So, I laid out of work yesterday, feeling poorly (ahem). Calling in sick makes me feel both triumphant and guilty; I lay there trying to go back to sleep after making the phone call and my stomach twists up in a knot as I imagine that something dramatic will happen on my return, such as being quizzed on my exact symptoms or called into my boss's slightly larger cubicle for a Serious Conversation regarding my responsibilities in the world of benefit determination. Nothing ever happens, of course, pretty anti-climatic.
The weekend with my mom and niece went well; it was pretty low key. On Friday night, we went downtown a little bit early and rode the trolley all the way down South Main to the Arcade and then back up to the little Court Square park. My mom has memories of eating lunch in this park when she was a young hot secretary; it has a really gorgeous fountain that we admired before walking back down to the Orpheum and settling in for 226 minutes of Gone With The Wind. Now, I was excited because neither B nor my niece had seen the film before, and I thought it was a really nice experience for all of us to be seeing it together in the incredible Orpheum. Goddamn, I love that place.
Next up, we've got Dave and Amy. Aren't they cute? I think that seersucker dress is *quite* becoming, myself.
I made some homemade pizzas, and Zach made incredible quesadillas. Incredidillas, if you will. Below we see evidence of food, and Zach, and Alpha. See, I'm not lying about any of this.
B and I were discussing how in both of the above pics, Zach Whitten appears as Worldly Observer. He can't really say as to why humans act as they do, but he'll gladly provide a prop to facilitate their ridiculous behavior. Also, he provides that mega-photogenic moustache.
So, I had a great time y'all, and I hope you did too. I apologize for going to bed kind of early and, in the process, possibly exposing my panties to anyone, but it's really no less revealing than a bathing suit, so I think you'll be okay. I think I need to develop some sort of espresso shooter to combat my alcohol-induced narcolepsy.
ETA that, of course, all photography is courtesy of my brilliant husband. Please, hire him, fuel our adventures.