The lost chronicle

It was brought to my attention earlier today that I had yet to blog about the third and final chapter of the Labor Day Weekend. My most sincere and heartfelt apologies.

On the actual day of this most festive of holidays, my company and I awoke, and journied the great distance to Chick-fil-A, where apparently the rest of the world had the same idea. Not wanting to wait in the wrap-around line, we enjoyed our biscuits and tots outdoors and counted the number of cars that gave up in the quest. Then it was time to finish our feature presentation. The girls, Britt and Sarah N., were coming up with some of the most interesting ways of determining who the real ice picker was. I shall not go into detail, but it was most amusing.

I was voted to have the quote of the day. A most honorable of honors. What was the quote you say? Oh, well... let me see if I can down this a bit for public viewing. Ahemmm (clearing throat) "I don't know how minks *#$^, but I know that they make great coats!" (Can you picture my big cheesy grin here? Can you?)

After the scrolling of the credits and seeing the confused, shocked faces, of my comrades, I declared that it was time for the main event. I ran back to my room where I gathered my belongings and hurriedly ran back to the front of the house. What did I see? Sarah still curled up on the couch while Rickey did a swan dive onto the air mattress. "This will never do," I thought to myself. First things first. I ran into the spare room, smacked Rickey with this flip flop. When I received little to no response, I moved on to more aggressive measures. I reached down, and in all my glory, I pulled the plug and a burst of air came rushing out. At the sound, Britt then came bounding in and did her own dive onto the mattress and causing a wave of air from below and thus sending her husband to the ground.

Dusting my hands off and a pat on the back for a job well done, it was on to the next. This chore proved much more taxing. Bound and determined not to move, I grabbed Sarah's ankles and began to pull. She took hold of the couch and it became a tug-o-war. Being quick on my feet, the winning strategy soon formed in my mind. As I pulled harder and managed to get her further away from the back of the furniture, I simply let go. She came crashing to the floor. Victory was mine!

When we made it to the pool, after much prodding of the slow pokes, chicken fights became the game of choice. I soon learned that neither Sarah nor myself make proper anchors and therefore lost, each and every time.

Our most triumphant feat of the day. The rescue and resurrection of our mascot, Onomatopoeia or Omi for short. Lin saw him down in the depths of the pool, lifeless. Seeing as I was the only one who did not require corrective lenses and had no difficultly opening my pretty blues (they're actually grey) under water, I dove. Several attempts to grasp hold and finally to the surface he came. After much coaching, we determined that there was nothing that could be done. Fetching an empty water bottle, we placed him inside and said a few words.

While posing for some pictures some time after, I decided that we needed a picture of our late friend. I swam over to courier him to the other side. While in transit Lin noticed some slight movement. Ecstatic, we all rushed over to the side of the pool and released him. There, for all to see, he began to move and twitch. Amazed by this Britt scooped him up and placed him in a neighboring potted plant. Soon afterwards he received a visitor, perhaps an older relative.

All in all, it was a great day full of much excitement and joy. And thus ends the epic.