First, in case you haven't met my mom, she is the very last person on the face of this earth that would drink alcohol. A couple of years ago we were playing the game Taboo as a family, and the person giving hints said something about a Mexican drink. My mom shouted "tequila!" very excitedly. We all stopped and looked at her, at which point she sheepishly said, "that's a drink, right?" Ever since then, tequila jokes have been made with our family on a fairly regular basis.
Ok, now on to the rest of this totally unrelated blog.
Jeremy and I had another Friday night date tonight. We've been making it a habit lately, and man, this is a habit that really needs to stick. I love our dates. For a couple hours, I'm not a jungle gym, housekeeper, or dairy farm. I'm just an adult (I use that term loosely) hanging out with the love of my life. Talking about theology, or our future, or our dreams, or coming up with some crazy idea. There's usually a lot of laughter on our dates.
Interestingly, my mom left a message on my phone tonight, because someone had ding-dong-ditched a bottle of tequila (and bag of chocolates) on their front doorstep. She had her suspicions as to who the culprits might be, but I'd rather not give out any names. She was also concerned as to what exactly she should do with said bottle, which, I assume, is part of the humor in the whole thing. I also assume that the culprits shared a good laugh as they scampered away in the night, like
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