One More Thing...

And just because I'm procrastinating on all the things I have to do today that don't involve shopping (I got all that done before 10am), I have to put this story on here because I find my dearest SO to be hilarious. Even though he drives me kinda nuts sometimes.

So, Joel is outdoorsman, handyman, and all around hard worker. This results in every piece of his clothing being ripped and stained and somehow tainting everything in the laundry with the smell of gasoline. He has more clothes than any fashionable semi-hoarder woman, and I don't help because I'm always trying to buy him "something nice to wear" just in case.

Several months back, we were in Nashville, and it was super hot and he needed shorts (in general, but especially that day). So he dropped me off at the mall, and I rationalized buying him a $60 pair of shorts because I could use my $20 off coupon and purchase several things for myself making the extreme price completely justified.

The very next time he wore said $60 shorts, he unexpectedly had to go to the farm and work. I showed up to the farm later that night only to find these ridiculously expense shorts covered in dirt and various crap that will definitely not wash out. (I think he said some of it was battery grease or something like that that I didn't even know existed.) Minutes after making a huge deal about him getting his brand new shorts all stained up, I notice he has ripped the entire back of the shorts out! So even if I could dry clean the stains out, he can never wear them again because the shorts are suddenly ass-less. Although I b*tched about this for a while and still bring it up randomly, I did get over it.

Not even kidding.

On my trip to Evansville, though, I found an amazing pair of white Express pants for like $25. We have a wedding to go to in a couple of weeks, and I thought those white pants would be perfect for him to wear. When I was showing him all the fruits of my shopping labor, I held the pants up and said slowly and firmly, "These. Are. White. Pants. Do. Not. Under. Any. Circumstances. Wear. Them. To. The. FARM."

Him: Baby, c'mon. Why would I do something like that?

Me: I know I said I wouldn't bring it up again, but remember the pair of shorts I bought you that you RUINED at the farm???

Him: That's totally different. Those were already dirt-colored.

There you have it, folks. That's exactly how his mind works. And I couldn't even get mad about it, because I was laughing too hard. He is hilarious. And a mess.

She's Got a Ticket to Ride

So, so familiar

Confession: I have more speeding tickets than I care to speak of. (I, however, will.) I have more speeding tickets than you. And I have more speeding tickets than I should probably be joking about. I added to my long list of offenses yesterday en route to work.

I have already mentioned that I had a hugely busy day of work yesterday, and add to that the fact that I had a brand new set of clothes to choose from whilst getting ready for work. (This has been a common theme for me lately. Being late because of outfit choices. I am forever searching for something that fits to wear to work. Note to self: stop buying swim suits. You cannot wear those to work.) So I get on the road five minutes late and have to stop and get gas (again, a common theme in my life). I decide I can make up a little bit of time on the road and commence with my usual ignoring of the speed limit. A mere ten minutes on the road, and a sweet little state trouper is informing me that not only was I speeding, but also that I was going 77 in a 55. And, please note, that I have some cases of adult beverage in my back seat for the lake trip. Awesome. He was sweet enough to write me a ticket for 68 in a 55, so as not to have to haul my ass to jail. Thank you, Officer Hawk Eye.

So, here's my history of speeding tickets. I hear about people "getting out" of them all the time, but I simply never acquired that skill. (I'm shocked too. I'm a hot, young thang and can usually talk myself into or out of anything.) The first ticket I ever received was when I was returning to Lexington after my first visit home from college. My roomies in tow, I figured we'd see just how quickly we could make it back. When the officer stopped me to give me a ticket, I remained stoic and never looked him in the eye (I can't explain that), and then the second he drove away, I burst into tears and refuse to speak for the next three hours. And, my theory is, that since I blew my first shot at "getting out" of it, I will never, ever be able to do that. But I was determined to try.

Why, thank you for pointing out how dangerous it is to speed. I had no idea.

A year later, I was headed home from Lexington, when a cop pulled me over for going 81 in a 65 on the Bluegrass Parkway. When he came to the window, I put on my best, "I'm going to explode" face and told him that the only reason I was speeding is because I was about to pee my pants (I am being completely serious, I said that to him). He said he'd make it quick, and I responded, "I'm really sorry, sir, it's about to come out right now!" He instructs me to follow him, turns his lights on, and leads me (in the opposite direction) to the exit I'd just passed and to a gas station. I run in and stand in the bathroom for what seemed like an adequate amount of time (if you know me, you know I have a reservoir bladder and only pee about two times a day). So strolled back out to the parking lot thinking I'd really pulled one over on this guy, only to see him standing next to my car, speeding ticket in hand. Thanks, asshole.

The next time I was pulled over was while on Frederica Street in Owensboro. I had absolutely no good reason to be speeding, but I was going 50 in a 35 in lunch-time traffic. This cop pulled me over to ask why I was doing just that. This is how that went:

Me: Sir, it's an emergency. I was on the phone with my mom, who has back problems, and she told me to come home right now, and then my phone died. I'm scared she has fallen and hurt herself.

Copper: I understand, what's your address, and I'll get an ambulance there immediately.

Me: Oh, you're not gonna wanna do that, sir, I'm lying.

Copper: That's what I thought. I'll be right back with your ticket.

Oh, that's how you do it!!

After that, I realized lying was not always the best policy, so I've learned to politely give the men in uniform my license, note that I'm wearing my seat belt, and say thank you when they--always--give me my ticket. I am becoming quite popular among the police in Kentucky, as I have been pulled over by the same cop three times (in a row, within about two months), there was a stretch of about five years when I went to traffic school once a year, and because I'm primarily responsible for paying their salaries with the fines I remit. Part of me wants to sit down and add up how much I--or Pete Clark, sorry, Daddy--have spent on speeding tickets in the last twelve years, but I'm afraid I'd throw up and vow never to drive again. For now, I'm going to at least try to slow down and lighten my lead foot just a little. That is, until the next time I'm five minutes late to work...

Gifts and Thankfulness Vol. 6

Gifts

Um...read about my shopping trip. Enough said.

Today, I was thankful for:

1--Destiny. She makes me so happy. It is completely impossible to be around her and not be happy.
2--Joel and CD. Nothing makes me giddier than seeing my boys after a long day.
3--RAIN.
4--Being able to email my mom and Grannie Annie. I LOVE it. It makes my days.
5--Last night, as Joel was falling asleep, and I was wide awake for the first of many hours, and we were snuggling, he said, "this is my favorite part of every day."And, for that, I am thankful.

Girls Just Want to Have Fun...And SHOP!

The title of the post was almost "Today was the Greatest," but I'm starting to worry that you all might think I live in a sort of La-La Land with all of my awesome-day posts, and also I know how jealous you all might be getting at how amazing my life is. Fear not, though, there will be days were I'm miserable and days where I'm beyond miserable, and you read my boring, tearful posts and think, "today, I'm thankful for not being that Casi Clark girl." Also, I didn't get a chance to write this post last night, which is another reason why it's not called "Today was the Greatest."

So, as you know, we leave for our house boat trip soon, and there is much to be done before we leave. The first three days of this week are going to be crazy in our house, because Joel is working like a mad man getting ready for his upcoming Fourth of July event, and because I--for some strange reason--scheduled myself to be crazy-busy with work as well. In this time, someone is going to have to shop for the things we need for the trip, do all of our laundry, clean our house, have a few staple groceries bought for when we come back exhausted, pack us up, and load our car. Who, you ponder, might be expected do to all this? Why, me, of course.

When I woke up yesterday, with all my huge To Do list staring in the face, I did what most normal people would do--lie in bed until I could no longer justify an extra minute of rest, then get up and wander aimlessly around the house, unaware of where to start. No one kicks my ass into gear quite like my good friend, Destiny, so I called her into action. She--as always--was ready at moment's notice to head to Owensboro for a joint office day to help me get some things done (and I may or may not have lured her here with the promise of a shopping trip when we were finished).

So let's fast forward to that part since the other stuff is boring. (Side note: I introduced her to the Big Dipper, and she's now a believer. I, proudly, did NOT eat a banana split while we were there.) Destiny and I decided that when it comes to shopping for us, you go big or home, so instead of a simple trip to Target and TJ Maxx, we drove to Evansville. I had a handful of coupons and special offers and a long list of things Joel and I needed for the trip. We ended up going to Express (twice), The Limited, Victoria's Secret, Forever 21, Old Navy, and Target. We drooled over many, many more stores, but resisted spending more money than we already had.

There are few things I love more in this world than bargain shopping, and your life would be way less exciting if I didn't share with you the amazing bargains I got yesterday. So here's what was purchased: (I'm excluding the Target stop. Who cares about sunscreen and boxed wine? Yes, Eville's Target sells boxed wine!!)

For Joel: 8 shirts, 1 pair of shorts, 1 pair of pants, 1 pair swim trunks

NEW CLOTHES!!

For Casi: 7 shirts, 1 dress, 2 pairs of shorts, 1 pair yoga pants, 2 pairs of sunglasses, 7 pairs of undies, 1 pair of flip flops, and a sun hat (oops, the scales were maybe tipped in my favor)

This would have totaled $775. Because of my bargain abilities, it actually cost: $275. AND I got $80 worth of "cash" to spend at Old Navy and Express when we get home. Yes, friends, I'm shocked and amazed at myself too. And, yes, I will go shopping with you anytime!

The storm was so bad, at one point, we saw this.

Finally, when my credit card started getting declined (I'm not even kidding, I spent so much money in such a short period of time in a different state that my bank thought my card had been stolen, and they cut it off. BB&T, thank you for protecting me from thieves. Please stop protecting me from myself), we decided to head back home only to be met with the biggest storm we've had in months (also the only storm we've had in months). After driving 20 mph back to Owensboro, Dee decided she probably shouldn't venture back to Bowling Green just yet, and came in to hang out a while.

Me and Dee

We spent the rest of the evening lying in bed, drinking wine, eating turkey and cheese wraps, and watching Girls. (We also made the decision to only refer to text messages as Word Alerts from this point forward. Thank you, Jessa from Girls.) After hours of laughing--and me generally holding her hostage--she headed home to her boys, and I headed out to the tiny lake on the outskirts of Owensboro to pick up my boys (Joel and CD) because our car is stuck in the mud down there. Awesome.



See? Amazing, right? If it makes you feel better, it's not all rainbows and butterflies. I didn't sleep a wink and have a huge day of work ahead of me... Unless, of course, I can convince Destiny to come back and go on a Coozie hunt with me!!

I'm Sailing Away

What the boat looks like in my head

Alright friends, the excitement in our house is building because we leave for a house boat trip in T minus four days. (I have to note that when I say the excitement is building,I mean for me. Joel rarely gets excited about much. We were once on an airplane flying to Costa Rica for an 11 day trip, and I was so excited I'd already peed four times and my face hurt from smiling. When I turned to him and squealed, 'aren't you excited?!?' he replied, 'sure, babe.' That's it. Sure, babe.)

So in a few days, we leave for our house boat trip with several other couples, and I'm both nervous and excited about it. Nervous? You might ask. Let me explain.

What the boat really looks like

First, I'm nervous about my tolerance. I know that you all think I'm this young whipper snapper who can hang with the best of them, but you'd be wrong about that. You see, my alcohol tolerance has declined drastically in the last few years. In and right after college, I had quite the impressive ability to drink whatever I wanted whenever I wanted and still appear to be somewhat normal. You can google this condition, I think it's called alcoholism. But now I underestimate how much I can drink and still be normal. Let me break it down for you.

If I have more than three drinks, I will most certainly wake up the next day thinking, 'did I honestly say that last night???' and have to avoid one or more of the people I embarrassed myself in front of for the next few days. If I have more than four drinks, I will likely dance inappropriately--music or no--and demand some sort of greasy food before bed. (I will, I warn you, talk about this desired food until I annoy someone into getting it for me.  Ask any of my friends.) And any more than that, and I will absolutely puke. (Joel got to witness this about a month ago. Honeymoon=long over.) I also am a hangover expert because I almost always have them. So you can imagine how thinking about a house boat trip with people younger than myself might make me terrified that on the very first night, I'll have a few too many, say something ridiculous, booty dance with myself, and vomit everywhere making everyone regret inviting me in the first place. The only good thing that can happen at that point would be if I stumbled overboard. At least I wouldn't have to look those people in the face the next morning.

What I think I look like when I'm dancing

What I actually look like

Casi, post-sunburn

I'm also a little nervous about motion sickness. (For the record, if this does happen, motion sickness will be the excuse I have for barfing on, off, or around the boat.) The only other time I've been on a moving vessel for a prolonged amount of time was a day-long dolphin siting trip my family took when I was in middle school. My mom, as a preventive measure, fed us all Dramamine for breakfast that day, and we boarded the ship. I had--and still have--an unusually low tolerance for medicines and proceeded to lay down for a minute in my grandfather's lap until I felt better. The next thing I know, they were waking me up to get off the boat. I'd slept through the whole trip, and my sweet grandfather had missed all the action, because I was drooling all over him the entire time. So, honestly, I don't even know if I get motion sickness because my mom roofied me the one and only time I had the chance to find out. 

I'm terrified of getting sun burnt as well. When most people will be carrying on cases of beer, I'll be carrying on cases of sunscreen. And reapplying every five minutes just to make sure. I am the whitest white girl alive; I make Lindsay Lohan look like a native American--don't let my fake tan fool you--I'm part albino and have been known to burn going from the car to the house. And there's nothing more miserable than being sun burnt on a trip. Except, maybe, for being the girl who won't stop puking. 

Now, aside from being a little nervous about my tolerance, my paleness, and my feared motion sickness, I'm utterly and completely excited about the trip. I can't wait to spend time with good friends away from work (the bat phone stays home!), near the water, and miles away from anything I can worry about. And at least if I throw up and act inappropriately or have vertigo the whole time, I'll have something good to write about when I get home.

Gifts and Thankfulness Vol. 4 and 5

Saturday gift:

ANOTHER banana split. Seriously, I have to stop.

Sunday gift:

Another hour of sleep. It was amazing.

Saturday I was thankful for:

1--Being able to be spontaneous. When we want to grab our stuff and head to the lake at a moment's notice, we can.
2--Joel being attentive when we're out places--like the lake--and grilling me hot dogs (I refuse to say how many) when no one else is hungry, because I'm about to starve to death.
3--Coming home after a long day and plopping down in bed. There's nothing better.

Sunday, I am thankful for:

My family. They're crazy and sometimes they drive me nuts, but they're mine. And I wouldn't trade them for anything!

Swimming Back in Time

I wrote recently about what my life was like growing up with two older brothers. And, today, we somehow, suddenly traveled back in time to those moments.

My family is always making up excuses to get together and eat and talk about funny stuff. At Christmas, even after the holiday celebrations have come and gone, we have Christmas in January and all get back together and do it again. We have joint birthday celebrations twice a year to celebrate the birthdays that have passed in the last few months. We cookout for Memorial Day, Labor Day, and sometimes even Arbor Day (okay, that last part isn't true). We just love hanging out with each other.

How we are in pictures

How we really are

Also, when we get together. It's all about making fun of each other, pulling some kind of pranks on each other, and somehow, some way, the discussions inevitably turn to poop. I can't explain it, but it's like clockwork.

So, today was our fourth of July celebration. We all got together, grilled, drank beer, and swam. We're in a bit of a drought, and so there was thankfully no mention of fireworks. No one wore corny USA shirts, and there was no birthday cake for America. But there were plenty of Clarks and plenty of antics.

A few weeks ago, the boys purchased an above ground swimming pool. Again, not everyone gets to live in the lap of luxury like us Clarks. I know how jealous you are. But it's perfect for family gatherings when it's 106 degrees out.

The ones who aren't technically related learn to fit in quickly

(I should take this time to say that Kevin and Chris live in the same house. Kev and Em have lived there for years--upstairs--and Chris, April, and Jack moved into the downstairs about a year ago. They wanted me to move in next door, and I replied, "You people are crazy!")

Jack was ready to begin the entertainment at a moment's notice

It was as if as soon as our feet touched the water, we were back to being kids again. Kevin was using the noodles to blow water rockets into people's faces or, in my case, into my crazy crack eye. Everyone was making inappropriate comments about the phallic-like noodles, and anytime anyone could pants Jack, there was at least an attempt. At one point, Kevin and I challenged each other to an in-water crab race, but soon realized we'd need the function of our arms tomorrow and stopped. People were getting startled by a blast of freezing cold water from the hose, and I think Chris successfully sprayed every person in attendance in the tookus with a spray bottle. It was nothing but fun.

We, of course, had enough food to feed a small army, and Jeff and Joel joked the whole time about needing more hot dogs (because the 45 we grilled simply weren't enough).

It may be America's birthday we're celebrating or our independence or the people who graciously fight to give us that, but when the Clarks get together, it's always a celebration of each other. Young or old, big or small, related or not, no one is immune to wise-cracks, practical jokes, or discussions revolving around poop. We are the Clarks: party at your own risk.