I had a couple of friends over under the guise of volunteer related stuff, but basically to drink wine and shoot the shit. Being the hostess with the mostess, I had thoughtfully opened the bottle of wine and taken a small sample, you know, to ensure it was tasty. I set out the bottle and three glasses. Our wine glasses don't match because, well, have you met me? To say that our household style is eclectic would be a nice way of saying garage sale chic.
My friends arrived, and one of them went to the kitchen to get a wine glass. And I said, hey, I've already got glasses out here. And she said, I saw that, but I want my favorite wine glass.
That's my whole story. It just cracked me up that my friend has a favorite wine glass at my house. I don't know why. Something about that just made me feel good.
Let's see, what else is going on. My efforts to cyberstalk Augusten Burrows continue to be lame and ill-thought out. He REFUSES to enter his web chat room when I am there. He refuses to acknowledge my HILARIOUS Twitter direct messages. I, on the other hand, continue to nurture our BFF-ship and am very supportive of his efforts to get a pet goat.
In news unrelated to me being a stalker, I planted a third garden bed. This whole gardening thing is way more involved than I initially thought. Apparently you have to pull out weeds and spray water on the plants. I swear, it's like having a baby all over again. I dug up what *appear* to be strawberry plants from another part of the yard and planted them in the bed with the other strawberries. Or? Maybe I transplanted weeds from one part of the yard to another. Only time will tell.
Oh, and Mother's Day. Let's see... got up at crack-o-dawn, went on an eight mile group run. Did not die, so I'm calling it a success. Came home and took a long hot bath, then ate crepes with Carlie Belle at Mon Ami. Then she and I and a couple of besties hit the Doc Marten warehouse sale, where I scored four pair of awesome shoes for myself and one for Carlie... for $10 PER PAIR. That's right. My child size foot affords me the $15 child rate, but $5 off per pair for Mother's Day. BEST MOTHER'S DAY EVER! Oh, and obligatory phone calls from the big kids, of course, which was sweet. I had money riding on the fact that I would not hear from my son (Taylor, age 20), only to get a call from him Monday or Tuesday saying, wow, I didn't even know it was Mother's Day, sorry. But no, he was Johnny on the spot.
In grown up kid news, my oldest daughter, Maggy, turned 22 yesterday. It seems completely impossible to me that I have a child who is 22 years old. I am surely not old enough for that?
On that note, it's time for my geriatric self to go to work. All day depos in a swank office downtown with overpriced yet conveniently located parking. Can't win 'em all, I suppose. (I wrote this post this morning but forgot to post it, so, heh, been there, done that.)