began with Lincoln when he pardoned his son’s pet turkey.

- The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade began in 1927 and was first called the Macy’s Christmas Parade.  It has changed routes, but it always ends with Santa.

- An estimated 40 million people will travel more than 50 miles to reach their thanksgiving destination.  Personally, I traveled half of a mile. 

- Benjamin Franklin thought the national bird should be a turkey, coincidentally, this was also the first animal domesticated in the US.

- Everyone’s family has that one person who you never want to introduce to new people.  This relative almost always says something memorable at Thanksgiving.  I’m afraid I’m this relative in my family

- Indians didn’t eat cranberries.  You can gasp now.

Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving!

It's a smile

I'm sure there's plenty I should be doing now.

Like cleaning my bathroom for guests who will be staying with me this weekend.

Or I could get a head start on things I need to do for work for the next week.

Maybe I should begin my list of what to get my loved ones for Christmas.

Wait, I've got it!  I should go to the store and immediately buy up all the pie crusts just to watch last-minute shoppers bustle about in a panic!

Or I could rummage thorough old photographs and post the ones that make me smile and post them on the internet.

"It's not you, it's me."

Raise your hand if you’ve ever heard those dreaded words as a relationship crumbled around you.  Raising my hand.  Ok, now raise your hand if you’ve ever believed those lines when they were uttered from the lips of your object of affection. 

*crickets chirping*

Ok, good.  I’m glad I’m not the only one.  Personally, those words have become a given in the majority of my encounters.  I’ve heard them so many times that a part of me really did believe for a while that something was wrong with me that caused the opposite sex to run for the hills whenever feelings began to creep closer and closer to the heart. 

But I've now learned that it’s not always the case.  Sometimes, and in my experience just one time, it was the truth. 

Although I didn’t have a very lengthy and drawn out relationship with the subject in question, for some reason beyond my control I fell completely head over heels for him in a short amount of time.  He was the first of the two guys who gave me those pitter patters.  It was a feeling I’d never known and a part of me did wonder if it could have turned into that dreaded L-word.   

I was his.  Completely.  Entirely.  Without question.

Our relationship was never centered around the physical aspect that all of our friends’ relationships did, but rather focused more on hanging out and having fun together.  We’d to weird stuff like go to the shooting range then head back to his house where we’d clean guns and watch football.  Don’t get me wrong, there were nights spent cuddled up watching movies, too, but I didn't care if the physical stuff happened or not -mainly I just needed to be next to him to chase that intoxicating high. 

Then, as soon as it seemed to start – it ended.  Out of the blue and all of the sudden on a Wednesday afternoon over the phone, my world that finally seemed to be coming together slipped right through my fingers.  I still hear his voice beginning to break and it moved me as I tried my best to swallow the lump in my throat.

“Rach, I can’t believe I’m saying this to you.  All of my life girls have told me this and I swore I'd never tell someone this,but I just want to be friends.  It’s not you, it’s me.”

As my jaw began to quiver, I knew the coming tears were inevitable. 

For the next year I would be hung up on him still, always going over details wondering what I could have done differently, and then maybe he would’ve stayed.  After the breakup he would speak to me and call just to ask how I was doing, just like a real friend does, but I wasn’t ready to be that.  I needed time and space.

Recently (and by “recently” I mean today), I learned something about him that I never would have suspected in a million years.  While this news came as a complete shock to me, a part of me sighed with relief as I looked back on the entire situation:  It really was him and not me. 

It  has now been two years since that night I laid sobbing on my bed, asking God why he was gone after I was so, so sure he was the person I'd spend my piece of forever with.  Looking back, I suppose it all makes sense.  Now I can only wish him the best in all he does and let him know that if he ever needs a friend to clean guns and watch football with, I’m his gal. 

Talking in Code

Every since I can remember, my friends and I have given guys we were interested in code names.  It's how we refer to them in conversation with one another and heck, it's how we talk about them when we're standing five feet away, too.

Sometimes these names mirrored their physical attributes, they could deal with his occupation and other times it could be the guy's physical location. Then there are the code names about his vehicle or how we met and maybe even music that he likes.

Needless to say, my friends and I have given a lot of guys alternate names.  But the hard part about code names was making sure the subjects never found out.  To my random friends and I, this came pretty easy since we were off the wall about everything. 

I believe it started in elementary school with my first real crush - he was a 2nd grader and my little first grade freckled self was just as smitten with him as it knew how to be.  Due to the fact that it was 1992, we called him Aladdin.

Then in sixth grade a friend of mine asked me to dance at one of those silly middle school dances during one of those awkward Backstreet Boys or N'Sync slow songs.  Porky was the tallest boy my age and for some reason, he felt compelled to kiss me on the cheek.

Two years later another a dark haired boy caught my eye in science; we named him Chocolate because he had the prettiest dark brown eyes.

During my jock stage in high school there was a baseball player who was really quite shy and in several of my classes.  If memory serves me correctly, he became known as simply Baseball.  I know, we're so original.

Still in the jock stage of high school, a few football players caught my attention and never even knew I existed except when they needed help with Chemistry.  Hilldo, Dinosaur and FFA were all friends and all, very much, the objects of my affection for varying lengths of time.

Right around high school graduation, I began to date the only guy I don't remember giving a nickname to - Joe.  A couple years later there was a string of various dead ends and heartbreaks that takes me right up to today, some being brief lapses in judgment and a couple completely destroying me.  There was DH, Cart Pusher, FF, Britches, Army, Two Pump, Lox, Pooh, Mazda, McCreeper, Mustache Man, LT, Jose, BD and String Along, just to name a few.

Oddly enough, I still talk to a few of them, which is actually what prompted today's post. I ran into one of my high school jocks, Dinosaur, at a local business in Mayberry the other day.  He still had no real idea I ever existed outside of Calculus but nonetheless he greeted me when I quietly said "good afternoon" to him.

It's hard to believe that he's the one I stayed so hung up on in high school, always being jealous of any girl who boasted dating him and always wishing, hoping and praying that it would be me one day.  As he walked out the door and to his truck, a Garth Brooks song came to my mind and I had to thank God for unanswered prayers.

Well, unanswered prayers and an active imagination.  Sometimes these code names don't come so easily.

The Bag

Wednesdays are always long days.  Once I get off work at 5, it’s time to head to church for three hours of children’s choir, Bible study and practicing for the praise band. 

Last night was no different.  When I made it back home, it was already quarter till nine.  Walking in the door,  I was tired, hungry, and very ready to get my uncomfortable, yet completely cute shoes off of my feet.  All these things left my mind straight away when I saw this sitting in a chair at the kitchen table.

I got excited.  Like a kid at Christmas.  I couldn’t make full sentences.  John Deere has that affect on me.  See?  Ohhh boy!   Immediately, I knew where the bag came from and who had bought its contents since my younger sister works at the local store.  Now…. What’s in there?

Without thinking, I drop my purse, hand off my computer bag to my kid sis and make a bee-line for the chair.  But she was already five thoughts ahead of me.  

“Don’t!” she screamed.

“What?”

“I know what you’re trying to do and you CAN’T look in that bag!”

My eyes welled up as I felt the lump in my throat form (Ok, that might be just for added dramatic effect).

“But… but…  I wanna see it.”  I tried my best to whimper, but to no avail.

“No, you can’t.  You’ll have to wait until Christmas.”

“That’s cruel.”

So now I’m stuck staring at a bag I’m not supposed to see.  Does my sister take this bag upstairs to hide in her closet?  No.  Does she go lock it up in her car’s trunk?  No.  Does she do anything with it at all?  How’d you guess?

It’s still sitting right where I found it – at the kitchen table.

The bag is taunting me.  Last night before I retired to bed I swear it looked me straight in the eyes and said “Nana, nana, boo, boo” with a shrill voice.  This morning while I was toasting a bagel it took a rude tone with me as we both sat motionless eating breakfast.  I saw the mockery in its eyes and felt its cold stare as I looked away, trying my best to not peek at its contents. 

This bag is rude. 

This bag is inconsiderate.

This bag is going to slowly kill me for the next month and a half. 

I think I’ll edit the picture of this bag until I feel better.

Fashionista

For the most part I'm not a very fashionable person.  At all.

On more than one occasion I've received a phone call while shopping.  My older sister's voice on the other line would greet me with the usual "hellos" and "what's going on" before finally asking that question that always came next: "What are you doing?"

It got to the point where I'd try my best to avert the question (since by nature I'm a horrible liar) by suddenly bringing up her job or a song or perhaps a funny joke I thought might tickle her fancy.  However, she would always, always see right through me and ask again, in a lowered tone,  where I was.


"Rach Dach, where... are.... you?"

"Ummm, shopping."

"Shopping for what?"

"Ummmm... welll.... Macy's is having a great sale."

[lowered tone] "Rachel, put whatever is in your hand down and step away from the mannequin."

"But it's really cute and marked down to 70 percent off."

"It could be very cute.  Send me a picture before. You.  Buy.  Anything.  Okay?"

"Yes ma'am."


And that is how those conversations would go.  As soon as my big sis discovered that I was attempting to buy something cute or stylish, in an attempt to be dress more like her or any of my other girlfriends, she ripped my independence from me with a stern voice and a quick command to stop immediately what I was doing.

To be honest, she was doing this in my best interest.  After all, I've made some very questionable fashion decisions in my day.  I like to think of it as "dressing for comfort" but the world sees it as "Oh my goodness, what is she wearing and who let her leave the house like that?" 

That is why I'm not allowed to shop alone.

On a side note, thanks to my two sisters' fashion sense, I looked very cute today in a royal blue cable knit sweater, wide leg khakis and the most adorable pointed toe brown boots with a 3 3/4 inch heel.  Oh wow, I just sounded like a fashionable chick.

Anyway, in a completely unexpected move, I did something today that I've seen on other women but silently shunned because I thought it was some stupid fad.  But tonight I had to go to Wal-Mart for a couple things and stumbled upon the nail polish aisle.

To make a long story short:

I took the plunge to the dark side.  Ok, the dark nail polish side, that is.

My older sister has no knowledge of this and I have a feeling that if she finds out, a bottle of nail polish remover will be FedExed to me immediately.

Indian Summer

Here in my neck of the woods, it was a very, very dry summer.  The grass turned brown quickly and the lack of water is showing through in the leaves on the trees as they change into their golden autumn hues. 

Now we’re in what the old men at the diner call an “Indian Summer.”  This can happen in October or November when the leaves have already turned and there's already been a frost, yet the temperatures are around 70 degrees.  And let me tell ya, it is horrid on allergies, sinuses and other upper respiratory conditions. 

Mayberry was in an Indian Summer for the past couple of weeks, but I'm happy to report that the highs today never made it above 55.  And why does that make me happy?  Because deer season is officially here and they don't like to run around the woods when it's 65 degrees.

This picture was taken on the hunt Saturday morning, when temperatures soared into the 60s.  Don't get me wrong, it's gorgeous - but it makes for an un-interesting morning 15 feet up in a tree.  

This picture was taken after a day of hunting when the high was about 45. 

See the difference?

High temps = no deer; Low temps = 8 point buck.

Yea, I hope this Indian Summer is about over.

Refund

I never meant to be quiet for the past couple days, it just sort of happened.

The weekend has come and gone all too quickly, and I'm quite disappointed as to how a few things turned out.

It all began Friday afternoon at work when a single text message to an acquaintance turned into a conversation that left me baffled for the remainder of the day.  Oh who am I kidding, it still has my head spinning.  Then my boys in blue had a football game Friday night in a town 2 hours from Mayberry.  That game had me going!  BGF was able to meet me at the game, which was about the only good thing that happened, considering I also managed to wreck my sister's car within the first hour of my journey to the game.


Saturday should have turned out better considering it was the first day of my beloved deer season, but going to the football game didn't get me home until 1 am.  Normally this wouldn't be a problem but waking up at 4 am to go hunting wore me down.  And I didn't get a deer.  Then to top off the day was a big family debacle that boiled down to miscommunication.  Scratch that.  It wasn't miscommunication, it was no communication at all.  A few people in my family tree have that tendency.  For future reference, always okay any holiday plans with everyone involved before you tell a couple people to drive three hours on the wrong day.

You would think today would be better, but no such luck.  My mind has been boggled all day long between my family, the football game and that text message.  And getting into a heated discussion with one of my best friends last night didn't help anything, either.

So now I shall go to sleep with hopes that tomorrow will be better.  But after a weekend like this I guess it has to be. 

Did I mention that I want a refund for this past weekend?

Remembering

11-11-10

Today is the day we honor those who have served in the armed forces of our country. 

Both of my grandfathers served in the Army back in World War II.  Of course, this was long before they really knew each other but they still fought for our country.  One grandfather was under Patton for a period of time and worked on the supply trucks while the other was stationed in England and Ireland with the Army 8th Air Forces. 

What I'm trying to say, is that if you're a veteran or currently serving in the United States military, I'd like to thank you for all you did and continue to do for our country.  Thank you for answering the call and thank you for serving! 

Wednesday

Hump day. 

Technically it started at midnight.  Where was I at midnight?  Not in the Mayberry city limits. *cue dramatic music*  Actually, I was out later than usual last night, and by "later than usual" I mean the truck lights hit my driveway at 2:15 this morning (when my alarm goes offa t 6:30).  Yea, that late.  Please hold your scornful remarks until I'm done talking.  Thank you. 

Ok, where was I?  Oh yea, so here goes Wednesday in a nutshell....

Did you really see that one coming?

After nearly falling out of my chair this morning at work, I figured it was best to pick up a big Red Bull at the store across the street on my lunch break.  And I'm happy to report, that thanks to this beverage and it's affect on my nervous system, all of my to-do list was completed as required and I was able to go home a happy girl with a little bit less to stress over.

Mexican Food, Ice Cream, MarioKart

I'm happy to report that the world's mouse population is down by one.  I'd attach a photo, but some people might get grossed out seeing a dead mouse on their computer screen.


On an unrelated note, I played Wii last night. 

It was quite entertaining, seeing as how I was on cold medicine and getting quite loopy.  My little sister challenged me to a re-match on MarioKart after she and another friend of mine slaughtered me Saturday night. 

Saturday night was ugly.  I lost.  I sulked.  I was not happy.

You see, I'm a competitive person and losing (in any capacity, whether it be a board game or the Super Bowl) has never set well with me.  Thankfully, I was unable to snap pictures, since I was too busy coming in last in every single race. 

Here's how it went down:  My best good friend, my sister, my mother and I decided to go out for Mexican Saturday night. This was all good and great, except yours truly was getting all jacked up on Mt. Dew, my sister was having a little too much fun with her queso and chips, my BGF was being his silly self cracking jokes that had people at neighboring tables and our waiter laughing and my poor mother was laughing in between bites of her fajita. Our waiter was taking his dear sweet time getting our check, maybe because he didn't want us to leave?  Seriously, my BGF is that funny.  It's perfectly possible. 

So an hour and a half after walking in the door, we were finally stuffed full of food, laughter and memories.  As my mother and sister were getting the bill, BGF and I were headed to a local establishment to get everyone some ice cream, even though that was the last thing I needed after my chicken chimichanga and Mt. Dew supper.  Oh boy, was that GOOD! 

BGF and I were in the drive through and still laughing about a joke from dinner.  Those poor ice cream girls had to think we were nuts.  And what made it funnier - Mayberry is a small town and the girls making our sweet treats didn't think we were so crazy that they couldn't ask us how to make one of our ice cream concoctions because they didn't know what its ingredients were.  Then BGF and I were absolutely rolling in his truck.  As we pulled off he says "Did they just seriously ask YOU what went in that?"  The truck cab overflowed with laughter as we pulled onto the street.

Once back at my humble abode, after everyone devoured their given ice cream treats and laughed some more about various events of the previous two hours, my sister openly challenged BGF and I to a game of MarioKart on the Wii.  Considering myself a MarioKart expert (I have the Nintendo-64 and have it mastered) I gladly accepted her challenge.

That was my first mistake. 

My second mistake was not realizing the skill level of my two opponents.  Even telling you about this brings back the frightful events of the night.  The screaming at the television, the colors flashing on the screen as it told me I came in 12th (out of 12), the look on my sister's face as she knew she had me right where she wanted me.   

Back to last night - I was all giggly from that medicine and she thought she could pull a fast one on me again. 

I won. She lost.  The end. 

Maybe I should take cold medicine more often.

Passenger Seat

Driving is my therapy.

There's something about the wheel in my hands and my foot on the gas that clears my mind.  Whether it be asphalt, gravel or dirt, as long as the radio is on and the tank is full things are in good shape.  It's safe to say I like to drive whenever I go somewhere.  If a group of friends ever want to go to the city to bowl or catch a movie, I'm generally the first one to say "get in the truck and let's go." 

The driver's seat is my friend, whether its a four wheel drive truck or a turbocharged V-8 made for the sole purpose of giving those foreign sports cars a run for their money. 

Yesterday I had the opportunity to spend a few hours riding around various backroads and byways in and around Mayberry.  Yes, I said riding.  I actually sat.. in the... passenger seat.  As in, I was not in complete control of the vehicle.

It should have been nerve-wracking, but strangely enough I didn't mind too much. 

 

I got to snap some pictures of the beautiful surroundings of Mayberry.

And some of the flowers my niece picked for me.

Come to think of it, it was oddly relaxing to be in the passenger seat.  There were no worries of speeding tickets, maneuvering around potholes, taking a wrong turn down the second gravel road on the right, running over snakes or hitting the stray cow in the road.  There were, however, worries of my driver losing control of the vehicle, but....

I must have really trusted him to not lose control of the truck.

I smell a rat

Let's really, really hope I'm mistaken, but there is some kind of nocturnal rodent meandering around my office at work.  We had this same problem around this time last year, when my coworkers and I would find their "left-behinds" on our desks. So, we did what anyone would do and set up traps to catch these little guys.

But what do you put on mouse traps to lure in the mice?  Aren't you supposed to put cheese or something?  Then my favorite co-worker, also known as the office manager, suggested we use peanut butter and put tape over it so the mouse will have to work harder to snap the trap.  Well, the idea was pretty great, so we did just as it was suggested.

Three mouse traps from a four-trap package had peanut butter and tape.  With one mouse trap left, we grew experimental of what to put on it.  As it turns out, I had brought a red velvet cake to work and decided to find out how the mice felt about my "mystery icing."  With a peanut butter mouse trap on my desk, the office managers desk and the lobby (where we found remnants of their presence) we left the last mouse trap, the one with the icing, on a table in the back room.  We hadn't seen a mouse back there, but what the heck - it's worth a shot, right?

With anticipation, I walked into work the next morning looking forward to the world's mouse population decreasing by at least one.  Well, a mouse did die, but when I learned which trap it was, I was shocked.  None of the peanut butter traps caught a mouse, but you could tell some of the PB was gone.  Those sneaky little creatures!  But it was my mystery icing trap, in the room where we'd never seen any signs of a mouse, that did the trick.



Now here we are a year later....

This Reese Cup was left on my office manager's desk last night.

I think we can now safely say that mice have a sweet tooth. 

Looks like I can skip whipping up the icing and just put Reese Cups on the mouse traps.  Or maybe the culprit was driven into a diabetic coma after cosuming the chocolaty deliciousness that is a Reese Cup.  That'll teach 'em! The dirty, rotten Yankee!

And I guess by now you can guess which statement yesterday was 100% true.  I am incapable of leaving a unopened Reese Cup on my desk overnight like my lovely comrade can.

True Story

Here are some scenarios of the day.

Only one is 100% true.

You decide which it is:


- In my driveway this morning was a new John Deere zero turn mower.

- My collegiate alma mater is having a winning football season.

- The UPS man laughed at my FedEx joke.

- There's a Reese Cup wrapper laying on my desk at work. 

- Mayberry is preparing for the annual "Barney Fife Shooting Competition."


So, take your pick.  I might reveal the answer later, but then again I might just leave you wondering.

Pinching Pennies

For the most part, I'm a pretty routine person.  On most days, I go to work at the same time, grab a drink at the same store before work, eat lunch at the same place, and park in the same spot.

This morning was like any other Wednesday morning, but when I stopped at the gas station for my daily dose of caffeinated goodness, the clerk asked me if I wanted my change, which was "just two pennies."

Did she really just ask me that?  Um... yes, I'd like my change back.

All two pennies of it.

"Just two pennies."  Really?  I have a old whiskey bottle in my bedroom where all of those little buggers go and I'd like to have that thing filled up by next Christmas so I can finally figure out how much it takes to fill the bottle. How can I ever find out if I don't get my pennies back every day?  To me, a penny is a penny and 100 is a dollar - they really do add up.

If you feel differently, feel free to send me all your unwanted pennies and I'll give them a nice home where they can relax and socialize with their kin.

Election Day

In the fourth grade I learned how to spell democracy for a weekly spelling test. 

With that being said, the first Tuesday in November is here, and almost gone.  Personally, I've always taken great pride in heading to the polls to voice my opinion for who I think would best serve in public office.  Yes, serve.

As a young child, I remember going into the polling location with my dad when he'd vote and explain to me the importance of voting and why it was vital for the right people to be in those offices.  Holding a public office meant being a public servant.  You do what's best for the people who elected you.  At least, that's how it's supposed to go, but you and I both know it isn't that easy and some public officials don't act the way they should.

I recently found out that one of my best friends isn't registered to vote, and this made my stomach go crazy.  How?  Why?  He believes no matter what he does, whoever is in office is only try to benefit themselves and nothing anyone else says will matter.  Yes, I believe this is true in some instances, but let's go to the polls and try to get the right candidate in there, ok?

I could argue the importance of voting till I'm blue in the face, but right now I'm tired and have things to do for the local elections in Mayberry.  Please, please, please, if you aren't registered to vote, go to your clerks office and register to vote for the next election.  That is all.

Jason

What a weekend!

After staying constantly busy for the past couple days, I finally get a chance to stop and breathe.

Halloween weekend went well, with tons of things to keep this girl busy in Mayberry.

Friday night was occupied by high school football, and my boys in blue came out on top after an emotional senior night program before kick-off.  Even in the press box temperatures dipped while I watched the crowd bundle up then finally dwindle as the night went on. 

After work on Saturday was some fun time, as my brother and I sighted in our guns for the upcoming deer season.

My little sis tagged along and even shot one of the revolvers for the first time.

Then it was time to head to an area Halloween destination: Trembling Timbers, a haunted woods with a story line that changes each year.  Put together by a small area church, the Timbers was started as a way to pay for the church's fellowship hall they constructed on their property.  You see, the church is on an old county highway and it sits, literally, in the middle of a cornfield with a wooded area behind it.  One of the families in the congregation owns the surrounding land, and decided to start this haunted woods as a fundraiser, but the event gained so much attention, they kept going even after the building was paid for.

It begins with a group of about 10 or so people riding on a trailer of hay up into one field and through a treeline to get to the entrance of the haunted woods.  Then, everyone gets off the trailer and begins the journey on foot.  There's a cabin to walk trough with volunteers hiding out, waiting to scare the bejezus outta ya, then a graveyard (where they always pick one name from the group and say that person will be buried there. I'm so lucky, the past two years they've called my name), after that is a big slide, followed by a walk through a tunnel just to name a few things.

Once you're almost to the end comes one of my favorite parts.... the maze!  I never find my way through the first time, but the guy in the Jason mask waving a chainsaw just adds this level of fear.  Or maybe I'm high on the chainsaw fumes.  Unlike years past, this year's Jason wasn't one of my old classmates like it usually was.  This Jason was taller.  He had broader shoulders and a more grovely voice, too.  It was very familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on who exactly it was.  At the beginning of the maze, people were standing still causing a traffic jam of sorts.  Jason is just revving up his chainsaw and then he cuts it off.  My questioning eyes turn to him and I ask why he turned it off because I love the smell o the exhaust (yea, that does explain a lot).  We continue through the maze and I thought I'd never see Jason again.

After safely making it through the maze with only a couple hold backs, my group and I were back on the path.  Then, all of the sudden, I hear a chainsaw rev up behind me and I scream.  Screamed.  Like a girl.  There he was, Jason.  Inhaling the fumes of gasoline and 2-cycle oil, I raise my hand to give this guy a high five and said "thank you" for him turning it back on.  But, he declines my hand and instead says these words: "You can just make me some oatmeal raisin cookies, instead."

Omigosh!  Whoever this man was I couldn't place sure did know who I was!

Thankfully, there is only one place in town I regularly take oatmeal raisin cookies besides my place of work - the guys at my kid sister's job love (I hope) when they see walk in with a Tupperware container because they know that means something good is inside.  So, I narrowed down who Jason was and now plan to take him some cookies soon.


In other weekend festivities, my church had a Trunk-N-Treat on Halloween afternoon for all the kiddos in the area.

This was taken towards the end of the festivities, as I was particularly busy passing out candy to 450 ghosts and goblins.

And wouldn't you know it, while I saw four kids dressed as Luigi, over ten as Spiderman or Spiderwoman and countless vampires and princesses, not one of those little kids dressed up like Jason with a chainsaw

Oh the disappointment.