confession(s)

  • I don’t like candy very much; I used to hide it under my bed in a box.  Most of the chocolate stuff can stay, though.

Tangent: Did any one else get a bunch of this candy at Halloween?

(Sorry, it’s the only picture I could find) I preferred getting pencils or rulers to getting a handful of … whatever that is in my Trick-or-Treat bag. Yuck-y.

  • I don’t really like fireworks either. Or loud music. Or anything loud in general. I know, little miss party-pooper over here.
  • Fire makes me uncomfortable, and I go through a ridiculous amount of matches whenever I try to light something.
  • I haven’t the slightest idea how to use a lawnmower or drive a “stick” or do anything remotely handy. My fix-it, women-can-do-anything-men-can mother would be ashamed if she really knew how much I depend on Matt for basic living–so, let’s just keep that between us, okay?
  • Spiders freak me out. Bugs don’t bother me, spiders of any size give me the willies (again, my squish-spiders-with-my-bare-hands mother would be ashamed).
  • I either sleep through or completely forget most movie plots.

So, it’s the Fourth of July. While I appreciate what the holiday stands for and agree that it should be celebrated, Matt and I don’t make a big deal about it. For example:

Our first Fourth of July, we went to Idaho Falls and bought curtains that we didn’t hang for over three weeks (because we were moving).

Last Fourth of July, Matt worked on his computer and I learned Morse Code.

This Fourth of July, Matt worked on his computer and I organized a closet (we also went to a movie, but it had nothing to do with it being a holiday).

I know, we sound like really boring people. I promise we aren’t (mostly). To everyone else, the Fourth of July is the quintessential summer holiday– family, camping, swimming, eating lots of food, parades, and fireworks. To us, it means a day to ourselves to do whatever and going to bed listening to other people light fireworks.

We are grilling hamburgers tomorrow, so we aren’t totally lame.