Fifty days remaining until commencement. Last Thursday I ordered my cap and gown. Last Friday I ordered my announcements. Tuesday I picked my tickets for the May 20th ceremony. On Wednesday I heard a rumor that William Jefferson Clinton may be our guest speaker. Shhh...Don't tell 'cause I don't know for sure.
When I think about everything I have to accomplish, over the next 6 weeks I am tempted to cry, BUT somehow it will get done! There is no if, ands, or buts about it. Right?
I have scheduled my comprehensive exams, which will be Friday, May 11th from 11-2pm. My final project for Public History is due April 25th and my final essay for Policy in Preservation is due the first Friday in May. In my spare time I have to crank out a 20-30 page paper on George Hadfield and find a job. Aghhh!
Although I am confident things will work out the way they should, I have to admit I am a little frightened. What if I have to move? What if I fail comps? What if I don't get the George Hadfield paper done on time? What if I don't find a job? How will I ever meet and make friends as cool as the ones I have here? What if really do end up an old maid because I live in a small, rural southern town where the only eligible bachelors are Southern Baptist and think I am going to hell? Perish the thought.
I think Scarlett had the right philosophy when coping with stress, "I don't want to think about that right now.," she used to say. "I'll think about it tomorrow." So, here's to tomorrow and 49 days until graduation!

While Desiree was enjoying the sealing, I participated in other temple ordinances while I waited. Although all temples are beautiful and have a special spirit about them, the Atlanta Temple will always be one of my personal favorites. On June 19, 1999 I received my endowments in the Atlanta Temple. Since my parents are not active members of the LDS church, Desiree's parents drove down from Kentucky so Christy (Desiree's mother) could be my escort.
After serving as a missionary guide, on Temple Square, I attended the Atlanta Temple weekly. Needless to say, it was like my home away from home. I regret I can not say the same about the Washington, DC Temple. Perhaps one day I will resume my weekly habit of attending the temple but for now I continue to be a slacker.
Unable to find Desiree inside the Temple, I found her outside with the bride's family. To my surprise, the wedding photographer was none other than Amy, a girl I had known from the Mt Park Branch. Amy and her husband met while attending Mt Park and then eloped a few months later to the Columbia, SC Temple. They now have a beautiful son named Zane who is pictured above. The coolest thing about the delivery was Amy's husband performed while the midwife supervised. He has the most gorgeous blue eyes I have ever seen, on a baby, and he loved to slobber all over my shoulder and suck on my necklace as I held him. I just couldn't resist introducing you to Zane.

Almost twenty minutes later the bride and groom came out for photos. By this time I was freezing and promised Desiree we would get photos at the reception. Promising to meet Ron for lunch at 1:30 pm we raced over to the Perimeter Mall to find Ron waiting at The Cheesecake Factory.
Not many people, outside my close circle of friends, know about Ron. Ron and I met while working for Gwinnett County. Ron is an electrician who works on County buildings. I was the Historic Sites Interpreter and my office was based in the Gwinnett History Museum. After a few casual conversations Ron started bringing me lunch or stopped by just to chat. We became friends and remain so to this day. He calls frequently and we email several times a week. For the past three years, Ron has offered encouragement, helped me move, and fixed our pool pump. He is one of Georgia's finest native sons which is evident in his mannerisms and accent. Although we keep in close contact, the last time I saw Ron was two years ago. It was nice eating lunch and catching up with a close friend.
After lunch we drove up to Marietta for Jenny and Adam's reception. Adam's last name is Greene which influenced the couple's decision to have a St. Patty's Day sealing and themed reception. Jenny's mother made a mint-brownie shamrock groom's cake for Adam, which turned out beautifully. One of Jenny's uncles made me stand on a chair so I could get the perfect shot of the masterpiece. Although I took a lot of photos at the reception, all available for your viewing pleasure on Facebook, I will spare you. After seeing the couple off, Desiree and I hopped in the Trailblazer and headed home, making our stay in Atlanta just shy of twenty-four hours. Sadly, Desiree and I will not be crashing any more weddings this year, at least none that are currently planned, but, I am hoping she will be able to make my brother's in August. I am dying to introduce her to my coal mining, West Virginia living, redneck family, whom I love dearly. I don't know what I'll do when Desi gets married but that is one wedding reception I can't wait to crash.

What are three LDS girls to do on a Friday night in Atlanta? Well, Will, who didn't know we were Mormon, suggested we hang at Swinging Richards or other strip clubs. This is where my flirtation with Will abruptly ceased. Steph and I agree it is a little suspicious for a man to encourage women to go to a strip club. We even think Will may have been swinging the other way.
I, being the boring homebody I am, suggested we call it an evening but Desiree and Marlise wanted to go out. Thinking that dancing would be fun we called around to see if anything was happening. Our answer; a church dance at the Brockett building. Marlise jokes Brockett reminds her of Sprockett from SNL. The only thing exciting about this dance, for me, was seeing a few people I attended church with at the Mt Park Singles Branch and being close to where I used to live. Other than that, I abhor church dances. They are absolute torture. Its like reliving middle school dances all over again. Guys in one corner girls dancing in groups and acting ridiculous for three hours on the floor. I can't believe church dances continue to exist.
I snapped the photo above during the dance. This group of guys played video games the entire night. Not once did I see any of them ask a girl to dance. If I were in charge of the world, or at least church dances, that would not be allowed. Capeche?

Being the oldest chickens on the dance floor Marlise, Desi and I showed those spring chickens what it meant to "drop it like its hot." Well, actually it was more like Marlise and Desi. I spent most of my time chatting with old friends. When the dance lagged, because Keith has really bad taste in music, we entertained ourselves by taking photos. We really aren't that vain.

When the dance was over we headed back to Marlise's for some hot chocolate by the fire. Marlise, being the perfect hostess, tucked me in, piling a ton of blankets and even a beach towel on top of me so I wouldn't get cold. We talked for most of the night, sharing stories, talking about past relationships and then about the future. Desiree fell asleep long before Marlise and I ended our conversation but it was great to catch up.
The next morning we celebrated St. Patty's Day with smoothies. Marlise makes the best smoothies hands down and she even surprised us by putting them in St. Patty's Day glasses. The green straws were the perfect addition. Since Desiree and I didn't get out of bed until 11 am we had to scramble to get ready. Jenny's sealing was scheduled for 12:30 and Desiree had to be at the Temple by noon.
Standing outside Marlise's building I snapped one last photo as we said our goodbyes. Good friends are more precious than gold and Marlise is definitely one of those. Although Atlanta will not be her home much longer I sincerely hope our paths will cross again. Whether it be in Utah or Canada, I'm not sure but one thing I do know, with this girl, I am guaranteed a good time.

My favorite bbq in all of HOTLANTA is Daddy D'z. Many Atlantans will argue Fat Matt's Rib Shack is the best but its only because they are too scared to venture into the hood for some five star, that's right 5 star, pig.
How did I get from Kentucky to Atlanta? Well, Thursday evening Desiree, my best friend from Kentucky, flew in from Salt Lake so we could drive to Atlanta for another wedding. Our parents have taken to calling us the Wedding Crashers, a title we earning respectfully. Anyway, Marlise, a friend of Stephanie and I, found out we were coming into town and invited us to stay at her place. Arriving around dinner time we decided to hit Daddy's in downtown. Located on Memorial Drive, it is not the safest area for three young women to be after dark but it was really entertaining watching Desiree freak out. I guess Hawaii and Provo don't have ghettos like Atlanta does. Can't wait to show her around DC.
As soon as we walked in the door, we owned the place. Spying a man with a Piggly Wiggly shirt on I grabbed him and said, "I need a picture with you." He turned around and said, "get one of the back. It's much better," and he was right. I love the slogan! "Big on the Pig" By the end of dinner I was big on Will.
Not content with just a photo of his backside, although it wasn't half bad, I made him turn around for a face shot, which wasn't bad either. Can you see how much he's enjoying this? Actually, he was the perfect gentleman all evening. He even kicked a couple out of a booth because I told him we wanted one. I love it when men do exactly what I want!! Don't worry Steph. I gave him a very generous tip.
After our food arrived Will took this photo of us. This is the first of several he took before we left Daddy's. I will spare you the rest but they are just as cute. Although Marlise and Desiree were worried about "where I had taken them," once they were eatin' they were all compliments. Marlise even asked if they sold the sauce so she could take it back to Canada with her. I was so relieved the girls liked it because one can never be sure. At least it was an adventure for them both. Stick with me ladies, and you'll always eat right and play hard.
Just to give you an idea of what Daddy's has to offer this is a photo of my meal. As you can see I ordered the pulled pork bbq with potato wedges, white bread, and candied yams on the side. As Will says, "anything fried at Daddy's is good," and he's right. Other sides include collared greens, which Desiree tried and hated, corn on the cob, cornbread, beans, coleslaw and fried okra. Although there beans are good the yams are much better and no other side is worth sacrificing the potato wedges for. Trust me! I know. So the next time you are in the "Capital of the South" you must make your way down to Daddy's. Tell Will I sent you.

A man once responded, when I told him I grew up in Kentucky, that I came from the land of "pretty horses and fast women." Although the popular saying is really the opposite, "pretty women and fast horses," it is indicative of Kentucky's reputation as the horse capital of the world.
When I think of Kentucky five things immediately come to mind; horses, UK basketball, tobacco, KFC, and bourbon. As a little girl I dreamed of having a horse of my own. One of my best friends, Kerry Lynn Taulbee, took horseback riding lessons in Lexington at stables located across from Keeneland. Although my parents could not afford for me to take lessons I went with Kerry Lynn so I could watch. After her lesson we would visit all the horses. There was one horse, Alf, who we especially favored. Every week we would buy a can of coke, pop the top, and then watch as Alf drank the soda from the can. No matter how often we saw Alf perform we never grew tired of the novelty. Kerry and I used to pray God would make us short so we could be jockeys. Well, God came through for me on the height but I bypassed the maximum weight for a jockey in high school.
When I was in sixth grade my mother sent me to horseback riding camp at Morehead State University. For one week my entire life centered around cleaning, grooming, catching, riding, and showing horses. I learned the difference between English Hunt seat saddles and Western saddles; I prefer English but mostly ride western. I gained an appreciation for quarter horses and would like to own one someday.
When I was fifteen my dad, who had purchased a farm, surprised me with a horse for Christmas. Her name was Lucy and the coolest thing about her was she had been a pacer at The Red Mile. The Red Mile is a racetrack in Lexington and is a great place to spend summer afternoons, if you love horses or can't afford tickets to bigger racing events like the Derby.
I only had Lucy a few years before my dad sold her. I haven't owned a horse since.
However, my love for horses and racing has continued. One of my greatest dreams is to attend the Kentucky Derby before I die. I always get so emotional when the horses parade before the stands as the University of Louisville marching band plays My Old Kentucky Home. I can't imagine what it must be like to witness it in person.
This semester I am taking a Public History course with Dr. Noralee Frankel. For my final project I am designing a small exhibit about African American jockeys and the important role they played in the early years of the Kentucky Derby. During spring break I decided to take advantage of the Keeneland library's archives. The librarians were gracious and the facility was, as Jacqueline described it, serene. Next to the Library of Congress, it is my favorite library to do research in.

While I was there I took photos of some of the photographs they had, since they wouldn't copy very well. The photo above shows the famous Jimmy "Wink" Winkfield who won the Kentucky Derby in two consecutive races (1901 & 1902). "Wink" not only became one of the best American jockeys but he earned the same status as a jockey in Europe, riding for dignitaries such as Czar Nicholas. When the revolution broke out, Winkfield fled to France where he started breeding and training horses. In 1960, Winkfield returned to Louisville to participate in an award ceremony at the Brown Hotel. Segregation was still prevalent in Kentucky so Winkfield, despite being the honoree, was invited to use the side door. When he refused, the hotel made an exception. Winkfield returned to France, never to settle in the United States again. Alonzo Clayton was only fifteen years old when he won the Kentucky Derby, making him the youngest jockey to ever win the "Run for the Roses." In addition he won the Jockey Crown, an award given to the jockey with the most winnings at an event.
Finally, this is a shot of "my table" where I spent an afternoon trying to focus on newspaper articles and jockey bios while my mother rattled on about Seabiscuit, who was never a Derby contender and popped her gum. Sometimes I wonder how much patience God thinks I need to learn. Actually, the other patrons were just as bad. I do appreciate the memory we made, and look forward to returning to the library set among the rolling, green hills of Kentucky and her majestic horses that make her famous. Who needs the beach when you can go home?

Amber introduced me to a new website to track my reading. As I thought today of what I'd read, the list totaled 200. Right off the top of my mind. When I got home I discovered about 130 others that I had on my shelves. And everytime someone speaks, I think of another title.

I'm starting to wonder what the total hours I've consumed by reading total. What else could I have done with that time? And aren't I happy I spent it the way I did?

After I had reached my threshold for my Mother's nagging, I caved and went over to Lexington to spend the night with her at her new apartment. This is the same Mother who used to live in a nudist colony and then on a reservation. In fact, she moved to Lexington, from New Mexico, over Christmas. Where did she move? In the apartment above my brother and his fiancee. At first we were concerned about the proximity and what that could mean for my brother and his sanity but so far, so good. It is actually really nice having her nearby.
Before meeting our Mom for lunch Josh took me shopping at the Fayette Mall. Not only did he make fun of my new jeans, ( they really are granny) he picked out my new eyeshadow. Thanks Joshie!

After lunch we headed back to my Mom's apartment where she immediately put me to work cleaning, hanging her pictures and organizing her stuff. The nice thing about this was she gave me a lot of things she no longer wanted or needed. Not only did I score a set of stainless steel Reverware pots and pans but I also got her set of Henkel knives. HOT!

This is a photo of our favorite pizza place in Lexington, Puccini's. One should not confuse this with Papaleno's which is our all-time favorite place. Puccini's is awesome because its total '90's. They play only '90's music and the entire is decorated in '90's everything. The pizza is great and the wait staff is fun. Everyone is just chill. That's why we love it; 90's music and a chill staff. I can't wait until Joshie's wedding so I can hit all my favorite Lexington hangouts again.
Although we were going to do karaoke at Todd's plans fell through Tuesday night. So Mom and I watched Casino Royale twice, back-to-back. Why? Because my Mother argued it was the kind of movie you have to watch over and over to catch things you missed the first time. Yeah right. I think she just wanted to see Daniel Craig's royal hotness again. It's called Royale for a reason.

Walking to the baggage claim I explained to Kevin my Dad wore a Colonel Sanders beard. Since I had not seen my Dad since January I wasn't sure if he would still have it. I was so excited when I arrived at the baggage claim area and saw that he did.
My plane did not land until 8:30pm, and since I refused to pad Charlotte's economy with my hard earned dollars, I was starving. My dad and I opted for Subway, the only fast food I will agree to eat, however Publix still has the best subs. I took this photo of my dad while we were eating. He is so patient and really good about humoring me. He just sits and smiles while I snap pictures of everything.
I also discovered last night that he is an honorary Kentucky Colonel. The Kentucky legislature bestowed the honor before we moved to Atlanta in 1997 for work he did on a flood. What kind of parent doesn't mention this to his children?

Since we arrived home after dark the first glimpse I got of our new view was Sunday morning and this is what I saw. COWS! They even bellowed to me. In fact, they woke me up every morning with their bellowing. I didn't mind it though. It was fun. My dad would bellow at them and they would actually respond. It was pretty cool. Its weird. I used to hate cows but now I can't get enough. FYI. My favorites are Brahmans because they have long floppy ears.
Since my dad retired he has been buying property on Concord Road so that we can build a house. Actually there is no "we" to it. He wants to build a home where mine and Joshie's future families can come to visit. Where the grandkids, that have yet to be born, will have plenty of room to romp and where there will be plenty of room for guests. The photo above is the view to the south or the front view.
The home site will be located on the knoll at the far end of the property. One thing about the lots, they are long and pretty flat. Its exciting to think we may have horses again. I miss riding. Perhaps once the home is finished, we are planning for this fall, I can invite all my friends down for a big party. Yee haw!

Spring Break 2007 was the first Spring Break I had taken since high school. That was eleven years ago. I had originally wanted to visit Stephanie in Missoula but when my Daddy-O offered to fly me home on his dime for a week I agreed.
My trip began at Reagan where I met a girl from Tarpoon Springs, Florida. Tarpoon Springs is where I turned 28. Its a great little Greek town. Every year they host a festival and the young men dive for sponges. It is really cool. My mom bought me a little Greek dress, that I adore, and took me to Rusty Belly's for my birthday dinner. When I mentioned how much I loved Rusty Belly's to this girl, I never got her name, she told me she was a waitress there. Imagine my excitement. I told her they had the best seafood and I would love to go back one day. She said that people from all over travel to Tarpoon Springs just to eat at Rusty Belly's.



Prior to meeting our waitress I had a little spat with a jerk in the waiting area. Allow me to explain. I was already seated. I made certain I was sitting in an area where I could talk on my cell phone without disturbing anyone. I pull out my cell phone and begin to dial Steph. I stopped when this older man sat next to me and pulled out his paper. I politely turned to him and said, " Sir, I am going to be talking on the phone. I don't want to disturb you," implying he should leave if he had a problem with it. Instead of thanking me, as I would have done, he gruffly issued a humph, and stormed off. Without thinking I blurted, "asshole," and dialed Steph and related the story to her. I normally don't react that way when someone else is being a totally butt BUT this time I failed and made an even bigger ass of myself.
Kevin, pictured above witnessed the entire exchange and later related he thought I was hilarious. He had never seen a woman react with so much sass and thankfully, he totally agreed with me.
Although I didn't speak to Kevin before the DC-Charlotte flight, we quickly became friends when we both missed our connecting flight to Lexington. After complaining to one another for 15 minutes we went our separate ways. I headed to the rocking chairs and Kevin got something to eat. He later admitted that he had seen me rocking and had thought about stopping to rock with me but decided not to bother me. Men (rolling eyes). They are so clueless.
After rocking for 4 hours, I walked back to the gate where Kevin invited me to sit with him. We chatted until it was time to board. Standing in line, he invited me to go ahead of him. Since the flight wasn't full we decided to sit next to one another as well. Why end a great conversation, right?
During this conversation Kevin admitted he invited me to go first because he wanted to check out my ass. I told him he was shallow and he said I was too feisty. He advised a glass of wine every evening to calm me down. I told him didn't drink. He, on the other hand enjoys it and kept saying he needed my number so he could call me to pick him up so he wouldn't drive drunk. Do I have stupid written across my forehead?
He walked me to the baggage claim area where I ditched him for my daddy. I didn't mean to be rude but no man comes between a girl and her dad. Especially a man who admits that a woman's most admirable quality is the size of her breasts. I am SO DONE!
See how exciting Spring Break in Kentucky is? And this is just the beginning.

Today my Schmammy said to me, "I rant therefore I am." I had to laugh because I tend to agree with her.

Tonight I came home to my little trailer, minus one shed, and I was reminded about why I'm here. My lawn was mowed because my brother loves me. The kitchen was clean because I like it that way. My laundry was all piled up on the loveseat but the rest of the living room was clean. Tulips are blooming on my table and my dog barked hello.

I miss my friends in DC so much some nights that I can't understand what ever posessed me to leave. Tonight I thought, "If I could just grab some sushi on the way home, call The Posse and spend time laughing, watching hockey or something else random...sigh."

Tonight the clouds have closed in the valley, keeping the heat here until morning. I walked next door and talked to my sister-in-law for a moment and found she'd made her Amazing chocolate-chip cookies. Then, as I walked home across the drive, Derek got back from his run. I stood outside in my pink, floral longjohn bottoms and orange top--as much unaware as unashamed--and talked to him about our bonfire this weekend. And what I might do with the little plot under the shed, probably a garden. Something that can show the result of my work and be shared. About when I might feel the need to branch out and how I could get ready if that happens again.

And, as I walk back inside to do another load of laundry, I remember that I came here for exactly this. The quiet. The time with just me. I know I talk about it all the time but it's novel to me. Just me. What do I do with that?

And, suddenly, the possibilities seem endless. But first, whites.

Last week, I decided to call my Grandma Kidd just to talk. She always says the darndest things. Plus, I can't get enough of her thick West Virginia accent and all the made up words she uses, a definite characteristic of the Kidd family.
While we were discussing the possible reasons for my singlehood, she asked, "has anyone ever swept under your feet?" I replied that I was sure at one time or another someone probably had swept under my feet. She explained, "well, when someone sweeps under your feet that means you are not getting married." Finally, an answer!
Worried there may be some substance to Grandma's theory, I asked if there was a way to counter the curse. "Not that I know of," she said. Wonderful. Since I couldn't remember a specific incidence where someone had done the evil deed (sweeping under my feet) perhaps there was hope.
Hope is interesting. It can be very short-lived, especially when two days later, while sitting at Manuel's someone sweeps right beneath your feet. I couldn't believe it. I literally screamed, which made Kim laugh because she knew exactly why I was screaming. I had told her about the conversation with my Grandma. So, resigning myself to fate I decided that marriage was never an option. Oh well... who wants to live with a stinky, stingy man anyway? Besides it doesn't mean I won't ever be loved by a man just married. That's something, right?
Victory!!! Today, my dad was chatting with an elderly woman at Union City Grocery and she related to him that her mother had told her the same thing BUT ( I love there is a "but") if a woman sees a man she wants to marry all she has to do is sweep around him three times and she will be his bride. I am not sure how long it will take but it supposedly works. Vacuums will not work ladies, it must be an old-fashioned broom. So grab your brooms and get busy.

Today has been "off" from the beginning. I didn't know what was wrong until I saw the blog of a dear, geek friend reminding me that I had not celebrated Pi Day! I know, I know. I was shocked too! How could I have forgotten!?

On my way home I am going to acquire a French Silk that will put this all right.

As I said to my loved ones today, Here's to being irrational and unrepeating!

Every Thursday, after class, Eve and I ride the METRO home together. It is so convenient because Eve's stop is just before mine, giving us plenty of time to chat during our journey. I anticipate these evening conversations because Eve is not only extremely intelligent, she is wise and quite funny.
This evening, the topic of conversation was relationships. Eve is married to an attorney who makes killer chapino. She always has wonderful advice for a woman like me, who is frustrated by the lack of dedicated, honest, intelligent, humorous men out there who are willing to commit to a relationship. What makes my situation more complicated than most is I am interested in dating LDS men only. I have dated non-LDS men in the past, and am almost to the point where I would consider doing so again, but I realize its futile for several reasons; reasons I will not discuss at this time.
While expressing my frustrations to Eve about my dating experiences, or lack thereof, a gentleman and he was that and oh, so much more. Meaning this man was F-INE. Not just fine. F-INE and Perfect!--that is perfectly married, supporting my theory that all the good ones are taken.
Excusing himself, he turned to Eve and I saying, "I have to apologize but I couldn't help listening to your conversation." I smiled and graciously pardoned him. Hell, I wanted him to listen. Any excuse to talk to him was fine with me. Sorry Rae.
Then he asked if he could offer some advice. Eve and I agreed that it would be interesting to hear a male's perspective and invited him to proceed.
He told me that I had to remember that all men struggle with commitment. I related that I had plenty of experience with men who were "commitment phobes" and was aware of that epidemic among men. He then said that I had to be patient. That I had to gently prod the man of my choice, delicately convincing him along the way that a relationship with me was what he really wanted. If that didn't work, I should give him an ultimatum.
At this point I interrupted and informed him that I am a "rules girl" and have been taught that it is never agreeable to push myself off on any man. That if a man was truly interested he would be happy to pursue me. I stated that I had been pursued in the past by interested men and I knew when a man was interested and when he was not. There would be no gentle prodding or ultimatums from me.
He then asked me how old the men were that I had an interest in or had dated. When I related they were in their thirties he smiled sadly and said, "there is something wrong with them. If they haven't committed by now they have issues." You think?
I returned by asking him how old he was when he finally committed to his wife. He smiled again and said, "26." My mouth dropped.
Here is this handsome, well-groomed, well-mannered, successful man who has been married for 12 years to one lucky woman, because, like I mentioned earlier, the man was F-INE and he was not LDS. Probably didn't have to get married. Could have waited until he was well into his thirties BUT NO! He was willing to commit at 26! Why? Because he is what we call NORMAL... HEALTHY and SELF-CONFIDENT.
I was not going to blog about this but Eve promised she would comment if I did. Tom, I was certain to get his name, exited the train just one stop before Eve's, leaving us little time to discuss his suggestions. Curious to know Eve's thoughts I decided to post this asap. I would love to hear other readers' opinions on this--so PLEASE comment!

Why does Patrick Swayze crooning "She's Like the Wind" play in my head everytime I think of how quickly time passed while Steph was in town. Oh wait, maybe because she was in town for all of like, two seconds? I know it was longer than that. No one has to correct me but that's the way it seemed. I don't mean to complain. I am just grateful I got to see the other half of our super hero duo.
Many of our readers may recognize the physical background in this photo as the foyer of the McLean, Virginia Stake Center, while others may not. Those unfamiliar with the abolishment of polygamy may also wonder why all these young, single women are surrounding a lone older man. Allow me to explain.
Saturday night, while traveling through Georgetown, Kate, Hugh and myself (all seated snuggly in the back seat of Kim's SUV) were discussing the practice of fasting on the first Sunday of each month. During this conversation I told Hugh that he should join us for church the following morning. Shocking everyone in the car he agreed. Steph had to leave following sacrament meeting, which is the first hour of church (Mormons do three hours) and capitalizing on the opportunity I decided to get a few more photos before she left.
Those pictured in the photo above are (L-R) Kate Kate, Kim, Rae Rae, Hugh, Steph and Melinda. I am the girl with the big hair and bright red cowgirl shirt (which I wore in honor of Montana heritage) in the front. Who says Bond Girls can not also be cowgirls? Duh. I am sure James would be attracted to a woman that can rope and ride. Besides shirts with snaps are very sexy.

Finally, here is a photo Kim snapped of Steph and I before the wind carried her back to BIG SKY country. Although I am smiling on the outside I am really crying on the inside. Do I sound pathetic? Good cause that is what I was going for. Too bad nothing I say is going to change her mind. With graduation quickly approaching and numerous historic preservation positions open in Montana, who knows, perhaps instead of whistling Dixie I will be singing with John Denver "Oh Montana...Give this child a home..." NAH. But one thing is for sure, as long as IB is there, Montana will be my second home.

So, after napping at Steph's house, Kim, Steph and I went shopping. Steph and Kim went wild with clothes and I caved in DSW and bought two pairs of shoes. One pair are tennis shoes that have little green hula girls and the word Aloha on them. They also have these semi-tacky pineapples pinned to the front. I was surprised by the number of compliments I received at the Tropical party. I love successful shoe debuts. The other pair are really cute heeled sandals that I need to buy a matching outfit for.
The tropical party was nice (Julie did a great job mixing drinks) but the party was no match for the ultimate Georgetown temptation, T Sweets. Steph and I used to go there all the time. Her flavor is butter brickle and my favorite is chocolate oreo marshmallow. Now if we could only find men who satisfied us half as much.
The photo above was taken after we finished our treats. It was Kim's first visit and although I am not 100% positive, I think she was impressed. Hugh barely ate a thing but we all had a good time. Although Steph and I are BFF we really don't have a photo we both like. Kim snapped a few of us but I think we agreed that this one was the best. I can't wait until we capture that perfect photo. Oh well...I guess it gives us something to work for. You know keeps our relationship interesting, as if we have any problem with that. Duh, we are Bond Girl and Iron Bladder. The word boring or any of its synonyms are not in our vocabulary, except when we need to write a paper. HAH!

You know what I miss most about being around my BestGoodFriend? Hugging her! It's true. This weekend I got to hug BondGirl a few times and I remember how much I love that about our friendship.

I wish I could make a BooShapedPillow to market. I'm sure at least 2 people in American Studies would buy one. What do you think, BG? Are you game to be a product so that I can hug you at my lesiure?!

Saturday morning we started the day with a yummy breakfast at Bread & Chocolate. Stephanie had been craving Greek honey yogurt so we decided to eat first and then shop. Steph's mom, Mamma Harbour or Harbie depending on your mood, treated. Did I mention how cool Steph's mom is? Well, she's pretty dang cool. I snapped this photo of Joy while we were waiting for our food. Don't worry I got her permission to keep it. Plus I think its really cute.

In case you haven't noticed I have this thing about stuffed animals. I can't resist snapping a photo of a taxadermied animal carcass. I know its weird. Sometimes I even wonder about myself but I just couldn't help feel a strange fascination for this feathered fowl. I found him on a counter inside Eastern Market.

I love Eastern Market because it was designed by German emigre Adolf Cluss, who was also responsible for Stewart's Castle (now demolished), the recontstruction of the Smithsonian Castle and other Washington buildings from the late nineteenth century.

After shopping for a few hours we called it a morning. Saturday evening's events will be discussed in tomorrow's blog because, really, who can say too much about Eddie's Annual Tropical Party?

when Stephanie's in town. Steph flew in Friday afternoon for a brief visit. To kick-off her stay, we celebrated with dinner at the California Pizza Kitchen (CPK) in the Tysons Corner Mall. Gavin, our hot South African friend, made an appearance. I snapped this photo of Gavin and Steph shortly after he arrived. Everyone comes out when Steph has a party. Looking at this photo it is easy to understand why. There is never a dull moment.

Following dinner everyone headed to Stephanie's house for games. When Mormons congregate for parties there are always games. Perry Young (pictured above) is the King of Scrabble. Stephanie, before moving to Montana, beat Perry at one game. It was such a sweet victory she scanned the score sheet into her computer. She keeps teasing Perry she's going to post the evidence on her blog. Having witnessed the event, I can't wait to see it.

Perry's luck was challenged again on Friday when Hugh and Charlene teamed up for an entertaining Scrabble match. They say that by small and simple things, great things are brought to pass. Well, who knew the word "week" could catapult a team into sure victory? I didn't but I witnessed it on Friday. After Charlene put down W-E-E-K on the board there was no stopping the dynamic duo.
Finally, here is a photo of the Scrabble losers. I can't recall if Perry or Stephanie came in second and third, respectively, but Duane and I had the lowest score. I thought we had a chance when Duane used our "Q" to spell Queen, but alas, it was no match for Charlene and Hugh. I am not a competitive person so I didn't mind losing. I was having so much fun teasing Duane I found it difficult concentrating on the game. From this photo, ladies, I am sure you can understand why.