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I wish my life was an Eric Carle illustration. Who knows, maybe it is and I just haven't found the correct image to portray 22 years of ups, downs and inbetweens.
I feel a sickness invading my body again. I actually begged the illness gods to let me be healthy because Stephanie is heading back home in a little less than two days. (more like one day and 8 hours) I cannot wait! The raging, the _______ ______ subs, the love love love love looove!
Silly illness.. nothing some Wegmans Veggis Chili, Sex and the City DVDs and a few forehead kisses can't cure.
For hours, I watched cars of various shapes and sizes get completely stuck in the snowbank outside of the Ambassador. Once the squealing of the tires and flying of the snow commenced, Nick, Peterbilt and I would rush to the couch, tear open the blinds and giggle until we couldn't breathe. All the while, some poor soul would be huffing and puffing, swearing and shaking fists until their little compact Toyota would wiggle out of the giant pile of mucky snow. As if karma couldn't rear its ugly head any worse.. an hour after our voyeristic ways, Nick's car foolishly gets stuck in the back parking lot. Although we did have an immeasurable amount of fun tying his car to mine and acting like real manly men pulling the car from it's embedded spot, I feel like karma is on the prowl.