So, this weekend I headed off to the institution that imparted handfuls of knowledge upon me, and plenty of life experience; The University of Virginia. My mom was heading out to Charlottesville for the wedding of a gal I grew up with at Hampton Baptist. So, I decided to take advantage of the outing and met up with some of my favorite people at the University. Most who know me are very aware of how much I enjoy food, thus, when I go back to Charlottesville I view it as an opportunity to catch up on lost time with the food that helped shape me (literally) during my collegiate years. So I had the following: Bang, White Spot, Bodo's, and Arch's. And evening attendance at: The Virginian, Coupe's, and Buddhist. Don't be jealous, I'm scared to put on pants.
The next day we went to Miss DC to cheer on Kate Marie in her last evening of service. Let's just say ... We. Are. So. Happy. And I was really proud of her. AND we got to see Bubby and Laura which is always a baller moment.
Then Lisa so kindly peeled me out of bed this morning to hit the road around 545am so we would miss traffic heading out of DC. We then ran errands (lame, lame, I know ...)
While I'm in Hampton I'm also learning how to cook. Can you imagine? Tonight I had my first lesson and I'm able to do the following: steam crab legs, bake salmon, roast red potatoes, and grill some legit vegetables. Next on the list: fried chicken. A required staple for acceptance as a Southern woman. I've got the best teacher, though ... Colonel Sanders takes a backseat in comparison to what my mother can whip up. It's just universally known that Lisa is the JAM at cooking fried chicken.
But here's why I'm really home ... I'm getting a nose job. BAHAHA. Okay, kind of. Not the exterior. But I'm getting my sinuses "roto-rootered" in the words of Faith Ossmann. I'm going to the doctor tomorrow who will gage it's state of un-awesomeness since the most recent breakage. Then he'll tell me if he has to re-break it this time around. I'm keeping my eyes on the prize: Breathing. Less sinus headaches. AND, perhaps even less nosebleeds. Then Paul won't have to stick a vaseline coated q-tip up my nose anymore. All great things.
I'll keep you updated. This could be good. Like wearing sunglasses indoors because of two black eyes and a nose cast good.
PS: As I'm writing this my father just picked up the Cosmopolitan mag I picked up at the grocer today *because my sorority sister BRENNA MCGUIRE is jamming out on page 132!* and it says "125 Sex Moves" on the cover. He quips, "125 Sex Moves? Who do they have writing this? Hell, they're 8 behind! It's 133". And people wonder why I say everything that comes to mind.