Playing with Fire.

Hello world, it's been awhile.  Everything is pretty status quo, so not much was missed.

Jokes. A few things happened. Like I adopted two guinea pigs and I had the best party ever so far.

Anyway, I think it's time to discuss the hazards of fire and judging others.

Others being me.

Others sometimes don't like to do the dishes. Or get out of bed before nine. And they may not be entirely logically sound.

And then there are other others (not me) that like to clean everything all the time. And like to do before nine more than the original others (me again) do in their entire day. It is an other other that caused me to hide my dirty dishes in my relatively unused oven before they visited my apartment at 8:30 am. Which is before nine.

Now let us journey into the future. A frozen pizza is purchased. Red Baron, as it were. The king of frozen pizza.

Some days later AJ announces he is coming home for lunch and pizza sounds good.

So, being the darling and sweet wife that I am, I preheat the oven. And then putter around our apartment doing things that I do. Time and logic have recently abandoned me due to a series of events that may be discussed in the future. So at an unknown time later I smell smoke.

I mosey into the kitchen to discover that thick black smoke is pouring out of my oven. Confused, I open the oven door and am unreasonably surprised to find my dishes. On fire. Not little baby flames, but actual flames.

I contemplate calling 911, but I envision the embarrassment of having to explain my conniving, so much more embarrassing than burning down our entire apartment complex (especially considering that one of our neighbors actually lives in her apartment because she is waiting for her house to be rebuilt because it burned down in a wildfire). So much less embarrassing. Obviously.

So I called AJ instead.

And he laughed at me. Actually laughed.

Luckily for my little panic attack prone heart he had just pulled into our apartment complex parking lot. So he put out the fire. And everything was okay again. Except for the handles on some of my knives. Sadly, they were beyond repair.

The point of all this is to say that one, I am incredibly lazy and two, judging is bad. Stop it. Also, welcome back.


*note* Yes, I noticed the multiple changes from present to past tense and so forth. Yes, I realize how annoying that is. Please see point #1.

Riddle me this, Batman:

Why am I so meticulously neat whist at school and so horrendously messy whist at home?

Meticulous and horrendous being relative to me, of course.

Home is where the heart is.

Literally. The heart is over Pocatello.

I love Idaho. Which is common knowledge at this point, really. So this lovely piece has been my heart's desire for a long, long time. My darling sister, Melissa, who quite possibly loves Idaho as much as I do, gave it to me for my birthday. (It was ordered specially on Etsy, so it didn't actually arrive until today, blessed of all days.) This an unimaginable act of love. I do not know that I would have been able to part with such a gem had I been in her position.

I love Idaho. I think I'll die if I ever have to leave.

Crazy on you.

Sometimes Sarah likes to pretend to be asleep. So today when Melissa and I pick her up from school she gets in the car and we go through the routine a couple times.

Me: Sarah, are you sleeping?
Sarah: Giggle, yes...giggle, giggle...
Me: Are you faking?
Sarah: No...giggle...
Me: Yes you are.
Sarah: No, you are.

Until she really does fall asleep.

Me: Are you sleeping?
...No answer
Me: (after poking her) Are you faking?
Sarah: No!
Melissa and I laugh.
Sarah: Leave me alone!
Melissa and I laugh harder.
Sarah: Stop laughing!
More laughing.
Sarah: Stop laughing! It makes me crazy!

She also likes to ask me "What are you doing here?" so I ask her right back and she always says "I live here" and I say "I live here, too". And then she just laughs at me.