Monday BASH!!

today i'm going to accept the norm, go with society, not buck the trend, but embrace it. yes, i'm talking about the new era of texting. i no that im not the best at it, but i feel like i need to start somewhere. so here it is without any capitilization or other rules of grammer. i don't really understand texting, or why it's such a hit. i can understand the brevity of just sending a text reminder, im L8. w84it, oicu812, etc etc etc

however, when did we come to the point of writing thesis papers, and business reports using this new vocabulary and grammer set? it's like i went to bed in 2003 and woke up in 2008. it's madness!

Earlier this year, my younger brother Raymond was in town. He lives in Bethel, which we should all realize is fairly remote, and difficult to get to. Of which so are several eateries, the main populace of dining experience is limited to Korean versions of Chinese, American, and Italian. Although for good measure, Bethel does have a Subway. (Owned by Koreans.)

So Raymond is in Anchorage. The capital of society in Alaska. Here we have 5-Star restaurants. We have local mom and pop diners. We have authenitic ethnic foods. So when Raymond arrives, and I pick him up, I ask: Where would you like to eat?

Raymond - "Either Subway or someplace with Mongolian Beef or Chicken Tonkatsu. . . . what?"

So we're at an all-you-can eat Oriental buffet. I start to look around and wonder. . . how much soy sauce is there in the world? Would we be able to fill the Loch Ness with soy sauce? What about one of the Great Lakes? There must be millions of gallons of Soy Sauce, not only where it's made, but just in our refigerators. I mean, I think we have one or two bottles of soy sauce ourselves. Then there's the little ketchup packets, filled with soy sauce. My mind starts to become bottled by my new discovery.

So the other day - Amber decides to makes herself some lunch. The boys and I are doing our own thing, not making any big messes or pending disasters. Things are somewhat Zen like. . . then Amber asks: "Would anyone like a sandwich or green salad?"

Boys: "FOOD! YES!!"

Amber then lets out this monstrous roar!

"Why didn't anyone say anything while I had all the food out on the counter?!?!??!?"

I look at Caleb.

Caleb looks at me.

We connect. Nod. Silence.

We look at Dylan, who is as Isaac, bathed in glory, going to his father Abraham:
"I just want green salad, no a sandwich, no green salad." Dylan - such a pure, pure boy. It was nice getting to know him.

Amber continues the exorcism. " I had everything out - why didn't someone say that they would like lunch? I'm supposed to bend to your every whim, while I. I!! slave - and you .. . (seething with all that is from the underworld) YOU!!! just sit there?!?!?!"

"Just a salad, no sandwich." Dylan says.

Amber regains composure, mumbles something under her breath about opening her mouth, and I believe actually speaking in tongues at this point.

"There! Here are your sandwiches and green salads!"

"Thank you dear, my love." I say and run away.

"Thanks mom. I love you." Caleb says.

"Where's my sandwich?" Dylan's final words.