people pegs and [i wish] pogo sticks.

I like to make stories all kinds of long and rambling, and this will be no exception. Honestly, the following bajillion paragraphs can be summed up in the following points:

• I'm an odd duck and I luckily found someone who not only tolerates my weirdness and neediness but also participates in it.
• Game of Life is entertaining if you dig past the trauma [stemming from the duckness aforementioned] of "living" a life that is not real life.
• I do so love my Jason.
• My stories come out through my fingers heavily peppered with parenthetical thoughts [or bracketed ones], which often increases the difficulty of reading them. I do not apologize. (And anyway, I think they're way easier to follow in reading than they are if I'm telling them in person [since even though there are quotation marks for appropriate times in speech, there isn't really a way to indicate "Oh, this is a side thought that is kinda related, but it might lead down a rabbit trail of goodness or confusion, and I don't know which one it will be before I just go ahead and just say it, so I'm just going to go and say it." what an oversight of society.], so you should be thanking me for writing it out instead of calling you up and telling it to you that way.)
• I'm an odd duck.

The rest of this post all somehow or another manages to squeeze itself into one or more of the above points, so, if you are short on time or interest, you can stop reading here and feel like you didn't miss out on anything. It's all good. However, since the point of our blog is to just jot down random stuff that may or may not be found entertaining to us in the future, this story [and, thus, the inevitable rambling] must be told.

And begin.

Last night Jason and I played Game of Life. As soon as we started setting up the game, a predicament immediately presented itself that I had somehow managed to overlook. I will explain [and most likely sound ridiculous in the process].

If you know us at all, Jason and I are rather... attached to each other. We like to be with each other. All the time. Now, of course, this just sounds like any normal husband and wife, no? Well, I am afraid [and also, admittedly, pleased] to say that we might take the "we prefer to be with each other" sentiment to a clingy level of "oh, now that's just a little ridiculous."

Let me count the ways [by demonstrating just a few random tidbits here and there]:

• Sleep apart? Never. We have somehow managed to avoid all situations that might involve separating us at bedtime. No overnight trips apart allowed. We hope to keep this up for as long as possible. Fingers crossed.
• Same team buddies! Playing a game? Teammates! No questions.
• Must.sit.together. This coupled with the previous bit tends to present a problem if we're playing a game of canasta with a group since you don't sit next to your teammates. It's a sad game.

Now, those are the only ones I'm going to mention because it can start sounding weird really fast. There are a lot of little things that shall go unmentioned that would most likely just result in a head tilt and slightly perplexed, "Hm. Interesting." 

Anyway, really, those 3 things aren't all that odd, right? You might almost think they sound pretty normal for a couple to want to always sit together, play on the same team, and stay together as much as possible. I mean, you can just put the Biblical spin on it of two becoming one and it all makes sense. We're a unit. We stay together. I suppose the thing that might cross the line from normal to odd is that not being together (and by together, I mean actually next to each other [be it at night, in a game, in a car]), actually makes me sad. 

Yes, I realize this is ridiculous (and stupidly clingy-sounding [fortunately, Jason doesn't mind his girl clingy. whew.]) and ridiculous, and a little ridiculous. But we're an Us. And separation of an Us is just not natural. It feels weird. And sad. Which I like to think should be the normal response of an Us when threatened with impending doom [ie. 15 minutes or more of not being within hugging distance], though I recognize this is probably just me trying to pretend we're normal [a very fun game, if I do say so myself]. Anyway, all this just to make the point that we have a different definition/life style of being together. And while I realize it wouldn't work for a lot of people, perhaps coming across as overly dependent, stifling, or just a ridiculous expectation overall, it works for us. It's like we were made for each other. Or something.

Okay. I feel like that was a tangent. Back to Game of Life.

So, the thing about Game of Life is that all players are [obviously] living their own individual lives. Which includes having your own car filled with your own spouse "peoples" and kid "peoples." (In the game instructions they call the peg people "peoples" [with the quotes], which I found to be entertaining for some reason.) For two people who are bound and determined to do everything in as together of a fashion as we can pull off, putting our little peg "peoples" in our separate little blue and green cars was actually pretty traumatizing. 

The fact that Jason sped off through college (I believe he spent 1 turn in there as opposed to my 3 or 4?), landed on the "elope! move ahead to get married!" space, and landed the 2nd highest paying/best potential job available (real-life Lawyer Jason would be rather intense, I think), all whilst I'm just plugging along through college working a part-time job, was a tough pill to swallow. Little blue "peoples" Jason was supposed to put his life on hold [up to a couple of years doesn't seem like too much to expect!] and wait for me and my green car to get through school so I could join him at the altar. He wasn't supposed to find some little pink "peoples" named Nancy to join him on his journey through Life. This was not working out the way it was supposed to.

But, it was too late to turn back and rethink our playing of the game, so onward we spun and moved. Let me tell you, there were many a face-buried-in-hands and [semi] angrily-thrown game cards as Life just kept plugging along in the most not-at-all ideal fashion. We [obviously] both ended up retiring at the Millionaire Estates; me with my 5 sons and a husband named Ronald, and Jason with Nancy and their 1 daughter [who, of course, went to college and had a kid of her own along the way]. 

My life, though full with everything that actually matters [lots of kids (both adopted and not), some rescue pets, a little log cabin, and a $45,000 cruise vacation (it was $5k a head for each kid! ishk)] had many a setback, including being fired from my job twice. I had my college-degree-supported veterinarian job, was fired and [as per Life rules (which, thankfully, do not actually reflect life rules)] banned from any other college-degree-required job, became a lowly athlete [poor base salary but unlimited potential salary], was fired yet again, and eventually retired as a police officer [how do you support a 7-person family on $40k a year?]. 

Meanwhile, Jason and Nancy were living it up with their $100k+ salary (by the end, he was making $150k), winning a couple hundred thousand in various singing/performing competitions, and buying up Executive Cape homes. Now sure, Jason's life sounds like an appealing one, but you have to know that his "peoples" were practically jumping out of that little blue car. Seriously. He had to keep putting his little pegs back in the car each turn. He had all the fame and fortune in the world, but no love.

So, moral of this drawn out story:

• Despite the sadness of not getting to play "together," Game of Life is an entertaining way to learn life lessons, such as:
• Love and family are worth more than those orange $100k bills.
• It doesn't matter how much money you make, you still get to retire at Millionaire Estates.
• The only profession that beats a lawyer is a doctor.
• If you have to have 2 minivans to cart around all your kids, some mountain passes may not allow you to drive side by side.
• I don't care how ridiculous it is that I can "miss" Jason when he's just sitting across the table from me. I don't ever want the day to come that I'm not affected by his distance from me. We're a packaged deal.
• Lastly, God makes a way better life planner than a 10-colored spinner [though I was totally reminded last night of how much I like that clickety noise that the spinner makes when you spin it really fast... ah. childhood.]

I am going to find a way to play Game of Life in 1 car. I am. It will be entertaining. Oh, I do so like making up new games... :)

Alright. Done. 

What you may feel like if you successfully read through this entire thing.