So we weren’t raptured

I’m totally okay with not being swept up to the feet of Yahweh, thanks.

Ava, in celebration of her birthday last Wednesday, wanted to have some friends over Friday night.

I knew I couldn’t really turn her down, because some of my favorite memories from my childhood are of slumber parties. I mean, my house was not a place people came to hang out, but once or twice in my growing up days, my parents retreated into their folding door bedroom and let the house be overrun with little girls.

It was during one of these parties that my mom discovered the music of my generation. One of my friends had brought over a cassette single of that song that goes, “you down with OPP, yeah you know me! You down with OPP, yeah you know me“…remember that song?

Cause I don’t, I just remember that one line over and over.

Anyway, Angie had brought over this tape, and we were playing it top volume in the living room, gold shag carpet and all, I think maybe someone was even break dancing.

11 year old white girls from Mississippi. Break dancing in the living room, and I’m pretty sure some VISION street wear was involved there. Hard core.

So we were jamming out, and Mom came in all atizzy. I don’t really remember what was said, but we had to turn it off, change the subject, and Angie hid the tape in her overnight bag.

I’ve gotten way off the subject.

Ava wanted to have a slumber party, and we agreed. She asked several little girls at school, but as it ended up, they all had plans. I could’ve been more proactive I suppose, because no one was invited until like two days before. Maybe I subconsciously knew that they’d all say no that way. Terrible. Mom. Right here.

She did end up having one guest, a little girl whose dad works with Dan. They used to play together during poker nights some. Meemmmmoriiieeees.

Also there was the little girl who lives across the street, but she never came in the house, she just went home when it was time to come inside. She’s older than Ava and I’ve had to scold them both several times for kicking ant beds and jumping on the trampoline like they’re invincible, plus god only knows what her mom thinks the living situation is over here. I say all that to say I’m pretty sure she either thinks I’m Satan or a prostitute. Probably smart thinking on her part to steer clear.

Plus, that kid got a horse yesterday. A HORSE. She was riding it around with no saddle which is something I thought they only did in Dances With Wolves and if you are Laura and Pa Ingalls.

All in all, I think Ava had a pretty fun time. They had pizza and screamed at Max and played in the water hose. If that’s not fun, well…it can’t all be shag carpet and bad 90s rap.

(also, the pictures have nothing to do with anything today, and I’m NOT SORRY)

Maybe it shouldn’t have to be planned

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Am I the only one who can never plan out a fun and fantastic time?

Hello? Bueller?

For years, it has never ever failed – I can make plans for a get together, a party, anything like that – it either winds up as a total dud or it falls miserably short of the hopes I had.

I’ve told myself for a long time that the reasons behind this are that I set my bar too high, I create these scenarios in my head that have little to no chance of actually coming to fruition.

I’m sure you can relate.

But have you ever had one of those nights/parties/events that were totally spontaneous and turned out to be completely amazing? Everything meshed together and formed this perfect harmony and you found yourself wondering what it was that made everything so great?

I totally had one of those weekends this weekend, and now I think I’ve come to the conclusion that most of the time fun just can’t be planned. I mean sure, sometimes plans go off like clockwork, everything turns out amazing.

But most of the time, the memories are made when you don’t expect it at all. And maybe that’s how it should be.

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