First of all, on Thursday night Dave had an eyelash on his cheek, so I did what any wife would do: I grabbed it off of his face and stole his wish (please tell me you still make wishes on your eyelashes. They rarely come true but I take it as some kind of jinx insurance to still do it). Dave was sad because apparently his wish was that I would get out of having to stay and work for all of graduation on Friday night, and be able to accompany him to his cousin Richard's graduation party that night. I told him that was never going to happen so it was a good thing that I used that wish up for him.
Then, miracle of miracles, I got to work the next day and I was told that I could, in fact, go home early from graduation! So I guess there is absolutely no power in an eyelash wish after all, but I was happy nevertheless.
We got in the car to go to the place that the party was supposed to be held, and much to our surprise, it was this trampoline place called Airborne. Apparently Mari and Richard's friend owns it and so they used it as a guise for him showing up for his surprise party. Although we were far from dressed for hardcore jumping (I require stretchy pants for most of my amazing tricks, and I wanted to give the people what they wanted) I got really really excited because I have always wanted to go to one of those places even though they are kind of marketed towards middle-schoolers and prom day-dates (and, besides our party, that is pretty much all that was there--loud, embarrassing flirting and all). Whatever. Luckily we had Dave's cousin's kids there to jump with and I could disguise my spider-man tricks as part of playing with the children.
If I had only known that this would be such a great photo opportunity, I would have brought my camera, but all I had on me was my phone, and therefore here are a plethora of terrible, flash-less phone pics:
Look at the little happy jumping boy! (P.S. Dave had a sprained ankle due to injuries sustained while helping our cousins move, yet he still insisted on jumping on one foot. Observe the left foot not actually touching the tramp)
Dave always leaves events that involve his nieces and nephews all sweaty from them chasing him around. I guess they like him as much as I do.
Model? (also, look how cute lil' Dallin is in the background)
And to top it off, the most awkward picture ever of the two of us, courtesy of 6-year-old Sage. Yes you would think that for how excited I was about this place that I would jump high enough to stop my toes from dragging but alas, like I said, I am nothing without my stretchy pants.
*Embarrassing story: when Dave and I started dating, he and his roommates had this weird thing where they would give code names to girls that they liked. Mine was "Operation Stretchy Pants," which I saw written on their white board but never understood. When I finally found out that it was ME, I protested because it sounded like the name you would give a fat girl who can only fit into stretchy pants. Dave said it was just because I was a dancer, and apparently all dancers wear stretchy pants all the time (kind of true...I do own many pairs of stretchy pants in all honesty). He changed it to jazz pants, which was only slightly more flattering.
Operation Stretchy Pants!!!!!! Hahahahahahahahahahahaha....those were the good old days!
ReplyDeleteP.S. This comment proves once and for all that I do read your blog (all the way to the end of the post) and that I love it. :)