happy buckday to me
Well, last night was my 30th birthday party. The Attorney and the Librarian were very sweet to host the party, since my apartment can't come close to handling that many people. It was a good time, in that "worlds clashing" kind of way that happens whenever you put work friends and church friends and random friends from other places into the same room, er, backyard. My sister made her amazing red velvet cake. It was way fun.
The most ... let's say interesting part of the evening was my gift from my Austin "family," delivered by two of the Favorite Kids and their parents:
Lola is the Attorney and the Librarian's dog.
It was an entirely logical conclusion, but I am happy to report that they have not yet had to resort to packing Lola in a box when it comes to wishing a friend a happy 30th birthday.
But what could have been inside that box of wonder? Well, That would be this:
His name is Buck. Buck talks. And sings. Songs like "Sweet Home Alabama." And "Friends in Low Places." You can also do karaoke with Buck. Through a microphone.
As you can probably guess, Buck is fascinating for some small children and terrifying for others. Especially when his "voice" changes genders midway through a discussion, when someone else picks up the mike.
Believe it or not, this is not my first encounter with Buck. You see, the night before I took off for the very long trip to the Congo in 2006, I stayed with the family. It was a late night, as I had a good-bye party and lots of packing to do, so I got to their house long after everyone else went to bed. I tiptoed into the guest room, when what should happen but a loud voice started singing "Suspicious Minds." It was Buck, on my bed.
(That's when I learned that Buck is motion-sensitive.)
The best part of last night's Buck-stravaganza was driving home. See, Buck and his eight points wouldn't fit into my car without putting the top down. So there I was, driving down Burnet Road late at night with a deer head in the passenger seat.
I've never had so many interesting conversations with strangers in pickups at stoplights involving the words, "Did yew bag that yurself?!?"
It was even better when I realized that I had to get gas if I was going to be able to get to church this morning. That's when I got to talk to the Exxon guy who was refilling the tanks.
Seriously. It was so funny, but given what I dish out in terms of practical jokes and silly gifts, I totally deserve it. I am lucky to have such wonderful friends who open their homes and hearts and make me feel like I have more than one family in this city.
Also, if you're in need of a singing deer, I can hook you up. No charge.