Friday Flotsam

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF r i d y a a y.

You are never going to guess where my earrings are.

Wait. I should back up.

Remember when we went camping? Right. So, the second morning I’d put my pretty hoop earrings (the ones I wear a l l t h e t i m e) on the tent floor next to my pillow. Just like I’d done the night before. So I guess I should have said, “Both nights I put my pretty hoop earrings on the tent floor next to my pillow.”

So both nights I put my pretty hoop earrings on the tent floor next to my pillow. And the second morning when I got up to wrangle the children (said like Julie Andrews in Sound of Music) and head up to the main cleaner bathroom, Aaron got off his little sleeping pad thing and scooted over to my blow-up mattress. Noticing how close he was coming to my beloved earrings, I said to him, “Hey my earrings are right there on the tent floor next to my pillow. Watch out for them. We’re going to pee. Make me some coffee. Bye.” Just like that.

When we got BACK from peeing and brushing teeth and washing our faces, the earrings were gone. I go, “Aaron! Where are my earrings that were right there on the tent floor next to my pillow?” And he said, “Oh I put them in that flap,” and glanced over to my backpack at the foot of the tent.

“Ohhhh okay. That flap. Cool, thanks.”

I SWEAR THIS GETS GOOD DO NOT FALL ASLEEP.

So we get home from the campings. And I unpack all my ish. And I feel like putting my pretty gold earrings back in (the next day, you guys, I’m not an animal.) and they’re NOT IN THAT BACKPACK FLAP. He said he put them in the backpack flap! Or actually he said, “I put them in that flap,” – whatever that means. So I opted for different gold chunky hoop earrings for the time being. Such trying moments in life. (Yes I want to punch myself in the face, too.)

When Aaron got hoooome, I asked him again, “So you said you put my earrings in my backpack?” And he said, “No I never said that. I put them in that little bag mesh flap thing on the inside of the tent.

. . . MY EARRINGS ARE IN THE TENT.

MY EARRINGS ARE ROLLED UP AND TUCKED AWAY FOREVER IN THE SARDINE ABYSS OF THAT MONSTROUS TENT.

So here’s the conundrum:

Do we A) unpack the tent for my earrings? (huge hassle! but I save $20.)

Or B) do I just buy a new pair? (avoided the hassle! but out $20.)

Tell me what you’d do. Tell me what to do! I clearly need life guidance if I’ve bothered to completely bore you to this degree over a pair of EARRINGS.

Le sigh.

But really, unroll? Or buy a new pair?

I feel like there are varying degrees on how to choose your friends wisely.

Character, sure.

If they’re kind to others, absolutely.

Common interests yet open mindedness to fresh ways to look at life, totally.

But . . . I feel like there’s one major component to fruitful companionship that must not be overlooked. Ever.

And that is . . . how ones likes their bacon. What, I’m serious!

You start to get close to someone, “Hold on! Before we go a moment further, do you like your bacon floppy? Burnt? Or right-in-the-middle brilliantly crispy?”

And if they say “turkey bacon” just run. Just effing run.

It says a lot about someone in the way they cook/like/eat their bacon. Floppy bacon with clear-ish wobbly parts? DID YOU EVEN TRY?

Charred, burnt bacon that’s shriveled and looks like petrified lizard tongue? You should be ashamed of yourself for trusting this person!

Bacon should be right-in-the-middle crispy, thick, that magical shade between bright and dark red, and glistening with impending pleasure that’s about to unfold in thy mouth.

And if someone tries to disagree with this, well, they can talk to the hand! But just one because my other one is shoving bacon into my face.

Kansas City!

Or Overland Park, or North KC, or Olathe, or anyone ever::

Where do you order your firewood? I ordered mine from a company (that I’ve used for years now! Good wood, poor customer service.) almost two weeks ago, and when I talked to the dude on the phone yesterday he was a jerk-and-a-half face and basically said he’s got no oak. And doesn’t know when he’ll get it. So he refunded me and I’m back to square wood. I mean one.

Tell me where you order, and who you love. I ordered earlier this month, planning ahead for the fall (HI. SNOW NEXT WEEK.) and now I feel like we’ll fall to the very back of the line and basically I’m a winey baby gripe face about it. Waaaaaaah.

Who do you use?! I’ll tell them you sent me! Thank you and goodnight.

I mean good morning.

Wait.

Who wants to become extremely jealous that next Tuesday Aaron’s driving to Fayetteville to attend a Mystery Science Theater 3000 LIVE SHOW with his dad.

Like, so much jealousy happening in my heart. I’m happy for them, whatever.

Anyone out there going to see them!? Anyone out there know what I’m even talking about?

Speaking of, this made me laugh. (only me, mind you) When we were at the campings, I said to a bunch of people, “Have you guys seen RiffTrax do Birdemic: Shock and Terror?,” and my friend Brandy said, “I have no idea what any of those words were.”

No one ever does, guys.

No one.ever.does.

Weekend plans?

We’re watching Us tonight, going to a Halloween carnival tomorrow, carving pumpkins, hauling in all our outdoor plants, and I’m reading The Silent Patient over the next few days. I feel like that’s a pretty tight pre-Halloween weekend, right?

I’m also taking the gremlins to an ACTUAL BOOKSTORE today. A real-life used bookstore that smells good, feels good, is good. We’re taking their allowance money and going to lounge around for a bit looking for a few books to buy. Plus it’s right across the street from the best dumplings in town, so. There’s that.

(unroll? or buy?)