Okay, I've given in. Because from what I can tell, you're not really married until you have a blog. And Chase and I have been married for a wonderful 6 months already! I know I've missed a lot of exciting stories, like the baby turtles Chase got me for my birthday, but to start off this blog appropriately, let me tell you about our latest adventure.
This past weekend, Chase and I went out with some friends to a place called BJ's Bayou in the middle of Nowhere, Idaho. It's a weird Paula Dean-ish restaurant in a 107 year old building and has two big gators living in it. And a turtle. They might as well have been stuffed for how much they moved. The place was creepier than most things, but it was fun! We ate fried gator tail, nasty hush puppies, and really big hamburgers. The food wasn't bad. But the best part was the owner of the place. She and her husband moved from New Orleans and started up the restaurant, which they actually lived in on the second floor. We had read somewhere that BJ's was haunted and asked for a spooky story. She gave us a story alright, but it was more perplexing than anything else because she absolutely, with all the sanity she had left, believed that her and her family had constant interactions with ghosts. She told us about Sam, a cowboy who would walk down the hallways of their house. Her 17 year old daughter let us know that Sam would come and sit on her bed almost every night and talk with her. She also let us know that she wanted to be a Psychiatrist. We didn't think it was the best career choice. Anyway, the owner went on and on about dozens of ghosts and how they would steal the dinnerware and scare prom groups that came in for dinner. And Chase, of course, was encouraging her the whole time by asking innocent questions with an impressively straight face. We gave her a good tip for the whole thing, mostly because it wasn't an act. And we felt bad for her kids.