(This is, by far, *the best* reason to have a blog.)
Hello 2007! You’ve got a lot to live up to.
2006, you had biting, tears and blood. You began in Clintonville and ended in Bangs. You were no 2005, but you had your moments, as indicated below:
The new year came with new responsibilities, as I had been crowned Sorority President, or rather, some other Lyndsey Johnson at OU had been. Either way, I was getting the emails, so I accepted my responsibility, organized fake charity fundraisers and handed down discipline like an old pro (WAS THAT A VISIBLE PANTY LINE ON TINA AT CHAPTER?!) Brittiny helped decode their Language.
Mid-month, I said goodbye to my old beats and Moved On Up to the west side, thankyouverymuchJackSowers. For three weeks, Seth and I trained for a marathon and a Mennonite Bible Study. At a bar in Cincinnati, Mae and I ignored the plight of a disabled.
We’re still living on Arcadia Avenue, but no one really knows what we do on the weekends. On a Sunday, in a dramatic interpretation, Seth takes a long, hard drag of an imaginary cigarette and squints his eyes a bit, barking “fucking…city council…” Everyone in the room agrees he looks nothing like us.
I spoke with Jim Tressel about Miami Trace football and Maybel celebrated her first birthday — at Chuckie Cheese! — on the first. My dad lost his job and, after a brief stint in El Paso, got a much better one. I agreed to grade more than two dozen “I am unique because … ” essays written by suburban high school seniors. A tragic number were not unique. Lin left for the dark side. We’ve not spoken since.
Finally, after a long night on the lam, I vowed to give up blogging for Lent.
(see footage: Black Monday, 1929)
After a month of reflection and religious meditation I began to Fug again. I saw my gyno in Panera with his hands wrapped around a deli sandwich. In a somewhat deflating set of meetings, a home inspector told us “I’ve seen houses in New Orleans in better shape than this one,” and also, in an official $300 report, deemed a house “borderline uninhabitable.” An online quiz revealed I am 33 percent Neo-Pagan. I got a tapeworm and had to poo in a jar.
Teter camping trip.
The one with the belly cream.
We bought our first home — in Bangs!
“I think we’ve eaten all the mint chocolate chip. Can you turn it up?”
– to my roommate Lin during Moulin Rouge.
– in response to Seth, when he asked who I’d just hung up on. (twice)
“In Cincinnati. Something about farmers and a city-wide treasure hunt.”
– explaining blisters to my mother.
“cost to move water holding tank from pit outside home into basement”
– first of several unfortunate google keyword searches
There is an image of me, curled on my side of the bed, wrapped in all the covers, refusing to speak to the man I married because the duvet cover on our ‘display bed’ doesn’t match the accent pillows in the second bedroom — ‘and probably never will.’ For undisclosed reasons, Seth does not divorce me.
There is hot, sweaty work. Weed whackers, poison ivy and lemonade breaks. Maybel had 27 ticks. The neighbors are skeptical. Grandma died and came back to life. We got a land line.
“Baby … go get that pig.”
In Bangs, Ohio, on my 24th birthday, I had bowl of soup at Ruby Tuesday’s. Seth ordered me a Peach Birthday Smoothie (emphasis added.) (also the word Birthday was added.) Sometime between Saturday and the day of our two-year wedding anniversary, I was moving buckets full of soggy ash and mud into the dumpster and was indescribably happy. Maybel came to work after the yeast infection in her paws.
We learned Guga is not dead.
I was accosted by old ladies at the dollar theater. Lowe’s closed at 6 p.m., but Teth Seter and Our Hero remained un-divorced. Maybel had a pregnancy scare. The Pig learned to root. I visited four girls who lived with me in college.
Reasons why I suck, Vol. October
In a CVS parking lot, Johnny Cash tells me that Jesus has been crucified. On a Monday, I returned to work to find the Honda idling with the doors unlocked and the radio blaring — as it had been for almost 48 hours. Later I will make my editor “nine out of ten” annoyed with me, I will receive a “four out of ten” at Paul Bunyan’s Lumberjack Competition, and a I’ll take home a “221 out of 320″ in the Dead Celebrity 5k Race in Westerville.
Jon Stewart blows into town. We’ve been texting constantly ever since. As our newspaper’s hand-picked Special Ops team, Phil and I go 0 for 7 tracking down missing Republican candidates. In Bangs, during halftime of the Michigan game, Jen and I prove a better shot than Garth. Everybody is sad about Brittany, K-Fed, Rumsfeld and Kramer.
I begin to shop regularly at the Mount Vernon Kroger. ‘Dug’ is the only one who remembers. I wake up at 4 p.m. in the parking lot of a library and realize how much I need a vacation. Seth and Maybel rise early to snag a “doorbuster” flat screen television. In a related and similarly uncharacteristic moment, angels in heaven mouth “WTF?”
Teters welcome Owen Charles, and all except Paul escape The Fever. On the last night of the year, a future FBI agent sings along with Natalie Imbrigillidaaaa, or whatever her name is, but we don’t mock him because he could easily ‘erase’ us.
*Winner — Month with worst news from professionals
**Winner — Month almost accidentally described with a Haiku.
***Note: Closet project has been struck from the record.
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