But this will have to do.
Here are some things:
I think I have dementia. This is me every single time I make popcorn in the microwave:
Step 1: Put popcorn in microwave
Step 2: Walk away
Step 3: Hear popping noises and shout "OH CRAP SOMETHING IS EXPLODING!"
Step 4: Realize it is my popcorn, which is in fact, designed to explode.
Step 5: Walk away again
Step 6: Allow the smell of burnt popcorn to slowly fill my nostrils as I notice with vague interest, "Something is burning."
Step 7: Rush across the house, remove burnt popcorn from the microwave and repeat steps 1-6 with a new bag of popcorn.
Step 8: Eat burnt popcorn and feel sad at both the popcorn's grossness and the atrophy of my brain cells.
What does this say about the sad state of my attention span? How can I not stay engaged in the simple process of popping popcorn, and yet I can watch every second of any episode of reality TV with complete rapture? I am disgusted with myself and yet the only way I see this situation changing is for the microwave industry to make a popcorn button that actually works. These are the issues, people.
This morning, I made a smoothie with some spinach. Nate absolutely demanded a piece of spinach, and I obliged. He took a bite, made a disapproving face, and then gave it back to me saying, "Leaf?" His tone conveyed so much- why are we eating leaves? Don't you know that they've invented nachos and ice cream?
You may be thinking to yourself, this blog was a waste of a click. But I have been saving an important present for you. I am about the share with you some very exclusive pictures from our vacation to Punta Cana. I didn't want to post these pictures on Instagram- I needed people to work for them.
Let me tell you a tale. One time Cary and I went scuba diving in Punta Cana. There was a photographer there who took pictures of us underwater. After we dove, we were all hanging out on the beach. The photographer was walking around, and asked if we wanted him to snap a shot of us. We said sure! It is important to note that this conversation was in Spanish, and my spanish is limited to directions to the train and there are lots of books in the library type conversations.
So the photographer takes a picture of us on the beach:
Hooray. We are on the beach. Gracias por el photo! Adios!
But. The photographer had different ideas! And rather than try to explain that we just wanted one picture, we decided to just pose for his pictures quick and then move on. Let's take a jumping one!
At this point I jumped up and said "No mas! No mas!!!" And the photographer finally left. And now we have these precious snapshots to forever remind us that we are pasty white weirdos who should vacation indoors, with plenty of clothing on. And that our futures are not in modeling.
You see, if I waited until I had something profound and meaningful to say before I blogged again, I think we would wait forever.