Wednesday, April 4, 2012

I wish I had a backyard.

Well, I sort of do. To be clear, I really wish I had a backyard and I kind-of sort-of already have one.

Our backyard-park (Garland Park)
More clarity (and why the hell I seem to be caught up in a tizzy about backyards):
  • Our backyard is a 7' by 9' patch of dirt that for about 25% of the year I attempt to plant grass in and then for the other 75% of the year I watch die. I have probably spent over $1,000 dollars on this 63 square foot patch of land trying to make it be grassy. Dirt 1, Boven 0.
  • Our backyard also has a 10'ish by 9' cement patio.
  • Neither of these entities are large enough to host 75 people for a ceremony and/or reception ("Ohhhh!" you might be saying).
  • Our backyard is a stones throw from the park pictured here, which could possibly sort-of count as our backyard. But it isn't. 
So, to repeat: I wish I had a backyard.

I want this imaginary backyard because I would love to be able to just say, "oh, of course dahhh-ling, we'll just have the soiree in the backyard." No idea why I want to say that or sound like that (if you were able to hear the "dahhling" in your head), but it is what I would like. Trying to re-create your own homey, down to earth, backyard-esque wedding in a stranger's house is not only not the same thing (at all), but turns out, really expensive.

This is me, cutting our
grass - this was probably
my best grass-growing
attempt,  ever.
Mom and Dad, you totally want to move out here to a nice mountain home (with a backyard) before, oh, say... late June 2013? Great. Problem solved.

Wouldn't it be great though to rent a big six or eight bedroom mountain house for the week or weekend and have the whole wedding party able to just hang out in the house, all together - big happy family style? Playing drinking games, word party, hiking, relaxing in the sun (and by the pool and hot tub...), oh man...  I think so. I am hell bent on this just being a really freaking good time for all.
Did I mention I was using scissors?
(and that I am in my bridesmaid
dress from my brother's wedding?)

(Oh don't forget training for the half marathon we will all run the morning of the nuptials! Seriously. I will permit walking, to be fair. And likely parade floats, too.)

Too bad I don't own that house (and by "that house" I mean "some house in the mountains that would fit this description"). Nevertheless, I live in a great place where there are plenty (even like the one I described) to choose from! The six night minimum in the summer for so many places is getting to be the only issue (not that I wouldn't love to stay for six nights, it just makes it really costly!). I suppose when we are talking about housing for 15 to 20+ people, it is probably more realistic than I am wrapping my head around.

I would cook sweet potatoes nonstop, all week, in this figment-of-my-imagination-mountain-house I need to reserve in the next one to two months. Each day I would pick a different form to cook my sweet potatoes in (sweet potato fries, sweet potato chips, mashed sweet potatoes, cubed sweet potatoes, sweet potato crisps, sweet potato casserole, sweet potato...) and then serve it all at the wedding reception. It'd be like Bubba Gump Sweet Potato Co.... Dreams can come true.

Dreams come true in backyards, to be fair (like getting your dream swingset? trampoline? Mmm hmmm).



In other news:
Based on the fact that I literally sat at my kitchen table this morning crying like I lost my puppy, I really want to share this article that came across my news feed this morning. It is truly moving (and if you are a parent, be warned, you may be even more touched - maybe, who knows). The letter is from a mother (and includes a letter from her son) in response to an article that was written several months ago.

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