This past weekend, we travelled to the Houston bay area to visit with relatives. Yes, I delivered Christmas gifts, and before y’all decide to judge me, we ended up picking up a bunch of Christmas gifts, too.
I’m not the only one who procrastinated in the family.
A house full of kids will drive anyone insane, so the adults, consisting of Twin BIL and his wife Red, Nomstress and her hubby Nightflyer, and Mr. Aggie and myself, went out for sushi and adult conversation Saturday evening. We needed it. I had been exposed to so much Winx and Spongebob, and Call of Duty While Killing Nazi Zombies in a Cow Field (or some such game), that I was starting to ask my 6 year old niece why the Winx fairies didn’t have armor. I was a mess.
Anyway, we met the Nommie and Nightflyer at the sushi place, which was nice, except the ambiance was all hipster and the music was all contemporary American pop. Seriously, no Kitaro?? Silk Road I and II?? Sheesh… We get the menus and decide what sushi to ingest, and the talk turned to our perspective families, and the ties between then, since Nommie and Hubby and Twin BIL grew up together. The talk turned to the graduation timeline, and Nommie was trying to determine if she was “legal” the time they went to Spec’s™ to buy beer.
Nommie: Well, keep in mind I graduated with you (Hubby and Twin BIL) in 1984, but I was sixteen.
Twin BIL: And the accident happened after I moved in with [Hubby] in 1991.
Nommie: So I was still underage, right?
Nightflyer: Honey, it was 1991. You were 16 in 1984.
Nommie: So….??
Me: Uh, 16+6= 22!!
Nightflyer: You should never do math in public, honey.
Nommie: Lesson learned!
In their defense, the sake was flowing pretty smoothly by this time. A great time was had, and a repeat performance scheduled for the next trip we take down to the area.
But there will be no math 😉
July 16th, 2012 at 9:55 AM
Drinking and doing math should never be mixed. Ever.
On an aside, I tried sending you an email, but every time, I get a notice telling me there’s a problem. Have you changed emails?
July 16th, 2012 at 9:59 AM
Are you sending it to the account I have attached to WP?
July 16th, 2012 at 10:00 AM
yes, and you’ll get the email from my new email address.
July 16th, 2012 at 10:01 AM
Ok, will check it when I get back from fetching the dogs at the vet’s 🙂
July 16th, 2012 at 9:59 AM
Never mind about my last comment. I got my email to work, problem on my end with this computer. You should have the email now.
July 16th, 2012 at 10:23 AM
Hope the weekend was fun. We had “gun camp” with the nieces and nephews. Watching their faces as they fired an M1 was priceless.
More than 1 “That was Awesome!” was heard.
And I had to start out with a 22 when I was that age. Kids these days are so lucky.
July 16th, 2012 at 10:25 AM
If I had sponsored a “gun camp”, I would be in detention right now 😉
July 16th, 2012 at 10:35 AM
Guess it depends on the months in question, also….cuz I took my shoes off to check the math, and 1991-1984=7. Oh, wait….sake was involved. Nevermind!
Mmmm…gun camp. I did a little bit of shooting in the Boy Scouts, with the standard single-shot .22 rifles…nobody bothered to show me how to use the sights, and it wasn’t until much MUCH later that I learned about cross-eye dominance. My groupings got MUCH tighter, even with iron sights, once I started shooting rifles lefty. But that’s the purpose of gun camps and Boy Scouts and mentoring in general…passing along hard-earned wisdom so that future generations can build upon it and not keep reinventing the wheel. Or the foul language discovered whilst dealing with aforementioned wheel-shaped frustrations.
July 16th, 2012 at 11:32 AM
Yes, I did take the months in question! That’s why there was a slight *ahem* discrepancy 😉
July 16th, 2012 at 12:46 PM
In this case, gun camp = setting up targets (including an old gas grill) a long ways away, and shoot at them from the picnic table.
Good times!
July 16th, 2012 at 4:07 PM
Hey, that’s still awesome! “Gun Camp” doesn’t need to involve full-on SERE training. Just someone willing to take a personal interest in a kid and help them grow and mature and gain confidence in themselves. That, my friend, is overflowing with AWESOME and WIN.
July 16th, 2012 at 1:37 PM
MLB (my lovely bride) absolutely doesn’t do math, so I loved this post. And she doesn’t even need sake to have issues!!
July 16th, 2012 at 3:26 PM
I must admit that math and I are not friends, either 😉
July 18th, 2012 at 12:42 AM
If I could add two and two and not get blue square, Ms.Aggie . . .
I would have been a Viper driver, rolling in on target over iraq or afghanistan . . .
Maybe one of the few Raptor drivers now . . . but that would be like winning the super mega red ball lottery for the men and women who wear the speed jeans.
Fewer than two hundred of the most sophisticated warplane yet devised . . . and people wonder why they cost so much when they built them two or three at a time.
If they were built in the numbers the Air Force asked for, the F22 could be as low as $50mil each, not $150mil . . .
An aircraft genuinely necessary.
Unlike $3mil for shrimp on treadmills . . .
$763,000 on “YouTube of Dance” . . .
$72,000 buzzing monkeys with cocaine . . .
$150,000 to study reducing hot flashes through yoga . . .
$10mil on White House parties in 2009 alone . . .
$10mil on the obama vacations nearly each year . . .
$800bil on the first stimulus for shovel-ready jobs that were never shovel-ready . . .
$493,000 just to research and report on the first stimulus act . . .
MORE stimulus . . .
“Quantative Easing” to deliberately sabotage the value of the dollar . . .
MORE “Quantative Easing” . . .
True the problems in Washington existed long before the current administration . . .
But enough is enough.
Even if the Donkeys had not directly tried to kill me by playing fast and loose with budget voting when their sediton and treason was at it highest under pelosi . . . which they DID, because we had shortages out there.
I could never vote for them and still consider myself an American.
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Friggin’ socialist liberals and RINOs cannot do math either . . .
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Sorry, Ms.Aggie . . .
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Uhmmm . . . three men walk into a bar, the fourth man ducks.
A horse walks into a bar, the bartender asks: “Hey there, fella’, why the long face?”
How do you help an elephant cool off? Put him in a refrigerator.
How do you get an elephant in a refrigerator? You open the door, pull the rhino out and push the elephant in.
How do you know if an elephant has been in your refrigerator? All your peanut butter is gone.
July 18th, 2012 at 9:01 AM
No need to apologize, Roundhammer. It’s all true.
Even the part about the peanut butter 😀