The First Six Months

I don’t like blogs. I don’t read them. I don’t support them. (Well, okay, I’ll admit. I read the Pioneer Woman’s blog because I love her life. And I check my sister’s cooking blog about once a month because I need all the cooking help I can get. So why am I creating a blog, asking YOU to read it? Because our life is out of control enough to ask you to read. Right now, I am sitting in the parking lot of The Pendleton Tire Company. My husband just walked across the street to eat WAFFLE KING for breakfast. Not only are we starting our two week journey to Colorado with 1000 plus calories, we also woke up to a flat tire. We haven’t even made it out of the county. The story doesn’t start there. It began Tuesday night when I asked Thomas to blow up the air mattress we’ve been planning to sleep on as we drive across the country. You know, to see if it had a leak that couldn’t support 460 pounds for 8 hours of sleep (that’s how much our combined weight is.) Whaddya know, we pumped up the air mattress only to discover that our “queen” mattress is…….a……..TWIN MATTRESS. Thomas barely fits on it. Much less Thomas+Margaret=460 pounds.

I failed to mention that the story of our life doesn’t start with this trip. It all started July 5, 2008. We jumped into the Camry on the way to our honeymoon, only to realize I forgot to put gas in my car. Putting gas in my car wasn’t really top on my list on my wedding day. Great timing, huh? After we filled up with gas in the torrential downpour, we headed to our hotel. Thomas become conscious of the fact that he’d left his license, debit card, and all other forms of payment and identification in his car. Don’t forget we took the Camry (my car) on our honeymoon. Therefore, I paid for our hotel the first night. Other eventful happenings on our honeymoon: we got stuck in a drive-through car wash, Thomas bought 8 loaves of bread from the bakery at Harris Teeter, and we stayed 3 nights in a cabin 45 minutes from civilization. **Disclaimer. Thomas says the fact that I drive a Camry (a “foreign” car) is the root of all our sorrows. How dare he insult the Cam-Cam like that!**.

We didn’t go anywhere too exciting for the next five months until the Gator Bowl. Not much to say about that minus the fact that I was the only female sleeping on an entire floor of the Omni full of football players. Five or six of them would stay in our room until 12 or 1 every night playing intense games of Connect Four. That’s about it for Jacksonville.