Snapshot Sunday

Today was Lilly's baptism. I was transporting rice in the passenger seat, so Jared sat in the back. Then he sat in the front and got rice juice all over his pants and it was really quite unfortunate.


Then we went to church and saw Lilly get water on her head.


Jared and I still don't understand how grown, educated adults attend mass and think it's factual/real instead of being exactly like Santa Claus. On the bright side, the church itself was exceptionally beautiful.


I really hope no one saw us do this.


Then we went to the hall. These chocolate lollipops made the cutest centerpieces.


Look and Lilly and her uncle! So adorable.


Then we left early because the entire party was like watching a soap opera. We went back to Jared's house where we acquired a child. Long story short: today is our 9 month anniversary so it was very clear to me that when this mouse fell out of Jared's closet, it symbolized the child I have been secretly carrying inside me throughout the duration of our relationship. Also, when we went to Virginia, we made up an imaginary friend named Willard, who is a rat that loves Jesus, pecan pie, and Internet fetish forums. So...I guess what I'm trying to say is that we're insane and Jared is really good at sewing.


Mother and baby.


Proud father and son.

See ya never.

Snapshot Sunday

I had work in the morning, then went to my aunt's for Mother's Day/Amanda's birthday. Titi & Mema are cute.


The babies were entertaining as always. "Ashley, how does Jared grow a mustache? He's just a teenager!"


Amanda's delicioussss donut cake. I must have one for my birthday.


This is me creeping on Zach. He's the CUTEST thing of all time. And also extremely hilarious.



My obnoxiously loud family's rendition of Happy Birthday. Look at Zach's hug at the end! IT MAKES ME MELT. I need to kidnap him.



After the party, I watched 19 Kids & Counting and waited 900 hours for Jared to stop flossing his teeth and eating strawberry shortcake just so he could come blow in my mouth to see if it would sound like blowing into a bottle. -_-

PS- there has never been a more accurate description of our relationship than the one above.

Snapshot Sunday

I knew this day was going to be terrible from the moment I peered outside. It was rainy. And by rainy, I mean wormy.


It was obviously imperative that I break out the worm boots immediately. I had to get gas, you see, or else I would be unable to make it to work. Unfortunately, I had no money in my checking account, so I had to take money out of my savings. And since I'm terrified of going inside the gas station to ask if they could please put $20 on pump 6, I forced CJ to come with me.


When I approached my car, I discovered that I had neglected to roll my windows up the night before. I thought I was going out, so I told myself I'd roll them up when I came home, but I ended up staying home and crying. Big mistake.


CJ was not exactly amused by this ordeal.


When I got to the ATM, I literally died laughing. Because this is my life. Luckily, I ignored the sign and withdrew regardless. The receipt didn't print out, but I was able to get the cash.


After work, I came home and had leftover stuffing and corn for dinner. :(


Then I went to Anthony's dorm to work on my paper.


And to find him a fat girlfriend. As for the paper? I have half a sentence completed. Beautiful.

Today I tried not to think of you. I scanned your words for traces of history; I found myriad threads jumbled from their inception. She stood there with her eyebrow arched, stifling laughter. I am pathetic. As far as my existence is concerned, your emotions will never run strongly enough to spark vocabulary.


I feel fake to the point of repulsion.

I am standing at the corner of February as I consider my hands.

You read the letter I addressed to your neighbor;
I wiggled my eyebrows and you snorted.
Later, you pretended to sleep and I
crept into the kitchen to pour
a glass of water.
With your eyes still closed,
you commanded my return.
I know because the creases of
your forehead were unchanged.
"Spell a word on my arm," I whispered.
In summer, you traced "butterfly" and "love."
By winter, it was a stupid game
and I was just a stupid girl.
"Do you know what my hands look like?"
But you were asleep this time,
and now I was the one pretending.

April is not at all the cruelest month.