I hesitate to mention this, lest you think less of us or are in the position of having us axed, but we had our Yacht Club interview today.
Bwahahahahaha! No really. We did.
No one has summed up the whole concept of us joining a yacht club better than Brighton. She said.... well, she didn't actually say anything because she was doing that laugh where no sound comes out and you wonder if you should call 911 because she appears unable to breathe.
We are clearly cut out for this yachting thing.
Chris showed up for the interview in jeans and a t-shirt. I was wearing a really cute shirt somewhere under my Old Navy fleece. We are a power couple from way back.
Note: whenever I try to type "power couple" I end up typing "poser couple." Hello, Freud.
Also, Chris started to park in the Commodore's parking spot because if there is a sign that says "this is not for you. Go away" that's where he'll go. I pitched a total "gah! you are going to get us kicked out before we've even had a chance to steal all the toilet paper" fit and he relented.
They're going to have a super-secret meeting before they decide whether we're in or not. We're hoping they do it soon because we're planning to get everyone on our Christmas list windbreakers with the club insignia. I don't think we have time to apply to a back-up club.
I'll let you know how it goes. Or you'll notice my avatar wearing a polo shirt. Either way, it's a sure sign that Armageddon is closer than we thought.
(why are we doing this? Because we met a bunch of the people over the summer and liked them tremendously. Because by "yachts" they mean "tugboats." Because it has a splendid view. Because it's lonely here in the winter. Because we secretly want to be Mary Ann and the Professor.)