America, Celebration, Dessert, Family, Food, Funny, Summer

Birthdaze 

Since when does setting your alarm for 6:45 am feel indulgent? I don’t know, but there’s something about that extra 45 minutes that feels a little like eating ice cream for dinner. Does this mean I have officially reached adulthood?
Speaking of ice cream for dinner, I decided to cut sugar. Well, I’ve technically been off sugar since I came back from Laos. Actually, that’s not completely true either. What I mean by that is that I have been off of processed sugar. In Laos, there were very few options for anything processed. It was mostly all fruits and vegetables and rice. So, I didn’t eat any processed food for my three weeks there. Then, when I came home, the garden was finally producing, so I just continued. 
Side note: processed sugar is really addictive. I assume everyone already knows this. But, if anyone needs some suggestions of documentaries to watch or books to read on this point, I can definitely suggest some good ones! 
Back to my story though. Last week, on our fishing trip to Canada, my grandma made snacks to send with us, so I broke my no processed sugars contract with myself, promising I would get back on track when I got home. Unfortunately, it’s birthday week, which I forgot. So, now I’m stuck in a perpetual cycle of cake and ice cream events. I’m still trying to limit it, but who can pass up cake and ice cream for a birthday?
My mom’s birthday is July 14 and mine is July 22. I am almost never home on my birthday, due to church camp. See No Laughing Matter for the 2015 festivities. But, this year, it just so happens that it falls in the weekend before we go to camp. So, I don’t really know what to do with myself. 
Anyway, today is my mom’s birthday. The older I get, the more I realize that I am becoming more and more like her. (Which is mostly a good thing, love you, Mom!) Mostly I notice it in the conversations we have. We have a lot of the same patterns of speech, but more than that, we think in the same ways. We are both very detail oriented, so if anyone is telling us a story, we’ll both ask a lot of questions. We also share the same sense of humor. 
Which is why when Jake and I went to pick out her birthday cake, I knew it would be just right. If you know my mom, you know that she is very particular about certain things. This is where she and I part ways. I’m not picky at all. But, a few of the things she likes and will not compromise on: Coke (it cannot be Pepsi, it has to be Coca-Cola. Original. Not diet. Not caffeine free.) Ice (you cannot just have a cold drink, there has to be floating chips of frozen water in it) Whipped icing (buttercream won’t do).
Her favorite is a store bought (trust me, I would do homemade but she likes store bought better) white birthday cake with whipped icing. Jake and I knew this. Because it’s what she always got for us. So, we went in search of this cake. When we got to the store, they have a selection of cakes that you can choose from and then request writing on it. I assume that you can actually think ahead and call and order exactly what you want, but why would we plan to do that? Right. So, we were distressed to find that they didn’t have any with whipped icing. It was all buttercream, except for one lonely chocolate cake with whipped icing. And, you guessed it, chocolate won’t do. 
The bakery lady (Dee, as indicated by her name tag) noticed our distress and asked if she could help us. Jake explained what we were looking for and she said they had one last white cake with whipped icing that someone had just come in to claim. But, they hadn’t come back for it and she didn’t think they were going to. She showed it to us and it proudly stated “Happy Birthday, Zack!” 
Jake and I looked at each other. Then he said: we’ll take it just like that. Dee laughed, like we were joking. I proceeded to explain that it was just for our mom, for a little family birthday party, and that it didn’t really matter what it said, she just liked that kind of cake. Dee laughed again and said she couldn’t do that, she’d feel bad sending a cake with the wrong name on it. Finally, Jake said, just put a red X through it and write Mom out to the side. Well, Dee just thought that was the funniest thing anyone had ever asked her to do. But, we talked her into it, assuring her that it would be funnier than if it had been done right in the first place. 


She did what we asked and it was funny. So funny that she asked the other bakery girl to come take a picture of her handiwork. As we were walking away, with our prize birthday cake in hand, Dee said, thank you kids so much for that! I was having a bad day and I needed something to make me laugh and that just really made my day. And you tell your mom, Happy Birthday from all of us here at the grocery store.

So, Mom: Happy birthday from me and Jake! And also, from Dee and all the other unnamed people at the grocery store. Hope you have a good one!
(Also, Zack, if you happen to be reading this: happy birthday to you too, sorry for stealing your cake.)

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America, Animals, Canada, Culture, Family, Food, Funny, Outdoors, Summer, Travel

Drenched

Guess who fell into the lake? In full rain gear. They say that stuff is waterproof. Which is true. As long as you don’t accidentally fully submerge yourself in said water. 

The soon to be drenched clothing (with an added rainjacket)

I have this patented Brittney move when we come in to dock. I step out of the boat, holding the rope in my hand, onto the dock with one foot, then pull the boat (with the rope and my other foot) snug to the dock to tie it. This works okay (although now going over it in my mind, it’s really not the smartest move, but it made sense to me when I was doing it) as long as you have the rope in your hand, to anchor yourself and keep control of the boat, which your other foot is still in. If you are distracted, and forget to grab the rope, there is a slight possibility that the boat will come out from underneath you and dump you into the 60 degree lake water. Which is what happened. 

The water was not that deep, seeing as how we were right at the dock. But, somehow, I managed not to catch myself at all and went completely under, thoroughly soaking every single thing I had on. Which was three layers of clothing. A wool pullover, which has yet to dry out, a long sleeve shirt, the aforementioned rain pants and jacket, even my ballcap was dripping. 

I wasn’t wearing a lifejacket either. See, I have this theory. My dad got me a ground blind for deer hunting a few years ago for Christmas. I think it was a gift partially for me, partially for himself. It’s essentially a camo tent he can sit me in, out in the woods. There are a few benefits to it. He can go off to his tree stand, with full assurance that he hasn’t set me in a tree stand that I could potentially fall out of. Although, why he’d ever be nervous about me falling out of something is beyond me. And he knows that by putting me in a ground blind, I am less likely to distract a potential target with the flipping of my book pages, as I’m reading and patiently waiting for something to walk by. 

So, he got me the ground blind for Christmas, and we took it out for its inaugural hunt the day after Christmas. There’s a short, few days rifle hunt right after the holiday to complete the year. So, he put me in my blind and trailed off through the woods, with the promise that if I shot (which would be a rare occurrence), he’d come find me. Sure enough, right at dark, a doe walked out, and I shot. It wasn’t my best shot, as demonstrated by the hour long tracing of a tiny blood trail down a steep hill. But, I got it, and the guys found it, hauled it up and we deemed my ground blind a perfect gift. 

A few weeks ago, my brother insisted on buying me a bike helmet because he thought it might hurt if I fell off, going 20 mph down the dirt road. Again, I don’t have any idea why he’d think I’d be injury prone. So, he got me one, and I begrudgingly wear it. But, I was 100% sure that on my first ride wearing it, I’d have a wreck. I didn’t, but still. 

The bike helmet proponent himself

So, my dad nearly insisted on getting me a fancy life jacket that automatically inflates the moment you hit the water. And, I didn’t let him, because I knew if I did, I’d fall out. 

Looks like that logic worked out well for me. 

I had a conversation with him during one of our boat rides about whether or not he felt that I could drink the lake water without getting some sort of terrible disease. He said I probably could, but he didn’t want me to try it. I wanted to try it. 

Looks clean and blue and beautiful, right?

Well, when I fell in, I got the chance. Because I accidentally gulped a good amount down. And not the deep, middle of the lake water that I was wanting to try. No, the grimy, shoreline, dock variety. The possibility of illness remains to be seen. 

Luckily, I hauled myself up, laughing. I was slightly terrified because our float plane pilot had told me not to put my feet in the water, for the chance that the pike might bite my toes off, mistaking my bright orange toenail polish for bait. I’m still not sure if he was kidding or not, but I didn’t want to take any chances. 

The pike, however, weren’t interested in my toes. So, I dried off, went back out, and tried a less dangerous boat maneuver, and a more natural colored bait. Which they fell for. Hook, line, and sinker. 

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