DIY Episode III: Revenge of the Chairs

If you've been following this saga, you know that a few months ago, I bought some chairs at an estate sale. You can read about our first two rounds with said chairs here and here. 

This was round three. 

95. Beg your extremely handy husband for help. Admit he was right: that you had no idea how much work this project would be and SOS PLEASE SOMEONE HELP ME. 
96. Pick a day that is really, really hot. You'll want to make this experience as unpleasant as possible. 
97. Invent an excuse like, "Just let me clean up the kitchen and I'll be right out!" while your husband gets started on the real work. 
98. Look at the window and feel pangs of guilt as you watch him measure the drop cloth seat back cover and cut the batting. 
99. Try and decide whether you feel guilty enough to actually go outside. 
100. You do. Go outside. Admire his work. 

101. Listen as he gives you your instructions for cutting the rest of the drop cloth seat backs and cushion covers. 
101. Ask him if he's sure he wants you to cut the pelts - wouldn't he be better at it? 
102. Sigh as he confirms that you are definitely cutting the pelts, and would you please stop calling them "pelts" because a pelt is animal skin? 
103. Ignore him and get started on pelt number one. 
104. Grab what are, somehow, despite having taught school and bought your own school supplies, THE ONLY SCISSORS IN THE HOUSE. 
105. Make sure these scissors are nice and dull. You definitely don't want to make this easy on yourself. They should be about as sharp as one of your back molars. 
106. Measure out how big your pelts should be. Consider using the old seat cover as a template. 
107. Remember that time you found a single dried Band-Aid next to a single dried Golden Graham stuck to these chairs and decide to wing it in order to avoid touching that nasty thing.

Hard pass. 

108. Rip and tear at the drop cloth with your molar scissors. 
109. ...for what seems like A FREAKIN' LIFETIME. 

110. Look over to discover that your husband has successfully covered a seat back. Get invigorated at this progress. 

111. Go help him by staple gunning the drop cloth to the chair. 
112. Only get a little mad at him when he pretends that you've stapled his finger to the chair, which you totally should have seen coming, but still - the man is a dentist, losing a finger isn't that funny JORDAN. 

113. Go back to your place on the chain gang: molar scissors.
114. To confirm your measurements, place the old seat bottom on top of your newly cut seat cover. Admire your work, but know that your husband would've cut everything perfectly straight and your work is inferior. 

115. Temporarily stop progress because of a dog who apparently isn't getting enough attention right now. 

116. Obviously pet your dog because come on lookatthatface. 
117. Then, keep cutting. The cutting. The cutting never ends. 

118. Since there aren't any fun articles to read (on broccoli rabe or anything else), assess the current construction situation on your street with disdain. 

Just to clarify, that's one next door and one across the street. Are you jealous? 

119. To entertain yourself while cutting, imagine ways that you could drive this construction crew away. 
120. Decide that the best way to get rid of them is to somehow convince them that this neighborhood is haunted.
121. Delight yourself with fantasies of moving their tools around and blaming on a ghost. 
122. Imagine you and your dog both going over, covered in white sheets, and just standing in a corner until somebody notices you and either calls the police or runs screaming from the structure. 
123. Decide maybe none of that is as good an idea as you think it is. 
124. Complete the pelt project. Finally. 
125. Stop for the day because it's about to rain. 

126. After church the next day, stop by Lowe's. 
127. Beg your husband to get some ice cream with you because the social media gods have declared it National Ice Cream Day. 
128. Bother him until he good-naturedly relents because he, too, loves ice cream. 
129. Pull up to Chick-Fil-A for some of that sweet soft serve AND REMEMBER THEY'RE CLOSED BECAUSE #SUNDAY KILL ME. 
130. Gather your strength and go without. 
131. Arrive back home, where it's time to paint these suckers. 
132. As usual, find something inside to busy yourself while your husband is being an angel and working hard. 

133. Once you go outside, realize you have unwittingly taken the worst job by handing your husband the painting job. 
134. While your husband is painting, you have to go through the other two chairs with the dental explorer and get all the grime and grout and dust and disgustingness out of there before they're painted. 
135. Consider flinging yourself from the roof. 
136. Decide to just get on with it. 

137. Discover that you actually really like this job. 
138. Wonder if it makes you a sick person that you relish in removing imperfections. 
139. Wonder if maybe you should've been a dermatologist or a dental hygienist. 
140. Resolve that it's not too late, but also remember that there's a lot of math and science involved in those jobs. 
141. Remember that time you got an 8 on an AP Chemistry test. 
142. Reconsider the whole "medical career" thing. 
143. Turn your attention to the foam padding for the seats. 
144. Discover that the seat bottoms are not, in fact, squares - so your husband will have to Frankenstein them together. 
145. After all that, they still have about an inch and a half of wood hanging off the back, so watch your husband use upholstery glue to made a piece that fits. 

146. Think to yourself that after all this work, if anyone comes to your house and spills spaghetti sauce on the chairs, that you will probably actually murder them. 
147. Briefly consider not ever inviting anyone to your house again. 
147. Add another coat of paint to the two chairs your husband painted, then add two coats to the remaining two (which have now been scraped of imperfections).
148. Cover one seat entirely. 

149. Stand back and admire your work. After a coat of varnish and the nailheads, these things will be just about done. 
150. As you're cleaning up, notice that the text you sent your husband (about how he sent you an old copy of the grocery list and that there's a newer one on the legal pad and could he please take a picture of that one) is sitting, dormant, on his phone. Realize this is why you had to wing it, and also why a box of chocolate covered pretzels ended up in the buggee. Whoops! You didn't have a list, it's not your fault. Decide to forgive him since he's basically done this entire project for you. Go cook him a big meal in appreciation. 

DNR - JTI: Construction.

As usual, credit where it's due for the "DNR - JTI" idea, invented by the much cooler and funnier Mollie Erickson, whose blog can be found here. 

Dear Construction, 
You and I have a complicated relationship. In Jordan's and my first and second homes, we've unwittingly moved in next door to what would be a construction site. This year, as an added bonus, we moved not just next door to a construction site, but also across the street from one. By "complicated," I of course mean you make me want to pluck out my eyeballs out and throw them at you. DNR - JTI.

Dear Nailgun, 
sssssssFOOM. sssssFOOM. sssssFOOM. This is the soundtrack of my life. It scores my laundry-doing, my bed-making, my tidying up, my dinner-cooking, my bill-paying. I used to be scared of Javier Bardem in No Country For Old Men. Now I just want him to come cow-tranquilize me between the eyes so I can escape you, nailgun. It's not your fault, I'm sure you do a perfectly good job at what it is you do. But...I hate you.  DNR - JTI. 

Dear Head Guy of the Guys Pouring Concrete,
We live on a one-way street. You have chosen to park your very large truck in the middle of said street, and not in the gravel driveway that was, I should point out, built into the construction site for the express purpose of housing large vehicles like yours. When I politely ask you to park there instead, you look at me, wink, grin, and say, "No." I really should be congratulating you, because I don't think any one person has ever made me so instantly full of white-hot rage. If you think that because I'm a girl I can't come down there and kick your ass, you haven't seen Mulan. DNR - JTI. 

Dear 7:30 in the Morning,
I used to love you, 7:30. You were a sweet time full of soft morning sunlight and coffee smell. You were a gentle nudge into the rest of the day. Now, you are the sound of the "reverse" warning for backhoe digging up the lot across the street. BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP WAKE UP MARY CATHERINE THE BACKHOE IS HERE GET UP WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO TODAY I BET IT'S A LOT HAVE YOU EVEN PLANNED WHAT YOU'RE COOKING FOR DINNER I BET YOU HAVEN'T YOU'LL BE LATE FOR PURE BARRE IF YOU DON'T GET UP RIGHT NOW  TOM HANKS PROBABLY NEEDS TO GO OUT WHAT IS THE MEANING OF LIFE HAVE YOU FIGURED IT OUT YET BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP DNR JTI BEEP BEEP BEEP.

Dear Tree-Clearing Team,
You guys really are the worst. You stole our shade. You cut down the trees where all the bear cubs used to play. I don't mean to go all FernGully here, but you should really see that movie. It might change some things for you. DNR - JTI. 

Dear Big Giant Man,
I think you're a high-ranking person on this job, even though you flick your cigarettes everywhere. Every time I drive past your worksite, you look at my car and shake your head disapprovingly. Why is that? Is it because you assume I am not very cool? Is it because you think I'm a snobby little blonde girl? Is it because of that time you had your truck and trailer parked next door, but it was hanging like two inches into our yard and I asked you to move it? ...okay yeah, it's probably that one. You gotta understand, BGM, that my experience with construction is if we give you guys an inch, before long, you'll be chainsawing our porch off for some extra wood. Don't be mad. I really don't like when people don't like me. Can't we make it work? DNR - JTI. 

Dear Bears,
I love that you guys don't care about the construction and will wander down anyway. We were worried all this noise would drive you away, but we should've known better. Y'all are the native members of this neighborhood. You run this shizz. If you really like me, you'll show up in the middle of the day and make all these big tough construction guys, some of whom have been not very nice to me, tee tee in their pants. Check in and I'll point them out. I'd consider it a personal favor. DNR - JTI. 

Dear Future Next-Door Neighbors,
You'll have to forgive me if, when I bring you the customary "Welcome to the Neighborhood" casserole, I accidentally punch you in the teeth. It's going to be a reflex. I won't be able to help it. But I really do hope you like your new home. DNR - JTI (the casserole and the punch in the teeth).

For Your Entertainment.

Okay, so it's mid-week. We're probably slumping, reaching for the weekend, but it's just not quite here yet. 

We need something to make us laugh. 

One day over a year ago, Mom and I were on a big road trip, and unfortunately for her, I found this app called Heliumbooth. I spent conservatively 4 hours entertaining myself (and making her want to drive of a cliff) by making video after video. I thought they'd been lost forever when my hard drive crashed last year, but lo and behold, they survived. 

Like roaches. Because I would deem these videos "roach" quality in terms of entertainment. Like: 

Waaaaaaaay up here is Seinfeld, Curb your Enthusiasm, and the like...

...about right here is "Charlie Bit My Finger..."

...and waaaaaaaaay down here is these videos. (Except pretend they're like down on the floor of wherever you're sitting to read this. Or standing. Whatever works.)

If you watch these and think, "I don't get it." Then you're doing it right. There's nothing to get. They're just absurd characters I made up. 

Still. I don't have anything else to post today, so here they are. Oh God, I hope I still have friends after this. If you think I am a weird loser, you're right. 

SHUT UP AND JUST POST THEM.

Okay.

May Jesus Take the Wheel for you today. Happy Hump Day. 

5 Things: Prayers for the Stanford Case

It is very early. I'm sipping my first cup of coffee as the pink light glows through my window. Today's going to be busy - lots to see and certainly lots to do. But even in this early hour, thoughts are bouncing around in my head.

I'm not foolish enough to think that there hasn't already been enough said - and said better than I could say it - on this topic. I mean, gosh, Joe Biden wrote a beautiful response that everybody should just re-post. The women of Girls made a powerful infomercial about it.  

So in the stillness of this morning, what I've got are prayers. 

For the people at the center of news stories - the villains, the antagonists. For those whose darkest parts have bubbled to the surface; whose names will forever bring to mind a tragic story. Receive our indignation, but make us humble. Help us to wholly and loudly condemn their actions; help us to keep our stones uncast in our pockets. Close our mouths when hateful words are leaping out; keep us mindful that beneath all our floorboards lives a part of ourselves we try to keep hidden, even from You. Narrow our focus on defending those in need; soften our hearts so that we remember that we are in need of so much. Keep angry name-calling out of our words; turn that holy fire into acts of love and prayer. Make the unrepentant penitent - especially when the "unrepentant" includes us. Turn our begrudging hearts to those we don't want to look at directly, who now face the wrath of an unforgiving world. We pray for redemption, for clean hearts, for the brokenness of a world in which acts of violence (and defending those acts of violence) are simply the horrible expressions of the most confused and angriest among us. Make us unrelenting defenders of justice. We pray to the Lord. Lord, in Your mercy - 

For the victims - dragged into the spotlight with no choice in the matter. Our hearts ache. Make us not just spectators, detail-collectors, or gossips - make us people of action. Make us people who say, "I am listening. I am here." We hold these wonderful, blameless, brave, everyday people in mind - we honor their struggle and their tears; we celebrate their triumphs and their speaking out. We don't understand, but open our eyes and our ears to Your children. Help us to be wise enough to know this chapter has been written on the souls of these women, but that they are not this chapter alone. We ask that your presence be known among them, that in their waking and sleeplessness and crying and laughter alike, in their loneliness, whether they've told their stories or locked them away, that they are loved and cherished. We pray to the Lord. Lord, in Your mercy - 

For the cyclists - and the cyclists in all of us. For the Samaritans who stopped and spoke out. These are the people You've called us to be- unafraid of getting entangled with an undesirable situation, and, instead, hurling ourselves toward the center of where it hurts. Forgive us for the many opportunities we've missed, and keep our eyes wide open to see them in the future. However tiny, however huge, we know that "love" is an action verb. Cover us anew with a higher regard for our fellow man than for ourselves. Amplify the voice within each of us that whispers, "How can you help?" Make our days testaments to the love we have shown, because walking alongside You means we stop at every chance we get. Strip us of our money, our clothes, our energy, burn our wicks down for our brothers and sisters. We pray to the Lord. Lord, in your Mercy - 

For women - navigating a world that is unsafe. For women who clutch their keys while walking through a darkened parking lot, who carry a weapon on a walk around the neighborhood, who accidentally leave their pepper spray in the car and feel uneasy all night because of it. For women whose closest friends have become the source of their deepest wounds. For women who have been made to feel that their behavior or their attire was consent enough. For the complicated relationship women have with their bodies after someone has tried to lay claim on it. For the women whose stories go untold because of their color or sexual orientation, and the women whose stories aren't trusted because of their gender. We ask for light in the blackest corners of our world, so that no one has to suffer in anonymity. We pray to the Lord. Lord, in Your mercy - 

For every person who has encountered this story - stumbling across it online or hearing about it on the news. Break our hearts in despair. Sit with us as we cry in confusion. And then, in our sadness, turn our faces toward our sons. In our grief, make us teachers. Give us strong words to use. Speak through our fumbling and discomfort. Use these moments of awkwardness around the dinner table as stakes in the garden; as a strong foundation around which the lives of our children can grow and thrive. Snap us to attention so that we sing the worth of every person at every opportunity. Make "humility" and "respect" and "consent" fall out of our mouths so often that we're met with rolling teenage eyes because they've heard us say it so many times before. Make us blessedly redundant. We pray to the Lord. Lord, in Your mercy - 

Hear our prayer. 

DNR -JTI: Airplanes and Airports.

As always, credit where it's due to Mollie Erickson who invented DNR - JTI on her much funnier blog, found here. 

While traveling to Tulsa for Memorial Day weekend, I was writing this post in my head. 

Dear Person Who Isn't Listening,
I see, despite the multiple reminders from the TSA agent whose job it is to stand near the metal detector and yell this, that you've still failed to remove your laptop from its case until just before your belongings go on the conveyor belt. I'm also willing to bet that you've forgotten to take off your belt and that it's gonna beep. ...yep, there it is! You gotta go back. I want to strangle you. With your belt. So does everyone else.  DNR - JTI. 

Dear Two Small Children and Infant in the Row Behind Us,
I won't lie. I noticed your presence and cringed. I was feeling sorry for myself that I'd have to put up with your wailing screaming tantrums the whole flight. I was even thinking about buying some alcohol from the beverage cart. To my enormous surprise and delight, all three of you fell asleep immediately upon takeoff. Please accept my apologies for judging you. You (and your parents) should get an Awesome Award. DNR - JTI.

Dear Head Flight Attendendant,
I know, I'm seated on an exit row. I'm more than happy to stow my large purse underneath my own seat, since there is no seat in front of me. I do not, as you so passive aggressively put it, need to "partner with the man in front of me to clear the area." No one needs a partner. I'm good. Have a drink. DNR - JTI. 

Dear The Pilot,
I read somewhere that most plane crashes take place during takeoff or landing. You're a real gem for not blowing us up. Seriously, I can't even believe that planes are a thing. You're so good at your job. But maybe get that one flight attendant outta here. DNR - JTI. 

Dear Flying, 
I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever stop dropping my jaw in total wonder over the fact that we are thousands of feet in the air, hurtling through space, sitting in a metal tube. It MELTS MY FEEBLE MIND. I love being alive. DNR - JTI. 

Dear People Collecting Your Belongings at the End of Security, 
Hi. I am very, very late for my flight. In fact, my husband and I will momentarily sprint to our gate and be two of the last four people admitted on board. I also got up at 3 AM in order to drive to the Greenville airport to get on this plane. I'm not feeling super generous. It would really help me out if, instead of standing at the end of the conveyor belt and putting your shoes back on there, you'd be a pal, scoop up all your things and take them somewhere less to re-dress yourself. I know, you're relieved they didn't notice that you packed your > 3 oz. bottle of shampoo. But just celebrate over there, okay? Thanks! DNR - JTI. 

Dear Everyone on the Plane,
Why are you shooting out of your seats when the plane lands? Do you think you're getting outta here any faster because of that? See how this whole aisle is clogged with people? Just sit on down. I don't get it. DNR - JTI. 

Dear Couple Making Out,
So we're all in that lockjam waiting to get off the plane, and you guys are hardcore making out. There are people mere inches from your heads, but that isn't stopping you. Other passengers are looking away with embarrassment, but you don't care. You're goin' for it. And now you're taking a selfie. While making out. I can't decide if I'm grossed out or impressed at your genuine and total lack of shame. I think both. Jordan and I are giggling to hard for me to tell. DNR - JTI. 

Dear Man Across the Aisle, 
Wow. You have a lot of stories. A lot of LOUD stories. A lot of loud, semi-inappropriate stories. I am turning the white noise app on my phone up and putting my earphones in. Except...I can still hear you. With the white noise turned all the way up inside my ears.  DNR - JTI. 

Dear Man Next to the Story-Telling Guy,
I saw you at baggage claim and told you that you get an award for being the most patient passenger on the flight. You smiled and agreed that that guy was loud and verbose, but then touched my arm and looked at me as if to say, "It's okay - sometimes people just need to talk," and wished me a wonderful day. Thanks for reminding me that sometimes we all just need to scream our stories at a person we'll never see again. I think you might have been Jesus. DNR - JTI. 

The Newlywed Game: Jordan and Me

Earlier this week, I saw someone post these questions on Facebook as a really fun way to pass the time on a roadtrip. Well, we accidentally forgot to do them on the way back from Tulsa, so we're doing them now.

We both answered these sets of questions separately and without discussing them or cheating, then read our answers out loud to each other. Jordan did a lot better guessing mine than I did guessing his. Ha! Hope these make you giggle! 

ROUND ONE: I ask and Jordan answers. 

Me: What is something I always say to you? 
Jordan: You call me "Stink!" a lot.  
My answer: "Stink!'

Me: What makes me happy? 
Jordan: Food.
My answer: You and Tom Hanks! And food.  

Me: What makes me sad?
Jordan: Mean people and sad things. Um, more specifically, like...hurt animals and/or dead animals; being away from people you love (or Tom Hanks). 
My answer: Feeling like I'm career-aimless right now. 

What was I as a child?
Jordan: Angsty. 
My answer: You'll say I was angsty. 

How old am I?  
Jordan: How what? You're 27. Of course. 27 years, 4 months, and 14 days old. 
My answer: 27. You better get this right. 

What's my favorite thing to do?
Jordan: *Gives me a look as if to say, "Is this gonna be okay if I say it out loud?"* then says, "Eat? I mean, I'm sorry, but that's true. Also people - you love people." 
My answer: Watch bad TV and hang out with you guys. And blog. And sing. And eat, honestly. 

How tall am I? 
Jordan: Are't you like 5' 5 3/4'' and you tell people you're 5'6''? 
My answer: 5'6''. 

What do I do when you're not around? 
Jordan: Watch bad TV and, uh...text. Um, chores: groceries, cleaning, other inside chores. I guess, also work. 
My answer: Chores and watch trashy TV.

If I become famous, what will it be for?
Jordan: I think writing, honestly.
My answer: Maybe singing or writing? 

What am I good at?
Jordan: What are you good at? You're good at a lot of things, that's not very fair. I mean, how do you start listing, alphabetically or chronologically? (He then went on to say about 5 minutes' worth of REALLY nice things that made me glad we got married.) 
My answer: I guess singing and writing, and maybe cooking? 

What makes you proud of me? 
Jordan: You take really good care of our family. And everyone that meets you loves you! And when you say something really funny. 
My answer: You like that I'm a good cook and that I'm a generally nice person. 

What is my favorite food?
Jordan: Mashed potatoes. 
My answer: Mashed potatoes.

Where is my favorite place to eat?
Jordan: Dining room table. Oh, sorry, I misunderstood. Any Mexican place or any pizza place. Or somewhere expensive. 
My answer: Mexican or pizza. Doesn't really matter where. My standards are very low. 

Where is my favorite place?
Jordan: Home, but that to you is still your parents' house.
My answer: Anywhere my family is. 

How old was I when we met? 
Jordan: 25. Wait. No. 24. 
My answer: 23.

When is our anniversary?
Jordan: August 2nd. 
My answer: 8/2/14

If I could go anywhere, where would it be? 
Jordan: Is it Italy where you want to go so bad? 
My answer: Greece or Italy. 

Do you think you could live with me forever?
Jordan: Yeah, that's what I signed up for. Right?? 
My answer: You're contractually obligated to, so this question is null. 

How do I annoy you? 
Jordan: Do you want the list chronologically or alphabetically? Haha!
My answer: With games like this. 

What is your favorite thing about me?  
Jordan: Your personality. I just like you. 
My answer: You'll say something like, "Your butt - I mean, heart!" 

ROUND TWO: Jordan asks and I answer.  

What is something I always say to you? 
Mary: "Mary..." (in a warning tone because I'm about to accidentally hurt myself somehow.)
Jordan's answer: "Unbelievable."

What makes me happy? 
Mary: Tom Hanks and me. And fishing.
Jordan's answer: Being outside and in the woods. And my little family.

What makes me sad?
Mary: People who can't defend themselves from being picked on or bullied. 
Jordan's answer: People who can't defend themselves getting taken advantage of.

What was I as a child? 
Mary: Independent. 
Jordan's answer: What does this even mean? I've been sitting here for like 5 minutes and can't figure that out. Probably good sometimes and bad sometimes, happy, sad, fun, mean, loud, quiet, etc...

How old am I?  
Mary: 28. 
Jordan's answer: I'm 28. <who the hell doesn't know that IN THE NEWLYWED GAME?! Their own age or their NEW spouse's?!>

What's my favorite thing to do?
Mary: Be outside in nature. And fish. And hang out with us. 
Jordan's answer: Hiking and/or fishing with MC and TH.

How tall am I? 
Mary: You are exactly 6'0''. 
Jordan's answer: 6'0"

What do I do when you're not around?
Mary: Fly fish, mostly. Or watch bad sci fi movies that you know I'll hate.
Jordan's answer: Fish, read, hike... you know, stuff.

If I become famous, what will it be for? 
Mary: Inventing something or being a great teacher later in life. 
Jordan's answer: Probably something dentist-y but I wish it was something more interesting. <Jeez, I can't even be creative in my own fantasy. My power of flight! Oh wait, did I just say that out loud?>

What am I good at? 
Mary: Eye roll because you're good at (and know you're good at) a lot. But I love how good you are at crazy crafting/woodworking, I love your curveball skill of being a great sketch artist, and obviously you're a very good doctor.
Jordan's answer: This is a loaded question - pass.

What makes you proud of me?
Mary: I love how great you are with other people - you can always make a situation fun and make everybody in the room feel comfortable. You're very funny (don't let it go to your head), and I really do admire you as a medical professional. You're very gentle and kind to your patients, but still execute at a very high level. 
Jordan's answer: She sometimes mentions: how hard I work, that I try to be nice to people, <All of these questions seem so ego-stroking. Eesh.>

What is my favorite food? 
Mary: You don't really have favorite food like I do, as in you don't really crave anything ever. But you do love my cooking (tomato soup particularly) and cheesecake. 
Jordan's answer: Don't have one but I enjoy pretty much everything. Maybe just 'good food.'

Where is my favorite place to eat?
Mary: Outside? I don't know. 
Jordan's answer: Same as above. Depends.

Where is my favorite place? 
Mary: Around your family. 
Jordan: Home (in Asheville).

How old was I when we met? 
Mary: 24.
Jordan's answer: 24. 

When is our anniversary? 
Mary: 8/2/14
Jordan's answer: August 2, 2014

If I could go anywhere, where would it be?
Mary: Probably a tour of the National Parks. You would love that. 
Jordan's answer: Some amazing national park with amazing views, but not one specifically. Maybe the Patagonia/Andes of Argentina. Or Switzerland. If domestic, Yosemite National Park or British Columbia.

Do you think you could live with me forever? 
Mary: As you said when we got married, "These rings are like tiny handcuffs." 
Jordan's answer: That's what the contract says.

How do I annoy you?
Mary: You sometimes come and mess with me while I'm cooking, which I hate because I'm too spastic to be trusted not to horribly injure myself. But my big one is BEARD CLIPPINGS IN THE SINK. 
Jordan's answer: I'm grouchy when I'm tired/hungry, I hate traffic, I don't sit-still-and-not-do-things very well.

 What is your favorite thing about me?
Mary: You are kind and tender-hearted despite your acerbic wit and attempts at looking callous sometimes. Hehe! And your height.
Jordan's answer: Hopefully my personality or something along those lines. Also, I'm tall(ish).

HA! Hope you enjoyed this goofiness. Try it out on your spouse or girlfriend/boyfriend - it's actually kind of hysterical. 

Happy Thursday!