Our's was good...

It's time for some pictures.  And for the record, I think I'm funny.

 Hope your's was just as good!

I've Been Enabled!

Last Sunday we played games at Tawnya and Isaac's house.  It's always so fun.  It's always filled with good company, good food, and a plethora of sarcasm.  I can't be a hundred percent sure, but I'm pretty darn sure that a good chunk of that sarcasm actually came out of my mouth and was directed towards my husband.  (Dun dun dun dun...)  And because I felt so free, it did allow others to jump on the proverbial band wagon and lend a helping hand.

Now before the "sarcasm is evil and can lead to no good" alerts go off and I'm condemned by everyone as a mean wife, it's high time we got a few things straight.

First.  I absolutely adore my husband!  Adore!  I practically worship the ground he walks on!  And there are several reason for this which we won't get into here because I simply don't have the time to list them all because it would be a long list which may or may not involve the fact that he cleans the bathrooms and he laughs at my jokes.

Second.  Not all sarcasm is bad.  In fact, perhaps my sarcasm isn't really sarcasm by Webster's definition.  It's more like playfully teasing.  And in this particular game night case it would have practically been a crime not to say something.  A crime.  Did you ever see that episode of Friends where Chandler makes a New Year's resolution to not be sarcastic and he almost explodes?  Yeah, that might be me.

Anyway, there is a point.  David informed me this morning that a member of the game night party felt the need to clear the air and make sure that the teasing that was done didn't make him feel bad which led us to discuss the situation.

L: did you feel bad
D: No.
L: Good, I didn't think so

There, that clears it up right!  Okay, there was more.  As we explored the ins and outs of our relationship we came to find that we pretty much both enable the teasing.  In fact, we feed off of each other to the point of ridiculousness. And like grade schoolers, we tease the one's we love right.  It was also decided that if this was the only means of communication between us, then there would be a problem.  A pretty big one in fact.  As it stands we talk to each other a lot.  We express our love to each other a lot.  I mean a. lot.  I don't think that we could survive the blessings and trials without holding on to each other for dear life.

Now, because we can't be too gushy and mushy and all around sickeningly sweet (mostly because my constitution can't handle it, even typing that sentence made me shudder a little... or a lot) we have different ways of expressing our love and it works for us.  In fact it works quite well.  We laugh with each other, sometimes at each other, but mostly with each other.

So, we enable each other to act as crazy and silly and sarcastic as we do.  And although it may look dangerous from the outside, don't worry, we're on top of it.  We still hold hands at church, we still snuggle up together at night.  And David, even though that Queen of Diamonds you just threw away would have won us the game... I still love you.

Tough Choices

Saturday was filled with choices.  Unexpected choices.  And one really tough one.

You see, I am one of those people who are riddled with guilt when choosing between duty and self.  Whether it's duty to an employer, duty to church, duty to friends, duty to strangers on the street.  Whenever I choose something for myself, even though it is clearly the best thing, I am riddled with guilt about who I might be letting down.

It's the worst at work.  I have on occasion run myself into the ground before realizing "Hey!  You might want to start taking care of our own well-being sister!"  And then I back off, take a little time for myself, and get my life back in order.  Unfortunately these things are also accompanied by guilt guilt and more guilt for at least half of the day off being taken.  Long vacations are the worst.  If we are gone for 5 days I finally start to really relax on day 3.5.  It's really obnoxious, just ask my husband.

Which brings us to Saturday.  It was our ward Christmas party.  We had missed the last two weeks of church and had missed the announcement and I had made tentative but un-voiced plans for David and I.  I wanted to go to A Midsummer Night's Dream at the Morgan Theatre on campus.  My friend's son was in it and all reports were good and it was the last night it was showing.  I wanted a date night.  (It's amazing how even though it's just us, we rarely make time for dates... pathetic huh.)  Anyway, my automatic response at finding out about the Christmas party was "well, guess we won't be going to the play after all."  But I was a little, okay a lot, frustrated with that choice.  Like my plans didn't count because I had this duty.   

In fact I was so frustrated that I was completely ornery for a good portion of the day.  Finally I talked to David about it.  We went to dinner and the play, and had a wonderful time.  We laughed so much at parts of the play that my stomach hurt and I was crying.  Hilarious!  So good for the soul.  But I did have to ask David at least three times whether this was really okay. In fact 3 times during dinner alone my guilt was brought into play.  Do you know what he finally said?  "You need to be here with me more than they need you at the ward Christmas party."  And you know what, he was right!

That's why my husband is awesome.  So good and putting things in perspective.  Sad I missed the party, but oh so glad for date night with David and a night on the town. So glad to make decisions instead of letting everyone and everything else make them for me.

The moral of the story you ask?

Stand up and take control!  Act rather than be acted upon!  Don't let guilt rule your life! 

Or at least keep it to a minimum cause let's face it, old habits die hard.

May this coming weekend be guilt free for you all!

A little of this

Lora: I'm sorry I'm such a snot and a brat but your' stuck with me.

David:  Well snot is sticky.

Lora:  I am the booger on your shirt of life.

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