The Luck of Mike.

So previously to marriage, I've had really, unusually good luck. I've never really known why till I traveled to a little Chinese restaurant known as Little World. I'm a rabbit, prone to good luck, amongst other great things. This is awesome. I even married the right person. "Rabbits should marry boars" Guess whose a boar?? MIKE! (what a fantastic pun. haha) Boars, on the other hand, are prone to not-so-good luck, and since he's the bigger one of the two of us, (or the stronger, or the more handsome, or the stranger....), luck for the two of us apparently goes his way. (figures) It all started with the blasted deer I tell you.

Are you excited for the story I'm about to tell?? Good. Because now I'll make you all suffer through my recap of Easter weekend.

Mike went to DC, without me, which is a little rude- not going to lie, but it was all because he had a cousins wedding, and a free plane ticket that was to expire, and we will both be going to DC next month for his sister's wedding, so it's not like I'll never see any of the sites....eh...scratch that, since Mike sent me picture messages of all the "sites," (extremely rude, by the way) I have a little place in my heart that says Mike's not going to want to run around the same city again next month. Ha. But that'd be okay, all I want is a hot dog and a can of Pringles, and maybe a museum or too. And probably the Lincoln Memorial. Okay, and when I get there, I know myself well enough to know I'll want all of it. And I have Mitch on my side, I'm sure.

Utah was fun, and especially fun for little Mitchell. My mother enjoys being a grandmother a little too much, and Mitch was subject to all kinds of sugar in pretty much every form. AHHH!! I guess it's not going to kill him, I mean really, they say wait a year, but it's not like at exactly one year something magical happens and sugar magically digests through their system like any other kind of food instead of instant death. I'm over it, what happens at grandma's house, stays at grandmas house, and Mitch is back to his all-organic, strictly homemade baby food diet. haha. Just kidding....

And Mike and I got Mitch a little Easter basket- eggs filled with Cheerios, a book I reused from Christmas, some bubbles for the park, but he liked the grass inside most of all. Life. I realize Mitchell will have no recollection of the moment, but I have a husband who says traditions start at birth. Fine. Whatever. I love Easter baskets more than is healthy, so anytime I can find a reason to put one together, even for a 9 month old, I'm all over it. Mike thought I was crazy, but stopped complaining once he got one. Honestly...men.... And my mom gave me one all homemade. awhhhh.... It was so sweet I almost cried, but Amy already had that covered.

I also caught up with an old friend, whose not so old.... and out of pure curiosity had a Bento Box. That's all I want to say about it. I just thought I'd let a few of you know of my passage through this rite of passage, and that Madee surely knows her food-it was delicious.

So, we drive back to Rexburg, which is the most boring drive of all. (here starts the story you've all been dying to hear) I drop him off at work, 30 mins away from home, and plan to pick him up around 7 when he gets off.

6:30 rolls around, Mitch is in his pajamas, fed and all, and I strap him in his car seat and turn the car on. Well, at least that was the plan. The plan that our little Saturn hadn't been aware of.

So I sit, in our parking lot, trying in vain to turn the car on. We've replaced everything there is to replace in this car. Can this really be happening? It's not even trying to turn on, which is frustrating, sad, and extremely hilarious all at the same time.

I try to call Mike. He solves all my other problems, surely he can solve this. He doesn't answer his work phone, so I try his cell. All of the sudden I hear "BUZZZZZ BUZZZZ" HE LEFT HIS CELL IN THE CAR!?!?!?!? WHY!?

So I call my neighbor, who has pretty much saved my life on more than one occasion, and she loans me her car, and off I go, at 6:55 to pick up Mike. He did call me on the way there "where are you?" Nice.

I get to his work around 7:35, and hand him the keys so he can lock up the building.

"My work key isn't on here"
"Excuse me? This is really happening?"

At this point a nice little memory comes to my brain. Right before I left Utah, and going through the house to make sure we didn't forget anything (in vain.... we always leave something, this time it was a sippy cup, if you were wondering) I found upon the dresser a key, looked like our house key, so I slipped it in my pocket. Then forgot about it, and it wasn't our house key because the key on our key ring opened our apartment. Then, before picking Mike up, I changed my outfit, jeans and all. Crap. It was that key. (But, hey, at least it's in the same state right?)

So he uses his work phone to call Dane, his assistant manager, to have him drive over and lock the store up. We wait for Dane to get there, and drive off once he does. This is around 8:10pm.

We are about half way home when Mike says "where are the keys"

Hahhaha! Seriously?

He left them at work. Locked up, and no key to get inside.

So, Mike? What's the plan? "Let's try to break in"

Oh. My. Gosh. If I get arrested....it is so your fault.

We can't break in, at all, nor do we really know what we're doing, so Mike decides to drive around and find Dane's apartment complex. Are you kidding? Have you even seen it before?

So, no joke, we drive around aimlessly trying to find Dane's car. Haha. I didn't think I'd ever come home again, honestly.

Then Mike becomes his brilliant, usual, self and calls his boss (number is memorized, haha) and gets Dane's number (and, hey, we were surprisingly on the right road!) and goes, gets the key, drives back to the store, opens it legally, gets the house key, drives home, knocks on said neighbors door around 10:30 "hey, can we borrow some jumper cables?"

Ha. The thing that charges the battery is broken. So, we're fixing that, and then selling it, and then if that doesn't work, we are trading it in, moving with a Uhaul, and finding another car in the future city- and future home to the Unlucky Taylors-not the wife's fault.

We are adding another fund. This one is the "Anti-American Car fund"