on channeling steve irwin

Freddie's been all about doing outdoorsy things lately. Let's go camping, Emily! No. Let's go camping, Emily! Will I be able to sleep in a bed and not see bugs? No. Let's go camping, Emily! No. And then I realized that in order to have Freddie continue to do all the cooking for the rest of our lives, that I probably needed to find some sort of compromise on the issue of outside things. 

So. Enter hiking. 

We've gone hiking the past two weekends, and I know what you're thinking: hiking in Texas sounds like an oxymoron and/or a lie. Ohhh, you went hiking? Along the flat lands of nothingness? But I promise we've gone hiking walking through some kind of woodland areas. They exist, and it's been fun. For real!

We forget the bug spray and have to find bug spray. We forget the sunscreen and pretend like we are immune to skin cancer. We forget water and stand drinking the water fountain water for 5 minutes each. See? Fun!

Freddie found a state park he wanted to go to this past weekend, Brazos Bend State Park, so off we went. We even remembered bug spray AND sunscreen (but not water...). Now, in all of his Googling I'm sure Freddie found out about the alligator situation at Brazos Bend State Park, and I'm assuming he didn't share the alligator situation with me because...well, then our Saturday hiking fun would have been non-existent. 

I was clueless as to what was in store for my Saturday as we entered the park, as we parked the car, and as we started on the first trail. I saw one sign warning about alligators, but I mean...there were children and dogs walking these trails! So what...they see like...one alligator every five years? Yes?

WRONG. SO WRONG.

The first alligator we saw was far away and we felt super special that we found it. Emily and Freddie for the win! They spotted the only alligator to exist in Brazos Bend! High five!

So we did what any regular, enthusiastic, just-found-the-one-and-only-gator-in-Brazos-Bend-State-Park couple would do.

We merrily kept going along. 

Wait. There was another one. That must means there are two gators in the park! Good to know. 

WAIT. HOLD UP. Then we started to pass a lot of gators, sitting creepily in the water. Four, five, six, seven, and on and on until we got to one that was pretty close to the trail. 

At this point I was starting to question my life/why I was on this trail. As I was pondering such deep, life-changing things I didn't notice Freddie had stopped to take a picture of one of them. That's when IT happened. IT. No, I wasn't bitten. No, I wasn't attacked. Yes, there was one right on the trail in front of me. I froze and considered screaming and/or peeing my pants. I went to grab Freddie aaaaaaand...he wasn't there. I think I said quietly screamed something like FREDDIE WEISS, WHEN YOU LEAVE ME IS WHEN THEY ATTACK ME!!!!!!!!!!!! 

There was a freaking alligator within ten feet of my feet, and there was no way my feet were moving. Freddie got closer. Other people got closer, too. Some people took pictures. Some people silently freaked out. But all these people had something in common: they were dumb moving by it. I stood far behind trying to convince myself why I should walk past that alligator. 

If Steve Irwin could wrestle them, you can walk by one.

WHAT IF IT RUNS.

The signs stay to stay 30 feet away from alligators.

HOW CAN I STAY 30 FEET AWAY WHEN ONE IS 5 FEET AWAY ON THE TRAIL.

Okay, it didn't eat those people so I'm okay.

IT'S WAITING TO MOVE UNTIL I GET THERE. 

^^my brain during this horrific experience. 

After five minutes and ten people walking by, Freddie convinced me to go. 

AND GUESS WHO DECIDED TO FINALLY MOVE A MUSCLE??? Other than me.

Yes, the alligator that was probably going to eat me started moving once we walked by it. What even is the saying that was made up for this moment in my life. What even, alligator?! What even!

Long story short, we finished the 1.5 miles left of the alligator infested trail with lots of squeals, grabbing of Freddie's hand/arm/pant's leg, envisioning an alligator running towards us from the side, and speed walking. And definitely with no looking off the trail on my part. Must. Not. See. Alligators. Trying. To. Eat. Us. 

Then the scenery got beautiful! See?

Beautiful, beautiful, wooded area. With no alligators. But probably with coyotes. But who's looking? Not me. 

Thanks, Brazos Bend, for keeping your state park trails open even though your 400 alligators use them like they own the place. Really. It's a great thing you've got going on there. Real life Jurassic Park. 

Freddie, let's go indoor hiking at the mall next weekend. Deal?

a west nile virus tale

Sugar and spice, and everything nice, that's what little girls are made of. 

Ever heard that saying before? Of course you have. Because you too are made out of sugar and spice and everything nice.

I used to think I was made out of those things. Those were the good 'ole days. But after this weekend I found out the horrible truth...

dun dun dun

This is my new saying:

Sugar and heat, and everything mosquitoes want to eat, that's what Emily is made of. 

I've known for a long time that mosquitoes love me. And not in the this-is-a-healthy-kind-of-love relationship, but more in the obsessive-I-want-to-eat-you-alive kind of relationship.

Let me set a scene for you. It's Saturday in Charleston, SC. High 70s, sun is shining, and Freddie and Emily decide to hit up the Francis Marion National Forest for some fall time hiking. Camera? Check. Comfy clothes? Check. Plethora of soda water to prevent having to drink lowly plain water (yuck)? Check. Bug spray? Not check, not check, warning warning. Warning!

There are more mosquitoes than trees in this picture. Mind blown.

We lasted exactly 2 minutes on the trails. 2 whole minutes! Where's my award?
5 seconds in and I noticed 1 mosquito on my arm. No biggie! Happens every time I step outside.
30 seconds in I noticed a village of mosquitoes taking resident on Freddie's shirt.
45 seconds in and Freddie noticed they are starting to swarm me.
1 minute in and Freddie insisted we turn around. He's swatting and batting and hitting and I'm just like Sure! Whatevs, Husband! Laugh laugh, giggle, giggle. Saturday Funday, eh eh?!
1.5 minutes in and he told me they are all over my butt and back.
2 minutes in, back in the parking lot, we ran for cover (the car), locked the doors (mosquitoes can open unlocked car doors, fyi), and got the heck outta there.

And boy, did we laugh! Because I mean, being attacked by thousands of killer mosquitoes is funny. So we laughed and laughed and yadda yadda we were dumb.

I noticed an itch on my neck that night. Followed by an itch by my eye before going to bed.
Sunday morning? My face looked like a leper and my body looked the Michelin Man minus the rolls plus the bug bumps.

Throughout Sunday the official bug bite count went somewhere from 7 to 22. 22. Freaking. Mosquito. Bites. 5 of which were on my face. 7 of which were on my gluteus maximus. All of which were very unsightly and massively scratch worthy. Dear Freddie, please don't stop sleeping with me. Love, Your Bug Bitten, Redneck-Lookin' Wife. 

Freddie's official count? 1.
One.
Uno.
Single.
Solo.

Sugar and heat, and everything mosquitoes want to eat, that's what Emily is made of.
Snaps and snails, and everything to make mosquitoes bail, that's what Freddie is made of.

And that, my friends, is the story of how I picked up every weird disease in the world. The End.