SO YOU’LL PROBABLY THINK WE’RE WEIRD. And that’s fine, because honestly? I do too. C’mon. He sleep talks and I eat Kool Aid plain.

Yep.

I do. Don’t judge.

So since we’re weird, photos like this shouldn’t surprise you.

And they won’t, because we’re the bat killers that receive dead animals as presents and dare siblings to ask for fumunda cheese.

(Here is where I expound a little about the whole bat situation. A lot of you were concerned for the bat, and were sad to learn that we killed it. But cute, and fluffy, and bat-like as it was, we weren’t allowed to let it live. Grams, who is allergic to bats and was afraid it would come back and nest in her attic, sat up on the stairs and hollered for us until we showed her the proof that it was dead. And you don’t mess with Grams.)

(Dear bat, I am sorry. Also? Stay out of my house).

Anywho. Sleep talkers and Kool Aid eaters.

Also? Jumpers.









Well, he jumps. I just stand there looking all judgmental.

Kevin: You kind of look like Monica in this picture.

Me: Who?

Kevin: Monica. You know, from Friends?

Me: Eww! what? No.

(Later, on Facebook, from our photographer) Nate: I agree. I totally thought that when I was editing these.

(The Scene: 9:30 at night, I go into the bedroom and snuggle into Kevin, burying my face in his neck).

“I finished my book,” I said softly.

“You okay?” he questioned.

“I cried,” I mumble in response, on the verge of tears again.

“Aww babe,” was his only response as he wrapped his arms around me.

“And now I’m crying because I’m embarrassed about crying over a book!” I tried to keep my tone level and keep my tears off of his skin.

“Well how did it go? Tell me everything.” I knew he was trying to cheer me up, and possibly wanting an answer for how something could upset me so bad.

“I can’t. Ask me tomorrow.” I got up to blow my nose.

He made a chuffing noise. “What kind of book is it, The Notebook!?”

“No – worse!”

(SOMEONE please tell me I’m not alone. I usually don’t admit to the fact that I cry about books, but this one seriously. Wow. Genius. A must read.)

I’M NOT DEAD. WordPress is broken (anyone know how to fix the kitchen sink? I’m all ears), I hate my layout and I have over sixteen thousand images on my computer that I need to organize and move to an external hard drive because apparently sixteen thousand photos is too much for my computer to hold, which means that until that gets taken care of, I can’t upload the video and show you something hilarious that happened to me two weekends ago. But none of this is going to happen until I finish reading Mockingjay and maybe spend some time with the husband, because I don’t know, I married him? So he at least deserves a couple of minutes of my time as well as a warm dinner every now and then and a pat on the back for putting up with me.

I know. I frustrate me too.

I’m having a heated internal debate wherein the wanna-be literary genius and the photo-happy bride in my head duke it out over whether I should post pictures or words. Only, there is a problem with the pictures (see above) and my words are a jumbled mess of disjointed thoughts about life, love, and dirty dishes.

I’m working on it people. Have patience.

Here is your warning that the next few weeks will be sporadic posting about this that and the other. . .words, photos, wordless photos, and the like. Oh, and I’ll eventually get around to posting pictures of the honeymoon and maybe some day I’ll fill out that stack of thank you cards that glares at me from the kitchen counter.

For now here’s some pictures because I think my words are starting to not make sense.

(All photos credit to Nathaniel Ray Photography).

I HAD EVERY INTENTION TO FILL THIS SPACE WITH SO MANY HONEYMOON PICTURES AND STORIES that you’d want to break my computer two days into it just to get me to stop posting. I mean, come on, I was tweeting and Facebooking and picture uploading after the wedding right up until my phone lost service when we stepped on the cruise, and I had awesome stuff scheduled for the whole week we were away. But then we came back and those good intentions to post got pushed behind the pile of all the crap (“crap” is probably not an appropriate term for all the gifts we were given) that needed to be opened, put away, organized, cleaned…not to mention the piles of my junk we had to dejunk so he could have some room to actually claim as his.

So for the past five days I’ve been overloaded and overwhelmed and any other word that starts with “over”, so I took a break from the web so I could get my real life in order. I’m finally to a point where I don’t feel like I’m losing my mind – as much. And yes, you will still hear all the fun honeymoon stories like the time Kevin got his face licked by a parrot and I got sat on by a donkey. All things in time.

But last night!

Let me set the scene a little bit.

It was around 8:30. Dinner was hot and ready on our plates, and I’d convinced Kevin to suffer through watching 27 Dresses with me. We were barely getting to the good parts when we heard something fall over by the fireplace.

“What the hell was that?! Did you hear that? Something just fell,” Kevin turned towards me in the dark.

I told him that yes I’d heard it and whatever it was, it was definitely INSIDE with us. I have better eyesight than he does at night and I could see the thing as it scurried up the fireplace screen. I jumped up and turned on the light, expecting to see a mouse. What we found instead?

A bat.

A big, hairy, ugly bat that had flown down our chimney, weaseled it’s way through the closed vent and crawled, creep-like, up our screen.

This totally trumps the two half-dollar sized wolf spiders Kevin found and killed on our porch a few weeks back.

“IT’S A BAT! A BAT IS IN OUR HOUSE. IN. OUR. HOUSE!” I was screaming and laughing and just freaking out in general. I like bats, but I don’t want to touch them or move them. All I could keep thinking about was the freak accident from a few years ago where a bat fell out of a tree in pure daylight, fell on a baby, then BIT HIM AND GAVE HIM RABIES. The entire families had to get rabies shots in the stomach.

Gag.

So we started planning on how we were going to get the damn thing out of our house (don’t give me that look, you’d swear too if you had a bat in your house). I found a pair of old riding gloves and threw them on, fully knowing I wasn’t going to actually grab the thing with my hands.

Double gag.

So what did I do instead? I gave the gloves to Kevin, handed him an old pillow case and kicked back with the camera to document it.

Only for you, Internet.

Enjoy the video, and may your house be pest free!

Love, The Officially Freaked Out Newlyweds