This is how my friend from New Zealand pronounces "prayers":

"Prizz."

She also says bum bag instead of fanny pack because fanny means something that is not butt.

Whoops

I accidentally made a disgusting lunch for my picnic meet-up with Seth today.

How come no one ever told me that dill pickles do not belong in egg salad? There was obviously a glaring gap in my culinary education.

I saw something nasty in the woodshed.

And it was:

A dead cat.

It wasn’t actually in the woodshed, but I will like you more[1] if you can tell me where that quote comes from.[2]

The dead cat was:

In the rose bushes in my front yard.

As I’m sure you would have done too, I screamed. The neighbor across the street came barreling over to see if he needed to grab his shot gun. When I told him why I was screaming, his face and voice both turned somber. It quickly went from a moment of pity for Dani to a moment of pity for the cat and its owner. (WHAT?)

He went and got the neighbor whose cat it was (had been), and I took a cue from the first neighbor and expressed sympathy for his loss.

Later I came back to my senses and remembered I’M the one who needs sympathy because I’M the one who stumbled upon a DEAD CAT in the rose bushes.

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[1] The relative degree to which my liking for you increases depends fully on how much I like you now. If I already like you a lot, then this added knowledge can only be a drop in the sea of my appreciation of you. But if I only barely tolerate you, then you might move up to the level of respectful tolerance, which I’d say is a big jump.

[2] This line, in addition to being from a movie, is what always runs through my head after changing Jonah’s diapers.