It's a beautiful thing when the semester comes to a close, even if it means that no one but a select few are staying for the week-long break.
Rexburg is a ghost town during breaks.
But we breakers have so much fun! Saturday night a bunch of us went to the cheap theater to watch Be Kind, Rewind and then we came home and Kyle had just bought I Am Legend so we watched that on Jeremy's big-screen. Yesterday we planned a big pot-luck for lunch after church, and actually got a good-sized group there, although Rita and I were the only girls. (Not that it matters much to me, but I think some of the guys were a little disappointed that half the female population was engaged.) Then Mike and I went to his sister's in-laws for dinner. It was amazing - she makes very good rolls.
Today, I'm going with Mike to work at the youth ranch for substance abusers in Idaho Falls. After that we're going straight to Pocatello to check out some lava hot springs. (The ones near Rexburg aren't lava, and they're not very well taken care of, so they've gotten a little ghetto.) Then, Bishop Walker has invited all of the members of his ward that are staying over for dinner tonight, so we're gonna hit that up. I'm excited! They put on some great barbeques, and he has an amazing back yard, with a two-hoop court, a trampoline, and a volleyball net.
Yeah, us breakers get pretty special treatment. We can park wherever we want in the lots. We can shop in the stores without getting mauled by urgent mothers who only have a week to get everything their precious babes could ever want. We can loop the roundabouts as many times as we want, and most cops don't care - not that they do when everyone else is here, but still. Yeah, it's a pretty special life.
Updates: Mike and I are finishing up the announcements, not that they need to be sent out any time soon, but we're almost done with them. Oh, and Sox-Yankees = 8-5, respectively of course.
Showing posts with label Mike. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mike. Show all posts
Monday, April 14, 2008
Friday, February 15, 2008
An Engaging Story - Read Film Noir Style
It was a warm Tuesday afternoon when I walked into my apartment. It was dark, too dark. I walked to the back of the apartment and to the half-closed door of my room. I cautiously pushed the door ajar, and there, on my bedroom floor, were balloons. Pink and white, everywhere. (Except you can't tell that they're pink and white, 'cause you obviously see in black and white right now.) On a chair, pulled into the middle of the room, is a sealed manila envelope. I tear open the seal and pull out the contents: candid photographs of a handsome culprit, a disc, and a list of instructions. I popped the disc in and found a transmission from Agent A to me. I was to find one Michael Watkins, who was armed and extremely dangerous.
At precisely the given time, I left to the given place and found in the cabinet a clue! I pulled the bridal magazine from the shelf and red the next clue, "Go to apartment 209. There you will find a Vinni and a Fingers." I left immediately. I had heard of Vinni and his hitman Fingers before. They were not to be left waiting.
This should be interesting.
I prepared for the mission I had been given. The list of instructions told me to be dressed sharply, so I put on a white skirt, red top, and red stiletto heels - some say they're not practical, but they've never had to stab anyone with a heel before. I didn't know what to expect.
At precisely the given time, I left to the given place and found in the cabinet a clue! I pulled the bridal magazine from the shelf and red the next clue, "Go to apartment 209. There you will find a Vinni and a Fingers." I left immediately. I had heard of Vinni and his hitman Fingers before. They were not to be left waiting. I walked into the darkened apartment, and there they were, sitting at a table playing cards oh so cooly.
"We've been expecting you."
"Sorry. Traffic kept me."
"Fingahs, show the lady some manners. Vacate your seat."
"Sorry, Bwoss."
"Please, Miss, take a seat."
I sat in Finger's place, after being thoroughly checked with a tongue depressor. Vinnie and I chatted for a while, and played a quick game of blackjack - Vinnie loves cards, it's a good way to win him over. After we were done with the pleasantries, we got down to business.
"We have an informant who you might be interested in listening to," said Vinnie, pronouncing every syllable. They handed me a rose with a clue on the package. I would have to go to the Hinckley building, but I wasn't allowed to see. They blindfolded me, wrapped a coat around my shoulders, and lead me outside, down the stairs, across the snowy parking lot, and stuffed me into their car. The drive to the Hinckley is maybe 2 1/2 minutes, but it took us at least 6 to get there. (Vinnie is a very discreet man, even when I know where the location is.) Vinnie and Fingers talked nonchalantly the whole way. When we got out, Fingers was sent to find the informant and bring her to the meeting place where Vinnie and I would be waiting.
It took a while for the informant to get to the statue we were to meet at, but when she did, she gave me the last clue: a box of perfume with the last clue on it. I took the blindfold off and grasped the clue.
"You should be able to find your way from here," she said, and she walked off around a corner.
I left the building promptly. The clue said he'd be in the gardens wearing black. No one was to be seen, except a young couple and their photographer. I searched over the gardens and finally saw a stone gazebo. I rounded the gazebo and there he was, in black as promised - the culprit! I walked into the gazebo.
"The gig is up, Watkins."
But was it? He had a new way of wriggling out of trouble, as always. He reached in his pocket - I reached toward my stiletto just in case - and pulled out a box. He dropped to one knee and opened the box.
Epilogue:
We went out to dinner at a place called Sandpiper in Idaho Falls. It was amazing! After that he took me to the Jim Brickman concert at the civic auditorium. (For those of you who don't know, Jim Brickman is a huge romantic piano soloist.) It was so much fun! Although I think I may have failed my mission - oh well. That's where wining and dining will get ya!
Labels:
Fashionable,
Major Events,
Mike,
The Major's Life
Monday, November 12, 2007
Halloween - FUPA Fighters!
Mike calls a person with a lot around the middle a FUPA Fighter. FUPA stands for Fat Upper Pelvic Area. I know, I know... it's weird. So we decided to go as FUPA Fighters Bill and Barb Schwartzky. (Those are our alias' we use on a regular basis, but now they have faces!) 

Here are some pictures just in case you were wondering how they turned out.
Mike and me at his grandparents' house in Utah.
Barb and Bill at Comic Frenzy for Halloween.