I'm home
okay, so as soon as I got home from Dekalb, I had to drive to Bishop Hill (the first Swedish settlement in Illinois, wahoo) and work all stinkin night long. You see, friday and saturday night are called Lucia nights after Saint Lucia. I won't bore you with the entire swedish history of Saint Lucia but it has to do with a youngish blonde girl walking around in white pajamas with candles in her hair and carrying food. I always wanted to portray Saint Lucia but we won't get into that. Anyway, I had to waitress upstairs in the restaurant that I work at called The Red Oak. That meant that I had to drag my body, weighted down with delicious swedish cuisine, up and down a flight of stairs all night long. However, there was an upside to the night. There were four middle aged ladies seated at one of my tables. After I gave them their seperate tickets, one asked me if I was planning on getting married. I thought that this was a sort of odd question to ask your waitress but I answered after a few moments with, "I don't know, I'm sort of a committment phobe." She kind of laughed it off and proceeded to inform me that "husbands are pathetic pukes." Again, I was a little confused as to why this woman was filling me in with all of this information and random questions. She then asked me what I was doing after I graduated. I half jokingly said, "I want to be a Dallas Cowboy's Cheerleader." To this she replied by saying, "Well, you sure got the cheeks for it," as she proceeded to smack my ass. What a great Lucia Nights.
My little neice Lydia's fifth birthday was on Friday as well. One day after her little puppy Twinkie was ran over and killed. Boy, that was a fun weekend.
My little neice Lydia's fifth birthday was on Friday as well. One day after her little puppy Twinkie was ran over and killed. Boy, that was a fun weekend.