Wednesday musings

Two days in a row? I hate to toot my own horn or pat myself on the back, so I'll just do this instead:

This has pretty much made my entire day.

 Attention readers: This blog post will be departing from cliche corner in 3 … 2 … 1.

This weekend is the Georgia/Tennessee game, traditionally a pretty big rivalry for us, made more intense by the fact that Derek Dooley—son of our legendary and much-admired former coach, Vince—is in his third season as head coach at UT. We're playing in Athens this weekend, which means I have four tickets to the game, and Yacht Rock is performing that night at the Georgia Theatre. Lots of friends will be in town from various places in the southeast, and the day will look like this: all-day tailgate > 3:30pm game > 8pm show > mandatory Waffle House visit.

It's going to be the perfect Saturday.

But I won't be there.

Because my cousin's wedding is at 5pm that evening. I love my cousin, and I'm happy for her, so this is all I have:

Fall weddings. (Or, as my brain reads it, fall weddings.)

I'll just let that sit out there and stink awhile, as my friend Todd likes to say. Actually, I think we all say "stank," with a drawl. For emphasis. Moving on.

Last week I still had birthday money from my parents in my wallet, and it was coming dangerously close to being wasted on practical things like gas, razor blades, and dried beans, so I did what any sensible 34-year-old (I'm performing my breathing exercises as I type that) would do—I made a mad dash for the mall. And there, in the young contemporary boutique of Belk, I found this:

My mullet shirt: Business in front, party in back. 

It was the last one, and it was my size. I took that as a sign from the Lord. I also walked out with a cami and two pairs of Michael Kors jeans that I needed, and I don't even have to put quotes around that word. The jeans are on their way to being broken in, but I'm saving the shirt for a date night. I hope I get to wear it before 2017.

Always around this time of year, I disappear—mostly to attend football games—and this doesn't usually sit well with my friends in town. They make a lot of snarky remarks about my "hibernation" and how they'll see me in the spring. I sorta feel bad for dipping out on the last half of the year, but come on. THIS IS WHERE IT'S AT.

It's a little blurry, but I was jumping around, waving a shaker somewhat aggressively, and taking a picture. Something was going to be sacrificed.

I checked my Instagram feed to make sure there wasn't anything else interesting you guys just really needed to hear about, but I found that my stream has been reduced to mostly pictures of my nephew and various shots of San Pellegrino and Goldfish crackers. I like to take artsy photos of snack time. We'll just save that riveting entertainment for another post. See y'all tomorrow.

Oh, HAY.

No fanfare, no excuses. Just easing back into this blogging thing. Again.

I've possibly chosen my busiest time of year to add something else to the ever-lengthening to-do list, but I do love to overextend myself. I'm going to phone it in today, though, with a link to a guest post I did over at Sweet. Southern. Spirited. a few months ago.

Wish me luck. Here we go—wheeeee!