There are several signs that you have turned into one of those kind of engaged people. The ones who are just so...engaged. Know what I'm saying?
Good. Like the girl who
secretly has to have her ring showcased somehow in every picture. Guilty. Or the girl who only talks wedding talk to everyone and drives them crazy. Guilty. And to put the juiciest cherry on top, since we're becoming one and yadda yadda all that it's only obvious that the pronoun to use is we. We do this and we do that. We buy this and we go here. Our food. Our home. Our MacBook Pro (this one worked out on Freddie's favor, huh?).
Going along with this theme, we recently bought a dining table for ourselves.
Have you ever seen a prettier unfinished strange cloud-colored dining room table? Didn't think so.
Hello, first new home project: sanding, staining, and loving this new table.
Side note: it also came with 2 leaves meaning big 'ole dinner party up in HUR! Good thing Freddie is a Master Chef and stuff.
Anyways, this project. We (Freddie) have been sanding it down, which is no easy feat since there is this paint and then stain underneath that. We (Freddie) have been working on sanding it now for almost 2 weeks. When I came into town this past weekend Frederick put me to work and we did some sanding together even though it was more fun when we (Freddie) were doing it.
Me sanding called for a lesson in sand paper. Who would have thunk it that sand paper is numbered? Goodness, I'm halfway to being a carpenter after this weekend.
The moral of this story?
How did I go from talking about being an obnoxious engaged girl, to using the pronoun we, to sanding a dining room table, to mosquitos?
I'll tell you. While sanding this bad boy outside, I noticed some 'skiters but in my I'll Be Fine This Time mentality, I didn't go put on bug spray. Or tie a dryer sheet to my shorts. Or any of the obvious things you do when you live in the South and there are bugs everywhere and you taste as delicious as I do (<<<I mean, obviously. I'm just stating the facts. The bugs have seemed to like it for the past 24 years).
My I'll Be Fine This Time mentality works out really well with sunscreen, too. Just ask my Sunburned x100 body.
I thought I had escaped. I thought that this one time in my life, being outside this time of year, that I survived with no bites. No welts. No red marks. No itchy witchies.
This is the point in the post where I would put a pic of my eaten alive legs, but since nobody want to see that crap, enjoy this picture of the homemade cannoli I ate after the mosquito incident.
Then I remember that I am the funniest person in the world. I will never be fine this one time because there will never be this one time when I don't need bug spray. Or sunscreen. Ain't ever gonna happen, Emily Caroline, so snap outta it.
I didn't realize the damage until I was wearing my ballet tights while teaching all morning and suddenly I couldn't scratch my legs. And suddenly that was a huge problem because suddenly my legs were very very itchy. Here I am 24 hours later and
24 or 10 bug bites later.
I'm sorry that I wrote that entire post about only 10 mosquito bites.
My legs just really itch.
And I look like I have the legs of a 6 year old Redneck named Emma-leigh who spends her days outdoors in the overgrown grass.