I'll be driving up to Shreveport today to attend a funeral for my great uncle on Saturday, so you know what that means. That's right: I have to be "on." This means seeing family members I haven't seen since 1977, my grandparents' church friends who will say "I haven't seen you since you were knee high to a grasshopper" — really, this has been said more than once by some of the folks at prior events. I don't recall ever being knee high to a grasshopper, unless they're referring to when I was an embryo and I although I have a fantastic memory, it doesn't go back quite that far.
On a completely different note, 'cause randomness reigns, I thought I'd share some pics from Orange Beach.
Because I'm a narcissist (sarcasm), I took a pic of myself in the outfit our waitress complimented me on. She said she liked my style and that I was adorable. This made her my new bff.
Nothing like a $25 Target dress and more accessories that I could carry and taking pics in the hotel mirror. It was actually nice hotel, which you can't tell but this shot of the mirrored closet.
Do you see how skinny my ankles are? Is there any wonder I'm constantly spraining them? They're like toothpicks supporting the Statue of Liberty. And I choose to wear Votatiles with heels, which I've fallen in several times because I am that graceful. It's a gift I have. I'm auditioning for "Dance Your Ass Off" as we speak. Not really. But I would if I had any coordination whatsoever.
We saw Flipper on a dolphin cruise with the Griffins. It was awesome.
We went bowling. I fell down and sprained my ankle while trying to pick up Andrew's ball when he dropped it on the bumper. You're not supposed to cross the line. I crossed the line. The lane is greased-down with the stuff body builders use to be all shiny and I slipped. Did my hubs rush to my side? No, he looked at me like the fool I am until I tried to get up and slipped again because the lane was made of Crisco. After that he shook his head and helped me up.
Check out Molly attempting to pick up that split. I don't think it's fair that the kids get to have the bumpers.
Whatev. I'm off to Shreveport. I have stress acne. And I can't find my favorite bra. Besides the sad occasion I'm going for, I'm also planning to visit a few friends and their babies which is always fun. Still don't know where I'm staying, but I'm sure I'll update later.
This has all the makings of a successful visit to the hometown.
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