Busy, but not too busy for laser tag

Hey.  Remember me?

Yeah, I used to post stuff here.

Stuff like how I walked around town with my fly wide open every other day.

Or how Corey thinks pee comes from a uterus.

Those were the good ol' days.

Now I've got a million things going on all at once and writing out a blog post has fallen below such crucial activities as performing the duties for which I'm paid, keeping myself alive and smelling good, and watching Seinfeld.

(it relaxes me, don't judge.)

And then there's the planning of a major fundraiser, making sure my dog is walked and psycho-free, and massive felt ball production also keeping me from sharing the most intimate and ridiculous details of Corey's and my life.

Sor-ry.

From now on I'll try to leave little tid-bits while I sort through the flim-flam:

Last Saturday was laser tag day for my mom's sewing class.

You know I love laser tag.

It was my idea.

And you know I'm not exactly 28 years old.

More like 12.

So we had a blast.  There were nine of us: five kids, two parents, and two "adults."

I use the word "adult" loosely when referring to my sister Kimberlie and myself.

We all played, along with a 10-year-old boy's birthday party guests.

There were alliances.  There were strategies.  And there were team meetings.  People, we played to win, and those boys knew how to win. 

Sadly, the girls' best strategy was to follow a single member of the other team the entire time. 

Eh, they're still learning how to fight.

Because it's not already in their genes (ahem).

(that was a probably too vague reference to my disapproval of women in combat...we're lovers not fighters, but i digress)

Afterward we stopped by Pizza Hut for stuffed crust pizza, soda, heavy duty hand washing, and a "you don't look almost 30" from our waitress (thanks shirley, and thanks mom for feeling the need to tell strangers how old your children are).

Pizza was directly followed by a walk in the park and Coldstone ice cream.

In conclusion:  Best.  Day.  Ever.

And yet, I can't remember a time when I've been more tired.

Being 12 is exhausting.