Weekend Fun

We had a boring, quiet weekend all lined up, and then on Friday I got an email from Hugh (the other part of Hugh and Cassie) saying that he'd be in the SAV for the night.  It was an almost-reunion for our Savannah family (minus Cassie, who was away on a girls' weekend).  Shoot yeah!  We ate and laughed and drank and then ate more because the drink had taken effect and then laughed even harder.  And then I woke up the next morning with a wine headache so bad that I have sworn off wine for at least six days.  Also, I don't have any pictures to show you from Hugh's visit because I forgot to take my camera.

Oh, wait!  Yes I do!  I just remembered!  (see: too much wine drinking).

Also, Brian had 10 pairs of these sunglasses that his mom sent him because they were $.50/each and he's terrible about losing sunglasses.  He was willing to part with one of the pairs, though, and Hugh, for the rest of the night, would incorporate the word sports into what he was saying, and would slowly turn his head to the side and graze the side of the sunglasses with his finger.  When I talked to Cassie this afternoon, she mentioned that Hugh had received some cheap plastic sunglasses during his visit and that he refused to take them off in the house.  Apparently he was playing some indoor sports.

That was the height of excitement for our weekend.  We spent the remaining hours bemoaning Friday night's poor judgment, playing Mario 3*, making marshmallows, catching up with my Brothers & Sisters (both real and fictional), sleeping until 1:00, watching Mad Men, and pretty much just wishing we were as badass as this kid.**

Um, yeah, that kid is riding a skateboard AND playing a trumpet at the same time.  I can do neither of those things.**

How was your weekend?


*Damn you, world 5 airship and fortress!


**Cool: a kid who rides up and down the street on a skateboard while playing the trumpet.  Not cool: the creepy lady who gets caught taking a picture of the kid from her living room window.***


***Guess we're not going to be friends with those neighbors after all.

Too Much Cuteness for One Post

So, our neighbor across the street was having a yard sale on Saturday.  I thought about going over, but I didn't really want to buy anything and I wasn't up for awkward conversation and I was tired and had a little bit of a wine headache and I preferred to just be nosey from the window.

And while I stood at the window like this. . .  (PS--still wearing that exact same outfit)

I saw that she has a brand new puppy.  A little fat-bellied, puppy-breathed, needle-toothed ball of uber cuteness.  And then I got all flustered and jealous and I wanted to go over and distract her by kicking a skateboard and making it knock stuff over so that I could steal the puppy.  (Someone's been watching a little too much Toy Story.)  But that's a bad idea, because we don't need another dog for lots of reasons and because she would probably figure it out pretty quickly.  Dammit.

So to satiate my puppy yearnings, I dug out some old pictures of my Mitchell.  (I didn't have a digital camera back then, which is probably for the best, because there's just not enough digital memory in the world.  But our new printer has a scanner, so I can share them here now.)

Mitch was a really bad puppy.  Like really really bad.  And he still has days where he drives me and Matt bananas, when he whines and gets in our faces and barks and howls. 

But even during the worst of those moments, I can always think of him like this.

Be still, my uterus! 

 If you don't hear from me for a few days, it's probably because I'm off at some experimental doctor's office getting my uterus filled like a gumball machine with puppy embryos. 

A Message from the Future?

Yesterday Matt got an email alerting him about a Facebook message he'd received.  Here's the message.

Okay.  Let's address this.

1. We do not know anybody named John Appleby.
2. We do not know anybody who knows John Appleby.
3. I am not with child.

I am so confused right now.  I mean, Matt and I have been pro-baby for 24 days, which is a record.  Basically, I've been possessed by biology.  It could still go away--school will often do the trick--but so far this year I'm even finding ninth graders adorable.  WHAT HAPPENED?

It's a sickness.

So, here's what I'm thinking.  Maybe John Appleby was writing to Matt from the future, because in a few months they'll become friends.  And in the future I'll go by Amanda instead of Mandy, you know, because of the newfound maturity or something.  That's a reasonable explanation, right?  More reasonable than the idea that perhaps there's someone else out there with Matt's name?

Obama in the SAV

As you know already, my man Obam' was here in Savannah on Tuesday. Matt and I both took the day off work to go on a stalking adventure, or, at the very least, to enjoy a day off together in the middle of the week.

We stood along the road outside Savannah Tech, where Obam' would be giving a speech, where we waited for half an hour or so for the man to show up. It was pretty cool. Matt and I are somewhat politically active (Though if you asked my family they'd tell you that I am a maniacal Democrat who has been brainwashed, who is naive and young and on some wild "democratic streak." Or they might tell you that my disdain for many of them is because of my politics, and not because of, well, them. But that's a story for another time now, isn't it?), but we're not big protestors or anything. So we were signless, and we didn't do any chanting.

The crowd was mostly supportive, but there was a hippie dressed in a pig costume protesting "nuclear pork" (to which Matt says, "Nuclear Pork, that sounds delicious. A spicy pork dish of some kind.") and there a few folks holding their "Stop Obamacare" signs and such. But nothing too juicy.

The crowd chanted a few chants, among them "Fired up! Ready to go!" and "What do we want? Healthcare! When do we want it? Now!" The chanting was cute at first, but got annoying pretty quickly. I mean, I was escaping a classroom full of screaming children only to join a group of screaming adults? Oh, hell.

Even Wanda Sykes (left) came out. I can't really figure out why she felt the need to disguise herself, though.
And then. . .

Motorcycles. . .

And Obama's limousine!

It was at this point that I completely lost my shit and started screaming myself, therefore precluding me from taking good pictures. Oops!

But I gained my composure a little bit after he drove by.

The SUV with the back window open always freaks me out. One wrong move and you're dead!
And around this time some crazy lady jumped the line and ran toward the motorcade. She was quickly caught, and arrested, and is currently undergoing psychological evaluations.
So we saw the motorcade, and knew Obam' would be giving his speech for a bit. We headed downtown for lunch at Saigon, walked around and talked, and then went to Back in the Day Bakery for some dessert (also to open the door for all of my wildest dreams to come true).

Back in the Day was a hit. I got an Old Fashioned cupcake:

A Hanna, some lavender-flavored cookie sandwich awesomeness:
And a chocolate chip cookie for Matt that was the size of his head:

Meanwhile, Obam' went to Mrs. Wilke's, southern cookin' family style restaurant, for lunch. (Foiled!) But at least he rejected Paula Deen.

We missed it. Damn.

But we knew that was likely. We went home, took a long family snuggle nap, and then went to Mexican for dinner. (Three restaurants in one day! That's a Mandy and Matt record!)

So, to sum up: slept in, skipped work, saw Obama's motorcade, hung out with Matt all day, ate way too much, took a nap, and then ate way too much again. Does it get any better than that?

Post Office Crush

The only thing I had to do yesterday was to go to the post office. That was the ONLY THING. (Of course, I created additional tasks for myself, one of which was to bake cream cheese blondies.) But the post office was closed. Veterans Day.

The closure of the post office was disappointing partly because I couldn't cross anything off of my to-do list, but it was really disappointing because I felt that I'd been denied the opportunity to rendezvous with my post office crush, Byron. I love Byron, and I have for years.

I even snapped a picture of him today.

Byron is the opposite of the post office stereotype. He's happy, friendly, unarmed. He also flirts with me (or so I tell myself), which is disarming. "Mailing a package to Virginia, are we?" and "Anything perishable in here?" (I guess you had to be there--these were said in a decidedly flirty manner.) I just giggle and look away, coy girl that I am.

The first time I saw my post office crush I knew we had a special connection. You know how you can tell, what with the eye contact and the smiles and the great customer service. The second time I saw him I was with Matt, and I told Matt that I had a crush on one of the workers. Matt knew immediately which one had caught my fancy--Byron, tall, handsome, witty, a winning smile. But, because Byron is about 50 and about as unattainable as they come, Matt didn't feel threatened. And knowing my track record on crushes, I must acknowledge that there's about a 90% chance that Byron is gay.

But I hope not.

What would be a menial task is now fun with a chance of romance. I stand there in line, with two grouchy women and the shining light of Byron taking customers. The entire time I stand in line I try to manipulate the situation so that I can go to Byron's line. "Hey, old lady, do you need to go ahead of me?" "Move it, kid, I was here first!"

And then Byron and I share a moment, and I look at his name tag, learn his last name, and try to decide if it'd be creepy if I tried to friend him on Facebook.

Yes, it would pretty much be the creepiest thing that ever happened.