We're a little behind the times from a blogging perspective, so I'm going to do a quick recap. I have time to do this because, right now, at 11:44 PM on Friday night, Em is in a van in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of strangers preparing to get out at 3:00 AM or so and run for 5 miles as a part of a 188-mile relay race known as the Wasatch Back. Yeah, I don't get it either. Apparently there are prizes not only for the team that wins, but for "Best Decorated Car", "Best Team Name", and "Best Costume". Em's favorites so far: a team dressed like the cast of Xena, Warrior Princess and people wearing "Rabies Awareness Fun Run" T-shirts.
I'd rather stay up here than run 188 miles...
So being between domiciles definitely has some advantages. For example, nighttime is always a battle. Whenever it's time to brush their teeth / put on jammies / get in (or out) of the tub / read books / sing a song they cry and call for mom. I think the only thing they prefer to have me do is stuff that will a) otherwise get them into trouble or b) get them out of going to bed. I haven't quite figured out why this is. It might have to do with the fact that I tell them if they get out of bed the aliens will suck their brains out of their heads with a giant straw; dunno. Anyway, because they know that Grandma is around, they yell and scream and carry on until she acquiesces (I think this is a fancy term for "negotiates with terrorists") and rescues them / me from me / them.
Additionally, there is always good food to eat at my between domicile. But there is also really not good food to eat. Let me explain: when we first got there, both of the refrigerators were completely full of food. Upon a casual perusal, Em discovered that there were a number of… let's say "questionable" items contained therein. Further inspection revealed that had someone from the FDA been looking they likely could have arrested my in-laws for growing biological weapons next to the cream cheese. After an inventory of food (including leftovers from a Sunday dinner that I kid you not was more than 2 years ago) we got rid of a few things and now there is only good food to eat.
Speaking of food to eat, Jane made me laugh at dinner. We had popsicles for dessert, and Jane chose a green one, which led to the following Laurel and Hardy-esque dialogue:
Jane: "Mmmm, I just love Slime popsicles."
Me: "Jane, that's not slime… it's lime."
Jane: "I know, Slime."
Me: "It's LIME."
Jane: "Yeah, slime."
Rather than disabuse her of that, they shall from now on be known as Slime popsicles.
Finally, I have to talk about actually packing up our house, even though it was a long time ago. My entire adolescent life was spent with the assumption that, upon entering adulthood, I would find a fantastic job rescuing princesses and vanquishing evil for huge sums of money. My envisioned career path rhymed with "Splintendo" and "Innuendo." So when faced with the challenge of putting all of the contents of my house into a container 8'x8'x16' I knew that it was simply a matter of channeling my inner Tetris skills. I'd like to give a shout-out to Alexey Pajitnov (the inventor of Tetris) and thank him for providing the platform that prepared me for the challenge. As I was about to start loading, an ice cream truck drove up the circle, which normally would be annoying, but I took it as a sign. You see, this is likely the only ice cream truck in the world that plays the Tetris theme song while making the rounds.
So with the help of people from the ward and my stalwart brother in-law Steve, I got the high score for live-action Tetris and fit pretty much everything inside. Post-packing, I discovered that the day we loaded boxes was actually the 25-year anniversary of Tetris' creation. Fate was most definitely on my side.
