Anyway, Friday night we did some prep work. Savannah and I were going to the Taylor Swift concert the next night and she was working on a t-shirt to wear to the show. She and her cousins had been developing a plan to get themselves invited to the T-Party room. They found out that during Taylor's last tour she had some special room that some fans would get invited to where they would get to meet Taylor. This elaborate plan included homemade t-shirts, huge handmade posters, and dozens of glowing bracelets and necklaces. This strategy was a sure bet, they thought.
On our way to Stacey's house we spotted these 2 beautiful creatures walking on the side of the road. I have never seen white peacocks before. Really cool. We took that as a sign of amazing things to come.
So, we made it to the concert. My humongous blister had already begun seeping fluid before we even got there. I was a little worried about taking it out into such a crowded place, but there was no leaving it at home. I slapped the world's largest piece of gauze over it, and we soldiered on. The t-shirt line (or should I say mob) took us about 45 minutes to get through. And then we had to climb Mt. Everest to find our seats. (Third row from the top.) But, once we were settled, things went pretty smoothly. The concert was amazing. Taylor really did put on an amazing show. Very theatrical. And the 3 girls to my left, with their glowing arms and posters waving high, were very fun companions. And the 5 college boys sitting to my right included one seriously hard-core fan who belted out every single song (while his friend kept covertly video-ing him exactly what I would have done), were amusing as well.
Unfortunately, the night did not end with an invitation to the T-Party room. We weren't sure if she was still having the T-Party room, but if she did, she missed out on meeting some very devoted fans. To top off this story of disappointment, Savannah had convinced herself that there was no T-Party room on this tour and had gotten herself over the disappointment. Until yesterday when our local small town paper arrived. There was a small article in there about a local group of probably college aged guys that had been asked back to a special room to meet Taylor Swift after her concert. The outrage here was this:
1) They were boys
2) They had a handmade poster, but it was far inferior to Savannah's and her cousins.
3) They weren't wearing homemade fan t-shirts nor were they covered in glowing bracelets and necklaces.
4) They were pictured in our hometown paper instead of Savannah!
On our way to Stacey's house we spotted these 2 beautiful creatures walking on the side of the road. I have never seen white peacocks before. Really cool. We took that as a sign of amazing things to come.
So, we made it to the concert. My humongous blister had already begun seeping fluid before we even got there. I was a little worried about taking it out into such a crowded place, but there was no leaving it at home. I slapped the world's largest piece of gauze over it, and we soldiered on. The t-shirt line (or should I say mob) took us about 45 minutes to get through. And then we had to climb Mt. Everest to find our seats. (Third row from the top.) But, once we were settled, things went pretty smoothly. The concert was amazing. Taylor really did put on an amazing show. Very theatrical. And the 3 girls to my left, with their glowing arms and posters waving high, were very fun companions. And the 5 college boys sitting to my right included one seriously hard-core fan who belted out every single song (while his friend kept covertly video-ing him exactly what I would have done), were amusing as well.
Unfortunately, the night did not end with an invitation to the T-Party room. We weren't sure if she was still having the T-Party room, but if she did, she missed out on meeting some very devoted fans. To top off this story of disappointment, Savannah had convinced herself that there was no T-Party room on this tour and had gotten herself over the disappointment. Until yesterday when our local small town paper arrived. There was a small article in there about a local group of probably college aged guys that had been asked back to a special room to meet Taylor Swift after her concert. The outrage here was this:
1) They were boys
2) They had a handmade poster, but it was far inferior to Savannah's and her cousins.
3) They weren't wearing homemade fan t-shirts nor were they covered in glowing bracelets and necklaces.
So that's a big bummer.
On to Monday, Memorial Day, when I woke up with a sore throat and a general crummy feeling. I was achy and sort of feeling flu-like. Not great. So, I took some medicine and got up. This was my only real day to catch up on things around the house and I wasn't about to spend it whining on the couch. (I'd spend it whining, just not while laying on the couch.) I was starting to get a little concerned because I was still dealing with my giant bug bite blister and had read online that it could get infected with Staph, which is very dangerous, and if I started getting chills and running a fever, I'd better see a doctor QUICK.
I got up and took a shower and my blister started to drip, and drip, and drip. Gross! So, I was dabbing at it with a tissue and started to get very nauseous feeling. (I'm not very tough, if you couldn't guess.) So, after a few minutes of deflating my blister I decided I'd better go lay down before I barfed. A few minutes spent laying on the couch and I figured I'd be just fine.
Don't barf.
Don't barf.
Don't barf.
The mantra kept running through my head.
Then, Boris the great dane, must have gotten nervous about my condition which resulted in a giant great dane poop in the hallway. What calms the stomach of a very nauseous person? It's not the overpowering aroma of dog poop, that's for sure.
The rest of my day involved several surprise run ins with snakes in the yard, while trying to plant some new summer plants I had purchased. One of which is supposed to ward off mosquitoes. And if it works, I'll likely be weaving clothing out of it. And for our Memorial Day dinner, I was determined to grill out some ribs.
Where was our grill? Buried in the shed. Behind the mower, under the hose reel and wedged into place behind a tossed rake and shovel. (and likely surrounded by snakes.) So, I made Myles help me get it out.
After we cleaned it, I made my aluminum foil pan and filled it with my soaked wood chips set up the charcoal, the instant light variety, and grabbed my lighter. Surprise, surprise. The lighter is out of fluid. Rather than drive all the way into the nearest city, we opted to go down to the gas station and purchase a cigarette lighter.
Instant light charcoal doesn't instant light. Especially when there are 40 mph winds to contend with. So, with the help of my 2 kids holding up the grill lid to block my wind and the aid of the lighter fluid I was instructed not to use by the instant light charcoal bag, we managed to get a fire going. It only took about 500 tries. But, here is our glorious Memorial Day feast:
We love our baby back, baby back, baby back. We love our baby back, baby back, baby back.RIBS!!!
P.S. Don't you love my Wonder Woman glass?
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