with love from versailles

This weekend was great. So far, the workweek has been a million people screaming that THEIR thing is high-priority, so it’s just overwhelming because there’s no way for me to decide whose thing is higher priority than the others. Needless to say, blogging has been tossed by the wayside. But no more.

Friday night was Keith Hollowell’s 30th birthday party. I made some tortilla pie and went over to the ranch, where people were already downing the strongest margaritas ever. Seeing Daron and Jenny was nice, and seeing Keith bust a pinata inside the house was even better. Eventually, Marshall and I went and picked up Kathryn and caroused at Ipanema for a while. An excellent evening by all accounts.

I had decided all impromptu-style to go to Nags Head with my parents the next day. I guess I came home and didn’t set the alarm right, because I woke up to my dad calling me, 15 minutes after I was supposed to be at their house. So I threw some things into a bag and made it over there in 30 minutes from when I hung up the phone. I was amazed.

The beach was perfect. Besides some traffic on the way up, the day went nicely. We went to where my mom’s sister was staying and went out on the beach. For dinner, we ate at a delicious seafood restaurant, which met my expectations rather well. A few crab cakes later, we were out on the beach again. It got dark and cool, and we watched random fireworks and milled around on the beach and watched my uncle try to fish.

At our hotel room that night, we had to get a cot for me, and it would barely fit in the room. Dad said it was like back in the day when I was a baby, and I slept in their room with them. They only had one AC unit, so they figured they should keep me in their room so I could benefit from it. After we moved to Enon, I had MY OWN ROOM. But I don’t even remember it because I was 2. After that, I always shared. In fact, I shared a bedroom for my entire life until I moved into the apartment on Floyd. Pretty amazing. I have no idea how I did it. Personal space is a luxury; if you grew up with it, consider yourself lucky.

Sometimes it’s nice to get out of town and stare at the ocean for a while. Good for clearing up the head, identifying priorities, stepping on pointy seashells, etc.

When I got back from the beach, I cleaned up as much as I could and headed over to Mexico to have dinner with Daron, Jenny, & co. It was a good way to end the weekend, munching on a shrimp taco salad and listening to them tell me about Saturday Night Live. I feel like in that group of friends, we hardly ever see each other unless Daron and Jenny are in town. We need to hang out more often….but that can be said about most of my friend groups. What would be ideal is if I could quit my job and become a professional hanger-outer. But then, would I be usurping Marshall’s job? I don’t know.

But seriously: Chelsea, I know you’re reading this. The day-long mini-road-trip horticulture thing needs to happen.

In other news, the homeless care packages have been assembled, and I have three in my car right now waiting for the next time I see some folks in need. They are a tiny, tiny offering for somebody who might need bigtime help, but I figure the first step is to not go ’round emptyhanded. If I at least give them what I have when I see them, at least that helps a little. The packages were actually fun to put together, and I just did it while we were watching The Importance of Being Earnest. If anybody wants one or two to keep in your car, I can give you some.

The Rupert Everett film festival continued last night with An Ideal Husband, which I enjoyed thoroughly. I guess we should all give up now trying to be as beautiful as Cate Blanchett. It will never happen.
In other other news, there are many lovely things to be inspired by today. Like

This weekend, the urban family is spending Labor Day weekend in Philly. Can’t wait to lounge poolside, hit the town, etc.


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