stop, drop and roll

Have been home since Tuesday night. In case you are keeping track, since then I have had Taco Bell TWICE and On the Border ONCE. Any diet/exercise progress I made in England is gone.

Came home.
1. Was I ready for that mid-term literature test? Noooooooooooooo!
2. Am I way way way behind on my Literature homework? Yessssssssssss!
3. Did I inadvertently set the oven on FIRE when I tried to broil the Pastor a steak? Yessssssssssss!
4. Is one of the kiddos on in-school suspension? Yesssssssssssss!
5. Did the Pastor post pics on my blog out of order? Yesssssssssss!

In my defense, it WAS the first kitchen/cooking related fire I've ever had. And I was watching the steak as it engulfed in flames, so I was able to oh-so calmly turn the oven off, grab the baking soda and put the fire out. Since I'm a vegetarian, this makes the event even worse. Not only was the meat already dead, I continued to torture it.

Boobs = Stuff
When I was in England, there was this one day when I wore the push-up bra and had cleavage. So I joked with the Pastor all day that when anything good happened to us, it was because I had boobs. This was a really good day. We went to a play that day, and I bought the tickets. I told the ticket seller Wow~those were cheaper than I thought! He said that's because I charged you the UNDER AGE 25 rate! Under 25 AND boobs!

Also on this same day, we ran into this guy who believed he could figure out where the Pastor and I are from, based on listening to our accents. He nailed the Pastor as being and Oregonian on the first try. Me, he guessed as a Californian! Wrong! Ha! Of course, I told the Pastor the blonde hair and boobs had thrown the guy off. Stuff like pink clothes (I was dressed all in pink) and blonde really sticks out like a sore thumb in England.

Anywho. Under 25. Boobs. Californian. That was a good day. We must hold on to these fond memories for the times when we are back to reality and burning down the house.