(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.
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.
I am so excited I could puke (but hopefully not really – that would be gross).
Since I’m pressed for time to post (it’s currently one in the morning and I’ve heard a lot of people tell me to “try to sleep”) so I’d like to lead you back to our engagement posts.
A few months ago, Kevin took me on a horse drawn carriage ride and proposed.
IN CASE YOU DIDN’T SEE IT ON MY FACEBOOK OR TWITTER, this is Kevin’s new toy.
It is a brand new, 2010 Yamaha R6.
For the record? I’m TERRIFIED of bikes. I generally shy away from anything with loud engines and moving parts. I can’t explain it. It just scares me. It’s not so much the hazardness (totally not a word) as it is the loudness.
But this wasn’t about me. This was about Kevin. I could argue you all day back and forth about how bikes are dangerous. How so-and-so got in a wreck or how you watched that one Oprah episode where the mothers of teens who died from speeding talk about how dangerous these things can be.
I AGREE WITH YOU PEOPLE.
This means that YOU don’t have to own one. But for us? It was what we wanted. It’s not something we rushed into. We talked it over, looked at it from every angle and then once we were comfortable, we moved forward with it.
Sure. We could have waited. It’s not a necessity. Just like drinking Mountain Dew every day isn’t really a necessity yet I do it anyway.
Live a little!
Kevin’s put up with a lot of my crap lately. And he’s granted a lot of my wishes this year. Not to mention that he proposed to me and helped plan a majority of the wedding, took over all flight booking and scheduling preparations and made sure that he did everything he could to take the stress off of me and put it on his own shoulders.
The guy does a lot, and he really does deserve the world.
And what’s better for a wedding present than the one thing he REALLY wanted?
PS.
Arora totally isn’t the bikes name.
Ashley told him that he has to name it since my car is Bessy.
I told Kevin to think of a hot name.
He suggested Tom.
I told him he can’t name it Tom.
He suggested Beatrice.
I told him that’s an old lady name.
He threw out Aurora. You know, to get back at me for the old name comment.
But Aurora totally works – Aurora Borealis anyone? It’s pretty, and shiny, and flashy, and makes everyone point.
So yes.
You may call her Aurora. Or Tom.
Or you can be like me just and scream, “BE CAREFUL!” at the top of your lungs as Kevin rides away. Totally your call.
(I just have to say – because it needs to be said – that I have a lot of TRUST with Kevin. I trust that he will be careful when he’s riding. I trust that he’ll be aware of other drivers and know that they may not always (or more like, will probably NEVER) see him. I trust that he’ll always wear his helmet and protective gloves. This doesn’t mean I’m stupid. Of course he could get hurt. Of course something could go wrong – there are any number of situations that could turn out less than ideal for the bike, or worse, for him. For us. But again, this goes back to the TRUST. Anything could happen to anyone on ANY day. Doesn’t matter if you’re in a car, walking, biking, or just sitting down. You get what I mean. Yes. Bikes are dangerous. They are scary and I’ll be kicking myself if anything happens to him. But I love him and this was more about love and trust and letting him be who he wants to be, and less about my fears and insecurities.)
