The Game of LIFE

Last night Sean and I decided to preview what our future together holds by busting out our previously unopened game of LIFE.

The Game of LIFE - Classic Version

Right from the get-go, Sean and I had to make some serious decisions. It didn't seem right to play against each other since in reality we are on the same team in the game of life, yet there were only the two of us playing (NOTE: I promise we have friends; they just weren't with us last night). After much deliberation, we came to the conclusion that only one of us should play as us (aka. Sarah and Sean) and the other person should play as an anonymous couple (they could be named Katie and John or Rachel and Mike or Courtney and Albert or Nathan and Kim...any random pairing of a male and female name). Also, by having one of us (ie. Sean) play as another couple, it provided an excellent opportunity to compare our successes (and failures) in life with other couples around us.

We had additional difficulties when assessing exactly where we currently fall in the game of LIFE. According to LIFE, being in college puts you at the start of the game, yet being married moves you about 11 more squares down the path. I guess if you average the two, we are halfway across the first bridge. After choosing our cars (mine was blue, Sean's was green) and placing the appropriately colored vaguely people shaped pegs into the cars, we began.

To catch us up to where we both currently are in life, Sean and I both chose the college route (we felt the few extra squares were worth it). Luckily, we each got $3,000 dollars in scholarships and only had to pay $5,000 in tuition, leaving us with $2,000 each that we had to pay back in loans. I wish real life was like that. Upon graduation, we promptly got married. Sean and I realized we did our honeymoon wrong because instead of going to Europe, we should have bought $60,000 in horses! Oops. There also seems to be a bit of confusion in the game of LIFE because after marriage there isn't a path that leads back to college. Clearly the game is wrong and not our lives.

Proposed additional square for the Game of Life to make it more realistic.

At this point the game of LIFE turned into a predictor of our future.

Exactly 11 squares after marriage, Sean and I will be buying a house. We can then expect our first child to be a girl, and apparently this will occur 6 squares after our house purchase. 13 squares later, we'll have another girl and that will be it on the children front. We're not sure what the conversion is between squares and years, but we're hoping it's not one to one. Otherwise I'll be...old...when we finally buy a house and have children. On the other hand, I don't want the conversion to be too skewed the other direction because that would just freak me out.

Now, when I played LIFE with my sisters, we never invested in auto insurance. It seemed like a waste of a perfectly good $1,000. In fact Katie, Madison, and I pretty much ignored all the insurance and stock options offered. In real life, after the most recent car-related incident where two of my car windows were broken, I'm rather glad that I have chosen to invest in car insurance. Therefore, for the first time ever in the game of LIFE, I paid that $1,000 to buy auto insurance for Sean and I, just to be safe. I'm not sure that was a good idea though. Although I'm a very careful driver, I can expect to become much more careless in the future. After half way along the path, I lose my auto insurance for reckless driving, wasting a perfectly good $1,000.

Along the way Sean and I will inherit a skunk farm from my uncle and have to pay $20,000 to get rid of it. Thinking about my uncles, two come to mind. My Uncle Jeff is a farmer. Although he doesn't farm plants, how much difference can there really be between corn and soy beans and skunks? The other uncle, Uncle Danny, has no connection to farming, but he is just weird enough to buy a skunk farm. This is the uncle who gave my cousin a book about scary clowns this Christmas.

Aforementioned Uncle's Skunk Farm

Things were going well for the other couple in the other car when, out of nowhere, there loomed an unexpected threat.

Lurking

First Strike

Ensuring there are no survivors

After recovering from what can only be known as the Great Cat Incident, we and the other couple continued our way (a little more cautiously and a little more warily) down the path of life.

After climbing Mount Everest, helping homeless children, and winning a Nobel Prize, Sean and I will eventually make it to the Day of Reckoning. There someone (God?) will pay us $48,000 per child, we will assess our riches, and decide to become millionaires. We then will choose a grand retirement home/mansion (I actually have two picked out already: one on on top of Lake Travis in Texas and the other in St. Louis, Missouri) where we will retire in style.

The other couple did well too but not quite as well.  In the end, it isn't how much money you have that is important as long as you have more than everybody else.

Rules for a Happy Marriage

Yesterday, Sarah and I celebrated our “one-half-iversary.” Since we have been married a full six months, which is considerably longer than many celebrity marriages, we feel that gives us enough credibility to write about what steps you should take to make your marriage as happy as ours.

Sarah and Sean’s Rules and Guidelines for a Happy Marriage:

1. Go Dancing. Take dance lessons together, go swing dancing, learn to salsa, waltz around the living room, etc… Be advised, though, refrain from polkaing. It will only lead to a fight where you both stomp off the dance floor.
2. Exercise Together. You are never uglier than immediately following a three-mile run. Your spouse will then truly appreciate how you look all put together.
3. Pucker Down when Under the Weather. Not kissing your spouse when you are sick is the sweetest thing you can do for them.
4. Do Crossword Puzzles Together. DO NOT have a crossword puzzle competition to see who can do the same puzzle fastest because it will ONLY end in anger.
5. Get a Pet. Deciding whose turn it is to clean up whatever just came out of the cat is a good exercise in communication and compromise. (Example: “Dear, I cleaned up the feces last time, so I feel it is your turn to take care of the regurgitated food.”)
6. Remain the Same Sizes Proportionally. If your wife gains/loses weight, you husbands are obligated to gain/lose proportionally the same amount. That way you will always remain the same sizes relative to each other as when you first married.
7. Find Common Interests. It could be anything really, like making fun of people you don’t know behind their back or tormenting the cat or volunteering at a soup kitchen. Anything goes as long as you’re enjoying it together.
8. Listen to Each Other. Take time to listen even if your husband is discussing the coefficient of thermal expansions of aluminum or your wife is talking about the evolution of suction feeding in otariids.
9. Find Television Shows that You Both Enjoy. You can enjoy spending time together that doesn’t involve explaining that Dexter is not real and dealing with the subsequent nightmares.
10. Learn the Other Person’s Weird Rules. Taking time to shut the cupboard doors or refraining from storing the tomatoes in the fridge can smooth over many small disagreements.
11. Start a Blog Together. This is an excellent way to have your wife criticize your syntax and punctuation. This will make you a better writer.
12. Always Kiss Goodnight. There is no funny story to go along with this, it is just a good idea… except when it violates number 3.

Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head's Epic Battle: Dinosaurs vs. Robots

Sean and I had our first serious argument as a married couple yesterday.

We were in line to check-out at IKEA, and, of course, had chosen the line with the slowest cashier in the entire store.  Just our luck.  Sean, who had been sick all weekend, was getting cantankerous because his medicine was wearing off and his cough was coming back in full force.  In addition, I was hungry because I hadn't eaten lunch, and it was now 3:16 p.m.  As part of my heritage as a female in my family, when I get hungry, I get extremely grouchy until I get food into my system.  These were the conditions of our first fight.

The argument started innocently enough when I came up with a brilliant idea.

Sarah:  "I have a proclamation!  A long, long, long, long time from now, if we have a son, we should design his room with a dinosaur theme."

Sean:  "Not robots?"

And so it began.

Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head, who took an extended vacation after their debut in our Wedding Thank You's album (flickr.com/photos/adventuresofsarah) agreed to act it out for us.  

Mrs. Potato Head has chosen her weapons:
A ray gun and a potato masher (convenient since she's fighting a fellow spud)

Sarah:  "No, dinosaurs!  Not robots.  Dinosaurs are so cool, and what little boy doesn't love dinosaurs?  It would be so cute!"

Mr. Potato Head chose his trusty Lightsaber
and Darth Tater costume

Sean: "What little boy doesn't love robots?"

Two 'taters, sizing each other up

Sarah:  "All little boys love dinosaurs because dinosaurs are better than robots!  How many boys have the names of all robots memorized?"

Dinosaurs are clearly winning

Sean:  "Robots are awesome!  I love robots."

Robots have the upper Lightsaber

Sarah:  "No, dinosaurs!"

Sean:  "You don't want to promote engineering to our future son?"  

Sarah:  "No, I want to promote science."

Sean:  "Wait, engineering is science!"

Sarah:  "Okay, I have a compromise.  What if we have dinosaurs evolving into robots as you go around the room!?!"

Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head agree to a truce...For now

Sean:  "That is a brilliant idea.  I am so glad you are my wife.  You are so perfect, great, and wonderful.  Everything you say is right."  (Sean says he doesn't remember saying this, but remember, he was sick.)

And so our first argument as a newlywed couple ended.

Hats, hats, and more hats!

Fall semester was quite busy what with moving across the country, starting graduate school, and exploring San Diego.  In my free time, though, I crocheted a wee bit.  


Here are some of my creations:

Winnie the Dad..I mean Pooh

Nick vs. the Grizzly Bear...
Looks like the bear is winning as it is eating his head!

Katie is just monkeying around in her monkey hat!

  

Madi got a giraffe hat because she's super tall
...or because giraffes are one of her favorite animals!

Heather has on a hippo hat
(I couldn't say Heather the Hippo or Hippo Heather because neither sound very nice)

I feel wise...because I'm an owl!

I love my husband alotter!

A family of mad hatters!

I think I'm going to take a break from hats for a little while.  


Now, on to scarves!

Cat Feathers!!

Zorro is a laid-back cat. He takes pleasure in simple things in life and is never in much of a hurry to do anything. He is extremely patient and good natured and has never once lashed out violently or even hissed in spite of Sarah and me perpetually tormenting him (like tickling his feet while he sleeps). Through and through he is a laid-back cat.

If I had to make a list of Zorro’s top ten favorite things to do, it would go something like this:

1. Eating
2. Sleeping in a warm lap
3. Getting Pet
4. Sleeping on the back of the sofa
5. Chewing on ribbon
6. Sleeping in the basket of pillows and blankets
7. Observing insects from a safe distance
8. Finding treasures under the oven – treasures typically being things he pushed under there in the first place
9. Sleeping on notes/open books/homework/anything Sean or Sarah might be trying to read or study
10. Shredding unopened bags of chips then knocking them off the counter

(Not quite making the top 10, but a close runner up is making direct eye contact with Sean from across the room while using the litter box)

Zorro enjoying his 4th favorite activity.

As you can see, stalking, hunting and killing things do not fall into Zorro’s favorite things. We had a mouse in our last apartment and I am pretty sure Zorro let him have free run of the place. He is definitely a cat, but a lot of times I think of him more as a cat stuffed animal that just happens to be alive.

The last week Sarah and I were in San Diego before winter break, I was doing some last minute Christmas shopping and ended up next to Petco. Filled with holiday cheer, I decided that I would go into Petco and select a Christmas present for Zorro. The act of selecting a toy from the cat toy aisle could be a blog entry in itself (I found myself thinking, “If I were a cat, is this something I would want to play with?”), but ultimately I settled on what I will refer to as the “feather wand” which can best be described as a handful of blue and green feathers glued to the end of a car antenna.

Occasionally, when he is not sleeping or eating, Zorro will be playful, but it typically comes in bursts. One minute he is sleeping, then suddenly he is attacking my computer cord, and then almost magically he is asleep again. I had reservations about buying the feather wand at all (a staggering $4.37) because Zorro might never play with it at all (just like his scratching post). I needn’t have worried.

When I brought the feather wand out to play with the first time, Zorro changed into a completely different cat. I have never seen a more surprising transformation; his normally docile, somewhat glazed-over eyes became clear and sharp - the eyes of a killer. The feather wand needed to die and Zorro would stop at nothing to make sure it was his little cat paw that landed the final blow, the kitty coup de grace. In the two days of playing (before we left for Colorado and Illinois; see Snowboarding and the Contemplation of Death and Rollerskating: Not Just For Children) Zorro never tired of attacking the feather wand, and when Sarah or I eventually tired of twirling said wand, Zorro always looked a little disappointed and a little like he was vowing to finish the job next time.

The cold, steely gaze of a killer.

Upon returning to San Diego, I had completely forgotten about the feather wand and I figured Zorro had as well (since he spent the break away from the apartment too)… apparently he had not.

Thursday evening, while I was packing to return to Austin for a wedding, I found the feather wand. The feathers had been systematically removed from the end of the wand, so all that remained was the part that looked like a car antenna and a little blue fuzz. At some point between Wednesday and Thursday Zorro found the feather wand’s hide out (which was cunningly located on the kitchen counter) and proceeded to finish his vendetta once and for all. I looked for the feathers that must surely be scattered around the apartment somewhere (possibly under the oven for later treasure discovery), but there were none to be found – I am pretty sure that is because not only did Zorro mercilessly pluck the feather wand, he ate the feathers too.

Maybe Zorro is not as laid back as I initially thought.

Rollerskating: Not Just For Children

Countless birthday parties of my childhood were held at Playland Skates, a roller rink on the other side of town which had a giant bunny painted on the side.  Between my two sisters and I, we spent a lot of time at that roller skating rink.  

But, it had been awhile since I'd last been rollerskating.  Correction: It had been quite awhile since Daniel, Sean, or I had been rollerskating (independently or together).  Rollerskating, in my mind, had been associated primarily with childhood and not something you do after the age of...well, whatever the age is when you stop having birthday parties where your friends leave with party favors.

Only a week or so ago, we were up in the mountains at the YMCA camp with the Kienles, and the weather ensured that it was too wet to go hiking and too dry to go snowshoeing or skiing.  So, needing to do something active, Sean, Daniel, and I ended up at the roller rink--one of the only activities open in the winter at YMCA camp.  When we walked in, the roller rink was completely deserted, affording us the unique opportunity to use all of the available space and play around as we liked.  This, as you know, is usually impossible when you are surrounded by crowds of people, falling children, and -limbo participate-ers, and hokey-pokey-ers (which has characterized all of my previous roller skating experiences).  After ascertaining that they had Sean's shoe size (size 14) in roller skates, we began roller skating for the first time in years!

We started out slowly...

The Not Sure What My Feet Are Doing: Tentatively skating

The Gripper: Holding hands for balance

 But quickly began experimenting...

The Not Quite a Toe Touch: Daniel balancing precariously on one foot
(what looks like a strange growth on his head is me)

The Glide: Awesome one footed gliding

And then became great...

The Roller-Ballet: This involves balancing on the tip of one skate

The Man Triangle:  This involves a certain lack of embarrassment

The Leg London Bridges:  This involves both leg and arm strength

Roller skating is awesome....except for falling, which hurts and leaves bruises, especially when your husband falls on top of you.  

Snowboarding and the Contemplation of Death

I keep waiting to find that one skill/ ability/ sport that I am innately good at.

In my twenty-six years of life, I have been snowboarding twice.  The first time was last December, and the second time was yesterday.  I came away from last year's experience realizing I wasn't instantly good at snowboarding.  Over the course of this past year, I attributed my lack of instant snowboarding ability to several influential factors: 1) not having any previous experience with any downhill snow sports, 2) not having my own cool snowboarding jacket, 3) never having been on a ski lift before, and 4) not having any previous instruction or experience with snowboarding in any form.

How I Spent Last Year

I arrived in Colorado two days ago and was presented with an early Christmas present:  a turquoise snowboarding jacket of my very own.  I now had a cool snowboarding jacket, previous experience with ski lifts and downhill snow sports, and even had some of my very own hands-on experience with snowboarding.

All in all, this year was going to be different.  

Me and my new snowboarding jacket, ready to go

I had a series of immediate successes.  I put on my own snowboarding boots without help.  I sat on the ski lift correctly the very first time.  I didn't wipe out getting off the ski lift at the top of the mountain.  I didn't fall down as soon as I stood up.  Did I have innate talent this year?  It sure seemed like it!

Me, doing well

Unfortunately, that trend did not continue.  While I was able to do pretty well when there were long straight sections with no people, trees, slopes, or bumps, those areas were few and far between.  

I began to start falling, and falling, and then falling some more.  The more I fell, the more tired I became.  The more tired I became, the more I fell.  I soon was spending more time on my butt than up on the snowboard.

Me, not doing well

But, the low moment was yet to come.  The low moment came after a particularly nasty spill in which I ended up laying with my head on the ground facing the top of the mountain (the opposite direction I should have fallen) with my snowboard above me (Luckily, there is no picture of me at this moment.  It was neither graceful nor pretty).  I decided it would take more energy than I had to get back upright and down the stupid mountain.

I heroically told my husband, "Sean, just leave me here.  I'll die in this spot.  It's fine.  Save yourself."  

Much to his credit, he did not leave me, despite my heartfelt insistence that I was done for and that death was preferable to continuing snowboarding.

Through a series of rolling, butt-sliding, hopping, a few glorious moments of snowboarding, more hopping, pushing, walking with the snowboard in my arms, and then (in the last final, undignified moments) riding the ski lift down the mountain, I finally made it to the bottom.    

It was pretty clear to my husband, the guy who let us ride down the ski lift, the nice older man who gave me helpful (yet ultimately useless) advice, and the numerous people who passed me on the slopes that snowboarding was not something I was naturally good at.

But, after a couple of cups of hot chocolate, a sandwich, and a warm car ride home, I was not so sure. I'm pretty sure that there were some factors that brought about my downfall (not being acclimated to the altitude, not having gloves that kept out water, not being able to get off the ski lift without falling)...

In conclusion, I don't think we can rule snowboarding out quite yet.  I pretty sure next year is going to be my year.