labor day.

guess what’s a kind of fun game that we were forced into? having no money. no, seriously…no money.

when we got married, we joined our financial forces (…my bank statement was -33 cents…oops…!) and opened up a new bank account. we ordered fancy new cards and set up secret passwords and signed a bunch of papers…and then two weeks later, we found out that our cards were sent to a random person who 1. guess our passwords and 2. spent $600 on philly cheese steaks and other some such things. long story short(er), our bank account is now frozen and under investigation…great password, no?

so for labor day, we were in search of something free. and mildly entertaining. but mostly free.

after much internet-surfing, we decided on oktoberfest at snowbird; a festival centered almost entirely on sauerkraut and bratwursts…my type of party!

two hours and some serious wrong-turns later, we weren’t at oktboerfest. or even snowbird. but we were in pretty brighton, utah and brighton, utah has public restrooms so brighton, utah it was! we determined there are about three things to do in brighton, utah for free (brighton, utah is a firsty-lasty, don’t you think? kind of like joss stone or jay zee). using the restroom is one of the three.

so romantic drive through the canyon it was! and oh! was it romantic! we were hand-in-hand, reminiscing about our shotgun courtship and old arrested development episodes…

and then a wasp flew in through the window and landed in my cleavage and stung me repeatedly.

the end.

p.s. happy one month to jeff and i! what a feat, no? we had a waffle feast this morning to celebrate! …and also to eat seeing as we really only have bisquick left in our pantry. fingers crossed our account unfreezes!

p.p.s. is jeff’s new haircut kind of hilter youthy? morgan told him so and i am kind of on the fence. except for i am more on hitler-youthy side.

p.p.p.s. happy labor day!

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5 responses

  1. Dare I say, I think you do the top knot as well as if not better than the top knot queen herself, miss Naomi. I spill hot drinks down my cleavage many more times than I like to admit but a bee sting? OUCH.

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