theteet is bursting at the seams. the servers are overloaded and ready to crash.
there is another Teter in the world. we just got home from meeting New Nephew Benjamin, and he’s a cutie patootie. (that’s a technical term.)
i’m so glad that either christy or kate has provided me with a new baby to play with every 6-8 months. it’s especially nice because you can play with the babies without actually providing your own! and when the babies are crying or soiling themselves, you can hand them to someone else. you don’t have to teach them to read. it’s a win-win situation, really.
kate, you’re up to bat. christy has made two in a row now, so she’s lapped you. please get your head in the game, schulteise! err … i mean … schulteis! shooltize?
before teters, however, there were Johnsons.
if it weren’t for my parents, we may have died this weekend.
if they had not voluntarily stepped in to help us with the house, the knox county sheriff would be investigating a murder-suicide on Possum Street. not sure who would have pulled the trigger first, but we both would be with jesus now.
whilst on vacation, seth and i put in solid 12-hour days of construction time. when didn’t fight or bicker, we drank beer, we sang songs, we danced in funny suits. the way god intended. but when we both went back to work, something turned sour. we couldn’t seem to pick up a hammer without throwing it at one another. we fought about floor joists (like all couples do) and we swore like sailors an inanimate objects. poor maybel will probably never learn to love again after hearing all that.
(i don’t remember this, but seth said he found the word “shit” written on the subfloor in my handwriting-complete with an ironic smiley face scrawled in underneath it. seth acted out in a more prominent way. he used soot from the chimney to write “fuck” on the walls. it was not a holy time in our lives.)
i received a phone call on the way home from work, and Seth told me that he had piled all our belongings on the bed, and that he had begun to therapeutically throw them into the Dumpster. i’m not sure how many board games survived.
this is what happens when your bedroom is located in your living room. although it’s easier to travel to bed at night, there is, on occasion, opportunity to trip on cord to a power tool or bed frame, to stub your toe on a box of crap or fall asleep in a pile of sawdust. living conditions are not safe.
having recounted this harrowing tale to my parents, i shared that there was no hope in ever getting the house done, and that they should scatter my ashes in a finished new-build — preferably in a condo? — somewhere in the city.
two hours later, i get a call from mom, who says she and father will be down at 9 a.m. to assess the damage and to offer assistance.
they put in a solid day of work and led us out of the forest.
part of that forest included a two-story pile of trash, old insulation, debris and crappy crap crap that needed to be put in the Dumpster. in the rain, which later turned to ice.
i love my mother.
father and seth worked upstairs all day. they claim they weren’t getting drunk and watching the game whilst mother and I slished around in slushy dumpster water, but only jesus knows the truth. we did hear a lot of hammering. i imagine one of them called “hammer fight!”
those two have fun.
in other words, we have been led from the wilderness, and can live to work another day.
we owe them our lives.
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