They're only called wizard sleeves because of the magic that happens inside.

Whenever I'm drinking, blogging sounds like such a good idea. I think it's because when I'm drunk, the whole everybody-is-funnier rule even applies to myself. So, here I sit, drinking homemade margaritas (which, I have to say, blow Chilis out of the water...but, sadly, don't live up to the perfect margarita standard that Applebees has set) and it was either blogger or youporn. If I type quickly, I may have time for both.

This weekend has been the absolute shit and, because I hate my job enough to have extended Labor Day weekend to five days, I still have another day of relaxation staring me in the face. And I'm all, yeah, you want a piece of this? Let's sleep in together tomorrow, day off.

I went up to Tower on Friday to acclimate myself to range living a little before Red arrived. Nobody was home when I got there, so I read a bunch and you know I can never go wrong with reading a bunch. Knowledge is power. Mom and Dad came home and we had leftover chili for dinner and poof, there went that three-day healthy eating kick I was on. Seriously, Mom? M&M bars, cake, blueberry muffins, oatmeal cookies, and peanuts with candy corn? You obviously want me to never again fit into my pants from last summer.

To burn off a few of the calories, Dad and I took the dog for a walk on the trail between Soudan and McKinley park. I had not been on that trail for probably ten years and it blows my mind that Dad walks the dog there now. What happened to the daily walks behind the house, packing heat, checking the progress of the tree farm? A paved trail now? Really? Something seems off. I think he does it to wear down the dog's monster claws, but she walks on the side, in the dirt anyway.

Red and Darren arrived around 10pm on Friday and Darren's reaction to me was much colder than usual. I assumed he received the "bite me, bitch" flair that I almost regretted sending him, but after spending the weekend with him, I'm not so sure. Or EVERYBODY sent him "bite me, bitch" flair. He was all, "what are we doing today?" Very needy. We were all, "Darren, this is like your seven hundred eighty fifth trip here and you should know by now that we just play Skipbo, sing old country songs obnoxiously loud, and think about taking a shower. We thought you knew that? Maybe if you'd sprung this dissatisfcation with the status quo on us sooner, we could have scheduled a tour of the funeral home, but it's too late for that now." Fortunately, the Wilderness has unlimited balls at the driving range for $11...something he tried to get one of us to call Fortune Bay to find out. As if we give a shit about golf balls. Psht! Our ipods are chock full of Randy Travis. Don't even get me started.

So, that's pretty much what we did the whole weekend. We sang poorly and played skipbo and ate bad (but oh so good) food and read. Red and I may also have had a contest at one point to see who could fart loud enough to wake mom up. For once in my over-competitive life, I'm proud to say I lost and, therefore, maintained my strong sense of femininity.

Yesterday, on the way back to our respective homes, we stopped at Mike's house, not to see Mike, but to see Taylor, the cutest child ever. It still blows my mind that a child that cute is half Mike....especially because she appears to be more like 95% Mike and I cringe every time I turn my back on her, like she's going to throw a shoe at my head.

Red and I took her outside to play and I know so little about my brother's child rearing habits that I asked if it's okay for her to run around the yard in bare feet. Umm, duh. I didn't ask, however, if it was okay for her to pick gross apples off the ground and eat them because I was sure that was forbidden. Instead, Red snuck the apple away from her and I taught her how to spit it out. Turns out the spitting lesson was a waste of time, though she's a very fast learner. Every time she goes outside, she picks an apple and eats it. Once I learned it was the norm, it became the cutest thing I have ever seen. Oh, Taylor. I should maybe never procreate because I fear I'll be the most high-strung parent to ever live.

I'm going bowling now. Nic must feel the need to be put in his place by a girl again.