We Didn't Start The Fire

Day: Two Hundred and Ninety Three

Photo taken on Saturday, May 21, 2011 on our deck at 314pm. (Pictured at the table: me and Heather. Men in the back: Justin and Steve)

"It's the end of the world as we know it."

The Rapture.

Doomsday.

What way to celebrate our last moments on earth than with good friends and good samwidges? Sure, I already know this morning when Steve leaves for work that the other Hemisphere is still in fine shape at 6pm their time but we can't be too positive. We still have a few hours before our life-ending earthquake hits New York. I just don't want to be doomed for eternity knowing that the last time I ate one of Steve's Infamous Supermelts was months ago, so we heat up the griddle and set to work. When we go to the fiery depths of hell this evening, at least we'll be full.

When 559 rolls around we fearfully lift our beer glasses (Justin opts for rootbeer since he's driving later) and we all stare intently at the cable box clock. It starts to rain (water not frogs) but it makes us wonder a bit... maybe we're not taking Harold Campings' prophesy seriously enough.

At six o'clock we wait a few seconds...

Cheers!

We make it through the Rapture unscathed!

As we imbibe our respective drinks and get back into fun conversations, we get a visitor to our deck. Then she so boldly visits our screen door:

I think she just wants to get in on the action of still being alive and free to jump from tree to rooftop to telephone wire till her little heart's content. Heather makes her a peanut butter samwidge to join in our celebration and as she devours it we all name her.

Meet our deck pet: Beatrice Tabitha Nesbitt

Swans and ducks and now squirrels! Feel free to come to our home and feed the animals (that includes Steve and I as well).