INSTABILITY!! (If I yell it, it makes it easier to deal with.) Blech. My idea of an appropriate level of instability is taking a shower at a different time of day. Not uprooting myself, casting my things to the four corners of the globe (aka my parents house in the suburbs) and living out of a suitcase and a few boxes of face wash.
So what is one thing that I CAN do that is stable? Blog. I can blog. I can blog and ignore the fact that I have one box left and it is a shoebox, into which needs to go all pillows, blankets, and a jewelry box. Oh and everything in my kitchen. Hmm.
Where was I? Oh...blogging. SO! How was my weekend in St. Louis, you say? Wow, that is very kind of you to ask. I'm so glad you did. Because I ALMOST DIED. MULTIPLE TIMES.
First, I almost died of awkwardness. On Friday we went to hear the author, Bart Ehrman speak. This was technically the reason for my trip (besides just general visiting with Michelle.) He was great. And before we left, we went up to get Michelle's book signed, which he did. We turned to leave and he looked at me and smiled. I smiled. Did I say anything? PLEASE. What kind of socially acceptable person do you think I am? No, I just kept smiling and staring, as Michelle turned and walked away. Finally, sensing the awkwardness, Bart said, "Hi." I smiled. He said "Great question." (I had managed to spew one out during the Q&A. That part had, miraculously, gone normally.) I smiled. I turned. I walked away. Well, it's good to know that I do so well in front of non-celebrities. If face-to-face with Future Husband John Krasinski, I'm sure I would be able to get out a gurgle or two before passing out/licking his face.
Second, I almost died a real, true death. We went to see Date Night on Saturday afternoon but during the preview for Letters to Juliet (Plot line: Why, this curmudgeony-yet-attractive man is forced to travel through Italy with me! I'm sure this will not end in making out with him.) there was a tornado warning and we all had to hang out in the bathroom and wait it out. As much as I love sitting on the floor of public restrooms while people dry their hands over me, Michelle and I decided to just leave. It was only drizzling on us. OR WAS IT?! In the time it took us to walk from the theater to the car, the rain started coming down in bullets. By the time we got to the first stop light, there was so much water on the street, you could have body surfed through the turn arrow. And Michelle's all, "oh it's just water!" and I'm having flashbacks to my elementary school days when the movie Twister convinced me that I would someday lose my entire family to a tornado ripping past our cellar door. And we didn't even have a cellar door. We had a split level. In the end, we turned into Kohl's and shopped around until the rain slowed. I may have bought an adorable shirt endorsed by Britney Spears for $20. I may not have. You'll never know.
Third, I almost died of alcohol poisoning. Not really at all, but it does sound dramatic that way. After we came home (having not seen Date Night and without even a rental because, between the two of us, we had seen every chick flick in existence. #moviefail) I brought a bottle of wine for us to partake in that night to go with some cheese I wanted Michelle to try. She'd never had goat cheese, brie, or smoked gouda, so I thought we'd make a festival out of it. Well she wasn't into the goat cheese, brie, OR wine. And damn if I'm going to have to lug that bottle all the way home OR let my hard-earned 4 bucks go to waste. So I did what any sensible woman with a state school-trained liver would do. I drank that bottle, so help me God. And I'm not going to lie to you. I took it like a champ. An entire bottle and I made it to church the next day. I-L-L!!
And fourth, I almost died of sheer and utter horror. Sunday morning, Michelle and I traipsed off to church. We started the morning off right, with free donuts and a Sunday School video (only thing missing was a coffee with amaretto creamer. Hey now. I have my vices, you have yours.) But I was ill prepared for what magic I was about to encounter through this video. I guess it's a series of VHSs from the 90s with some interviews of talking heads, explaining about how to read the Bible and pray and stuff like that. WELL. There was one old man who was totally adorable. He soothed me. Not sure what he said, but it felt comforting. Until he said one thing that made me almost shoot straight out of my chair. He informed the lovely viewers that when he read the Bible and came to God, he looked at it as the bride, coming to the "bridegroom," asking how best to please him.
There's so many...I don't even...I can't even...
I'm not sure if anyone saw my face. For those of you who know me (or read this post) you know how terrible I am at concealing facial expressions. I wear my emotions on my sleeves--or rather, on my eyebrows. I think they might have shot up so high this time, they became part of my hairline.
All this to say, this weekend won. It won hard. And at the end, I got to spend an entire train ride eating double-stuffed EL Fudge cookies and reading Harry Potter. So yeah. All potential deaths aside, I quite enjoyed myself.