Careful

I heard from Nathan that I have some anonymous readers out there who are laughing at me and not even commenting here. And it makes me wonder how careful I have been in my writing. Did I say anything mean, say, about my Sister in Law? or about those crazy neighbor kids?

When I write this blog I write to the 3 people who I know read it - my mom, my sisters (they only count as one person, sorry girls), and my dad. Knowing that my mom reads this to my dad sometimes helps to keep me in line. I forget that other people might read it, too.

So I am going to be a little more careful and not complain about my neighbor who always borrows stuff like cinnamon - oh wait, that was me. And I promise not to make fun of my brother-in-law's habit of mowing the lawn in just his tiny little Army shorts -

Wait, that's a good story, and I can't think of a darn thing to write about, so I'll tell you about the shorts. Sorry Terry!

First I should mention that I need counseling. Seriously. I have 7 sister and no brothers. I got married right out of high school and haven't dated a boy since I was 17 years old. I've never had a real job with a real boy as a boss or co-worker. I am such a baby. I don't even really know how to talk to guys. I get easily embarrassed around guys - especially if they have their shirts off. Which seems to happen to me all the time - just kidding - I can only think of a couple embarrassing shirtless-man stories to tell.

So, back to the shorts. - I wonder if he still has those shorts? - Anywho, when we were first married we lived in the same town as Nathan's brother, Terry, and his family. They have a fun family, and at that time their 5 kids were ranging in age from about 10 years old down to a baby. We spent a lot of time over there.

I would often stop by their house on my way to Walmart to just hang out. Like I mentioned before I didn't really have a real job, so I had lots of time to kill.

One day as I pulled up to the curb in our '77 Toyota Corolla, Nathan's brother was out mowing the lawn in just his little green Army shorts. Oh the horror! How embarrasssing! I remember being in a bit of a panic, trying to figure out how to get out of there, quick!, without anyone noticing (could I just zoom away in the Corolla, hidden within the smoke-screen?)

But it was too late, the image was already burned in my eyeballs. So I looked away, unbuckled Hannah, and ran as fast as I could, past Terry and the lawn mower, into the house to visit with my sister-in-law, Lori. That may have scarred me for life! Sorry Terry.

I still have an aversion to half naked men. This summer we went waterskiing with our very cool Bishop and his family. Maybe he knew I was shy about that, because he kept his shirt on almost the whole time. But one time our other neighbors came waterskiing too, and I had to be careful to avert my eyes so as not to get an eye full of white, er, uh, I mean, strong manly chest.

Do other people get this embarrassed? This is normal, right? I am not crazy.

Ok, maybe I need help. So,to cure myself of this little problem, I think I am going to have to put myself on a strict beach-watching regimen in Hawaii!