If the Dork Lord decides to keep me after last night, it will be a tribute to his inexhaustible patience and how really, really cute I am. When we went to bed, I had a migraine a-bloomin’ and that meant the seven hours was filled with of a lot of tossing, turning and um, sitting up and menacingly growling things like, “I need to go to sleep!” That’s the one I remember, at least. From the ten minutes I saw of The Exorcism of Emily Rose on TV last year, I’d say I was doing a very keen impression of the possessed. Love is never having to say, “I’m sorry I suck.”
This weekend, I was invited up to my friend Amanda’s grandparents’ lake house in Oklahoma. Spell check disagrees with me, but I think that should be one word, by the way. Lakehouse. Like, clubhouse or doghouse or crackhouse. If we’re going to compound noun things, let’s not go about it half-assed. Regardless of the spelling of lakehouse, I had an excellent time up there and while some of that was the being lazy, floating around on the lake eating Oreos, a lot of the awesomeness was spending time with the grandparents. I’m not all that close to mine – a natural byproduct of growing up several hundred miles away – so it’s a huge treat to sit around the breakfast table with a faux-crotchety ole grandpa telling quasi-inappropriate jokes while grandma peels apples and contributes the occasional, “Oh, you stop that, Carl.”
And Carl would not stop that, not even for a second.
On Sunday, instead of going back out on the lake, we kept our sunburns indoors, playing hymns on Grandma’s piano and baking. Grandpa quizzed us on our scripture, and despite my current unbeliever status, I rocked that quiz, King James style, yo. I felt kinda like the Flanders kids, on some Biblical trivial pursuit. Yay! I get to clothe the leper!
Did I mention there was cake? Because there was. Cake and ice cream. And pie and ice cream. Thirty-two isn’t too old to be adopted, right?
I do love grandparents, especially mine, but I’m biased. They’re the absolute best antidote to whatever ails you – meaning spoiling you rotten when given the chance. No, 32 is not too old to be adopted.
Love your blog.
Love is never having to say, “I’m sorry I suck.”
I need that stitched into a pillow
How fun! And it sounds like they’ve already unofficially adopted you anyway, so why not make it official, lol!
I challenge you to Bible Trivia. Because, really, King James consults me when he ask questions about the Bible!
Which lake in Oklahoma? That’s where I’m from!
I’m guessing lake Eufaula.
We say, “I’m sorry, I suck” often in my house. I find it is oddly comforting to hear and a pretty good summary for my own actions at times.
great, now I have “bringing in the sheaves” stuck in my head. there are two versions playing… the “Little House” version, and the Flanders’ children version. and now I am thinking of the Scottish highland games where they featured “sheave tossing”. dammit!
I’m glad you had such a great time.
I too am a now non-believer (aka back-slider) but was once a King James scripture champion (in bible college I had 107% on the Personal Scripture final!)
However, I have actively blocked that and would most definitely NOT rock a bible quiz now!
Small world – I’ve been reading your blog for awhile now (and LOVE it!), and I definitely know Amanda! Her grandparents’ lakehouse is across the road from my in-laws’ lakehouse, and we’re going to be there this weekend. It’s the place to be!