My baby brother sent me an email today with the subject line, "weekly hello." (He's nearly 24, but he's still a little baby as far as I'm concerned.) I think he's decided that it is part of his duty as a Young Southern Gentleman to keep up with his family, and part of the new regimen involves sending me an email every Friday. Isn't that cute? I'm taking what I can get--prior to this, our main point of bonding was that he used to make the pledges in his fraternity memorize facts about my life.
Anyway, the main news of the email was that he's going to a wedding this Saturday which will be attended by Charlie Andrews and his new wife. I used to babysit Charlie Andrews. Oh my god, bring out the walker.
Speaking of weddings, Yvette called last night and we talked for a while about Claire's wedding---you know, the one the dress is for. Luckily for me, Yvette isn't bringing her SuperSerious Boyfriend, and Erin isn't bringing her fiance, so we can all have one last girlie hurrah before I'm the only old maid of the bunch. (Plus, we can split the cost of the hotel room.)
Tonight, two of my grad school friends are coming to visit. One is a very successful tenured professor in Orlando, and the other is the one who didn't get into the UW library program and is therefore freaking out. It'll be fun, though--they're both pretty amazing, and my friend Tyson, the professor in Orlando, is a bipedal party. Plus, he's the kind of friend who is always talking about how pretty you are. That's a nice kind of friend to have around.
Saturday night, late: U.S.E. house party. That's right. Feel the love.
I really am going to introduce myself this time. I email them constantly to find out where the house parties are, and I'm starting to feel like a stalker.
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