Lately- Birthday Boy

Last week was Mr. Snoop's 27th birthday! 

Mr. Snoop's #1 Fan, Shammy Boy, celebrated by wearing his plaid bowtie and having a reacurrence of his nasty eye infection:

The backwards ears were because I was taking his picture, not the bowtie.  He loves looking dapper.

The night of, I made cupcakes for two (from Pinterest, holla!) that were super delicious:

So I doubled the recipe.  Sue me. 

Also, do you like our teensy weensy dirty oven?  It fits precisely one cookie sheet.

Mr. Snoop's birthday cupcake.  Strawberries from our CSA.  They are the bomb.com

As for the birthday boy himself, he celebrated by spending his last week of his pediatric rotation--and his 3rd year of med school (!!)--in the well baby nursery.  It was a fruitful endeavor.  He overcame his pathological fear of newborns and now can actually hold, swaddle, feed, and change a diaper.  No freaking way!  Here he is demonstrating his swaddling technique on a cat toy with a napkin:

Earlier in the week, we went to dinner with Mr. Snoop's parents.  We took super adorable pictures but they are with his parents.  So I'll leave you with the view from the restaurant.  See if you can spy Manhattan.  Gorgeous, right? 

Language Arts

After three years in the Great White North, I have observed that among other cultural differences (ahem, manners), certain words have different meanings up here than they do down South.  In my experience, anyways.

Here is a chart with my preliminary findings.  Just what I could think of off the top of my head or words that have caused confusion when I speak to people. 

Word	Southern Use	Yankee Use
Coke	Any soft drink	Coca cola
Tennis Shoes	Athletic Shoes	Shoes used for tennis
House Shoes	Shoes worn in the house/Slippers	N/A
Roll	Roster or bread	Bread only
BBQ	Smoked meat with a tomato-vinegar sauce	Cooking outside with a grill
Grill Out/ Cook Out	Cooking outside with a grill	N/A

 For example.  The following sentences might or might not have been in an actual email draft that I was going to send out to my mission trip kids and their parents.  That I then had to translate before I sent the email, because they would otherwise be unintelligible.

"We need one parent to pick up cokes for our grill out with XYZ Church."

"For the worksite, bring a pair of tennis shoes that you don't mind getting ruined.  Only bring work boots if you already own a broken in pair." 

Also, if you are in the North and use one of those words that for yankees is N/A, you will be met with a blank stare.  Tennis shoes in the North are sneakers. 

Any other words that y'all can think of?

The One Where My Brother Got Attacked

Hi Y'all.

I've been away from here for quite a while.  Major family drama.  Totally sucks.  Can't talk about it in detail here because it is not about me.

So, in more lighthearted news, I have to tell you about what happened in the dead of night when we were at my uncle's ranch over Memorial Day.  We had gone down to celebrate my grandfather's 80th.  Mr. Snoop, my brother Chris, and I all went down a day early to help my uncle with the deck he was building:

Mr. Snoop on the left, Chris on the right.

After a long afternoon of construction, we all went to dinner.  My uncle is a super talented carpenter/builder/handyman/etc.  So he and my aunt built two guest rooms in a metal building on their ranch.  And let me tell you, they are nicer than any hotel or probably your own home.

So Mr. Snoop, Chris, and I all shared a room.  Mr. Snoop and I were in the bed and Chris was on an air mattress on the floor.  We passed out at around 9:30 in the pitch dark of rural Texas.  It was glorious.  Until.

Right around midnight, I woke up to someone screaming and cursing bloody murder.  In that twilight state between sleep and wakefulness I couldn't figure out what was going on, so I guess my brain just went to "INTRUDER!!!" and I apparently rolled into the fetal position started saying "no... no... no... no... no..." over and over.  Haven't lived it down since.

Eventually, in the pitch black, I pieced together that Chris was still screaming but was not being murdered by any intruder I could see.  He was frantically searching for the light, and eventually found it.  By this time, Mr. Snoop was up and we still had no idea what was going on.  Keep in mind that both Chris and I are completely blind at night without our contact lenses.

It was surmised that Chris had been bit by something, several times.  Something wicked.  On the neck, arm, and hand.  Chris is no pansy, and he was hurting bad.  He went and took an advil and then shook out his clothes and bedding to no avail.  We couldn't find anything.  After what felt like endless searching, we decided that whatever bit him was long gone, but just in case--and this is where it gets good--we would all triple up in the bed.  You heard me.  Mr. Snoop stomped to the bathroom in anticipation of being sandwiched between two thrashing Sullivans the rest of the night.

As soon as Mr. Snoop was in the bathroom, Chris started screaming bloody murder again.  Something like "Mother%*$#@^ bit me AGAIN!"  And then began spinning around looking for the beast.  Blind, remember?  As he was spinning, I (also blind) saw something seemingly huge and dark scitter up his back.  I screamed "STOP!!" and commenced to beating the ever loving crap out of his back with my pillow. 

And then Mr. Snoop -the only one of us not blind- came back and saw this on the ground:

Yeah, that is a big ol scorpion.  Notice that it is missing something?

Oh yes, that's what you were looking for.  A stinger.  In my adrenaline-fueled beating of my brother, I whacked that sucker right off.

So anyway, the moral of the story is that I'm a hero, obviously.  And Chris went back to his bed on the floor.  And Mr. Snoop said that both Chris and I were brushing imaginary scorpions off of us in our sleep all night long.  You better believe our little nighttime adventure was the source of much laughter all weekend.

The End.