1. I sent a text meant for my husband to my entire church small group.
No it wasn’t incriminating or horribly inappropriate, but it was embarrassing and hilarious nonetheless. You see, Cole and I were celebrating the ability to be able to look for houses. We have the possibility of buying a home soon, and we wanted to celebrate. I was excited so I get all dolled up for our date night, and suggested that we open a bottle of nice champagne we received as a gift for our wedding a couple years ago.
Perfectly normal text, right? But not when the entirety of your co-ed church small group gets it.
Cole responded by calling me “boo-bear” to be funny, and you can only imagine the resulting texts from our small group when they saw our interaction.
2. I’m a really bad pumpkin carver.
We had two of our friends over for pumpkin carving and everyone’s pumpkins were super artsy and cool. Except mine.
One was shaped like an old castle, another was Jack from the Nightmare before Christmas, and Cole’s was a happy old man with bushy eyebrows. Mine was a pumpkin with a bunch of slits around the sides, you know, so light could come out of it somehow.
Everyone tried to comfort me saying it looked cool like a “paper lantern” of sorts. But I knew what they were thinking: I’m a horrible sculptor of pumpkins.
3. I get really bored when I’m alone too long. And then I write horrible pieces.
I had a wide-open Saturday (yes!) and I decided to not plan anything for it. You know, just be free and wake up in the morning and do whatever I feel like doing that day. That sounds great in theory, right? But then you end up in hour #3 of your Saturday and you get bored (especially when you’re an extrovert). So then you text everyone you know to hang out. And they all already have plans like normal slash obsessive plan-making American citizens.
No one can hang out with me and I realize that I’m solo for the day. So I decide to write. And I write for an hour or so only to find out my work is horrible. So I threw it all in the trash, ran some errands, and settled for Netflix—of which I immediately criticized all the screenwriting and turned it off. And then I sat there, thought for a while, and was reminded about how terrible my writing had been for today and realized that if I wrote for Netflix, it would probably end up horrible, just like these writers. So I turned it back on and commiserated with the poor writing habits of certain shows.
And then I did some laundry and tidied up right before Cole got home from a shoot so he wouldn’t think today was a total bust. And then I turned Netflix on again to rejoin my gang of horrible writers that don’t really know I exist.
And that was my Saturday.
Confessions completed. Watch out who you’re texting y’all, and should you find a TV series that has good writers, please let me know!