We have been friends since the 4th grade, but live pretty far away from each other now and with busy lives and all, sometimes it's just hard to keep up.
So Val starts this blog and then gets a job and like that's more important or something, quits keeping up with her blog.
Whatever.
You can imagine how excited I was last night to see that she has not one, but two great new posts, so I headed right over and to my surprise, it was coverage of her ex-husbands wedding!
This was shaking out to be better than I thought.
Not only did I get to see a picture of her ex, and his new wife, there was more.
As I scrolled down, there was picture of someone else I knew...
It was my third and favorite ex-husband Dave!
All I can say is it's a good friend who sneaks in a casual picture of an ex for a friend.
So anyway, seeing those pictures was actually better than being there because I didn't have to do my hair or shave my legs and still got to see all the good stuff.
Ok, now I want to talk about light bulbs.
My Husband has become the Rain Man of light bulbs.
The Bubba Gump of interior lighting.
It is driving me c r a z y.
I don't know what started this irritating sudden fascination, all I know is I want to punch him in the face every time he refers to the wattage and type of any given fixture.
It goes something like this... H is for him and M is for me
H: Hey, did you notice anything different in the bathroom?
M: No
H: Well, I just installed two new 65 watt daylight bulbs in the fixture over the sink and two more in the ceiling fixture as well.
M: Great, thanks.
This is what I'm thinking.
If I wanted to take a shower in glaring daylight and see every bit of fatty, cellulose, stretch marked, over extended, unsahved part of me, I would take my showers at high noon on the deck.
Thank you, but I prefer the soft glow of a 60 watt K-Mart generic four for a dollar bulb.
I wonder if theres a twelve step program for illumination addiction...
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