I was sitting around a few nights ago googling inspiration for my Halloween costume, when this conversation occurred. (or something to the effect of this)
I thought I’d share since it’s a great representation of what I mean by L-Bonics.
Me: Ok. Judging from these pictures I need black pants, a red jacket with tails, a white shirt, white gloves, and a top hat. The top hat is going to be the Coup de… (silence as I struggle to figure out what I’m trying to say)
Micah: Yes??
At this point, I have no idea what word to insert after Coup de. I know that I’m trying to express the idea that the top hat will be the finishing touch to my costume. It’ll deliver that final blow of awesomeness and pull it all together. I reverted to a tactic that usually works pretty well.
Me: Coup de (insert incomprehensible muttering, said very quickly and quietly)
Micah: What was that? (knowing full well I have no idea what I’m talking about)
Me: I said Coup de WHOA!
Sometimes you just have to embrace it. And actually, I think it works better than the Coup de Gras I was searching for. And are you wondering about my Halloween costume? I’ll be posting the pictures soon!
On recent Saturday mornings, I’ve been waking-up, grabbing my phone and immediately searching for sectional couches on Craigslist. We moved into a new house in August. Since then I’ve become obsessed with the idea that the only way our living room will be perfectly configured and livable is with the addition of a sectional sofa. Unfortunately, sectionals are super expensive new, so of course I turned to my old pal Craig. My general consensus after a few months of searching was that any sectional that was in our budget must be plaid, pleather, microfiber or just plain hideous.
As I browsed options Saturday morning, I found an ad for a yard sale that mentioned a sectional. There wasn’t a picture, but I was inexplicably drawn to this sale. So much in fact, that I hopped-out of bed (usually at that early hour of the morning the only place I’m hopping to is the bathroom) and threw on clothes. I was ready to go. Micah, completely confused and wondering why I was buzzing around the house at 8 am like a maniac while berating him to hurry-up and get with the program, agreed to escort me on my mission.
We arrived at the yard sale, and as we walked-up I scanned the items looking for it. No sectional to be found. No wait, what’s that??? I had to get a closer look so I bee-lined it toward what appeared to be….EXACTLY WHAT I WAS LOOKING FOR. Tripping over boxes and pushing other yard salers/potential sectional buyers out of the way, I finally made it the few feet to my destination.
I kept my cool (for the most part), but quickly realized that the guy was hell-bent on getting a certain price and in fact, had been pimping out the sectional all morning. I presented an offer, but no deal. He took my number to give me a call later that day if he reconsidered. And miraculously, I didn’t do something completely within character such as dramatically throwing myself on the sectional in an attempt to thwart would-be buyers, upping the offer until I paid wayyyyy more than it was worth, or driving around removing all signs directing sectional buyer competitors to said yard sale. Nope. Nothing crazy. I left the matter in the hands of Fate.
And I managed to enjoy the rest of my day. Typically, my brain would be on overdrive trying to figure out how I was going to make it happen. Somehow, I just knew it was meant to be. And later that night, I got a call back. The guy was ready to negotiate. Voila. The sectional was mine. And I learned a valuable lesson about myself. I just might be psychic…
Ahhhhhh, bliss. No microfiber, pleather or plaid in sight!
It was on a camping trip. (That one time I brushed my teeth with lip gloss.) It was a girls’ camp-out and we’d spent the night chatting, laughing and enjoying some drinks. It was late by the time the party wound down and we scattered off to bed. I had one more thing to do before I crawled into my sleeping bag. I had to brush my teeth. I did not relish going to bed with a layer of scum from snacks, drinks and camp fire on my teeth. I found my bag in my darkened tent (my headlamp was out of batteries so I could barely see) and rifled around until I found my travel toothbrush and toothpaste. Ah-ha! My dentist would be so proud. I wet my toothbrush and spread an ample amount of toothpaste onto the brush. I began to vigorously brush, feeling pretty smug that although I was exhausted and maybe a tad tipsy, I still had my wits about me. My first thought was that the toothpaste had a weird texture. My next thought was that the toothpaste had a very unique taste. Almost like…my brain struggled to catch-up and identify the taste. Lip gloss???? Gahhhhhhh. What the heck????? Yep. Somehow in the dark the lip gloss tube felt very similar to the toothpaste tube. One ruined toothbrush and some very soft gums later, and I certainly was not feeling so smug!
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