in which the wedding guest makes a request

When the wedding invite says, dinner and dancing, please follow through with food substantial enough to be considered dinner.

Or, simply state "hor d'oeuvres and dancing" (dancing hor 'doeuvres?).

This guest would have been quite happy, at this point preferred, to feed herself in one of the many restaurants she passed on the way to the wedding location.

If you do serve hor d'oeuvres only despite the misleading invitation, please see to it that enough are served to accommodate all of your guests. As opposed to empty chip baskets and dip depleted bread bowls.

You could also have the wedding in a town bigger than a thumbnail so that your borderline hypoglycemic guests can order pizza past midnight.

Failing these requests? Your guest, in anticipation of a reception meal, might just

(1) eat very little by day 

(2) confidently slurp stout drinks 

(3) feel slightly feint at the sight of empty hor d'oeuvre platters 

(4) continue drinking with a vengeance because by now friends know her drink and are happy to retrieve from the open bar without being asked and, doesn't that feel nice? to be brought drinks without having to ask?

(5) make way to the dance floor, flinging toward only slightly willing partners (any pulse will do!) 

(6) attempt line dancing

(7) fail miserably

(8) realize through blurred vision that a meal never did follow the nearly non-existent nosh

(9) black out for an hour, or two (repeating #5-7)

(10) eventually find herself back at the hotel, stumbling through the corridors in search of vending machines and, finding nothing more substantial than a Twix bar, progress to the night clerk slurring, pith-zza? pith-zaa delibbery? only to discover there is no food delibbery within 40 miles 

(11) cry sloppy tears
(12) drink some more 

(13) wind up passed out drunk, face down on the end of her hotel bed, husband's lifelong friends meandering and conversing above her big ass, undoubtedly wondering why the furk, at her age, she hasn't learned to handle her booze and, probably, assuming it must be a Jersey thing.

Yes. So. Wedding planners? Meals are appreciated (but only if promised).

And bride in ballet dress and gold slippers?  You looked adorable. 

Which is all that really matters.  

monday's music moves me, too

Through A Daft Scots Lass I linked up with Xmas Dolly's Monday's Music Moves Me to share a few of my favorite tunes. Thought I'd pick a few less-than-likely-to-have-been-heard-before songs.

Great way to start a Monday, my way of thinking.

This song by Sun Volt, I first heard in my first house in Austin.  A true driveway moment.  These guys played on Austin City Limits, I just learned through the internets.




Another longtime favorite, Iris Dement, is an artist few of my housemates (read, family) can understand.  Sam was kind enough to sacrifice his ears take me to see her at one of my favorite Austin music venues, the Cactus Cafe, on the University of Texas campus.

When I listen to Our Town I picture myself sitting in The Corner Bar with my longest, bestest friends.  As she appeared on Austin City Limits (and no, I have never been there):




And this artist living in Austin since before I moved here, is one I never, ever get tired of seeing.  I've seen him at the Cactus a couple times, at Gruene Hall (Texas' oldest dance hall), Unplugged at the Shady Grove and Armadillo Christmas Bazaar (just now, had to look up the spelling of bazaar no less than four times).




Hope you've enjoyed and will return the favor by plugging some of your favorite artists.

you only think your spouse is an annoying housemate

Read these roommate notes and remember how bad it was back in college.

















We're starting out with light and cute and will move our way to downright nasty.  Priggish readers, you've been warned.

Although, who would complain about heat set at 60 degrees?  Or have I been living in Texas too long?

Now, this one below?  I sent to Sam because I know he would appreciate it.  

Backstory.  There used to be a friend of one of our kids who would use up a considerable amount of toilet paper AND clog the toilet on a REGULAR basis.  Even when excessive toilet paper was not involved, still the toilet would clog, requiring big burly arm strength to get the job done.  Very loud grumbling would accompany the brute force.  

What to do?  I couldn't imagine horrifying this child with embarrassment.  Let alone call the parent.  Good restraint on my part?  Or overly considerate?  You decide. 

I'm tempted to write this on my dishwasher at home. Except my teenagers have no such inclinations and would only put a greater distance between themselves and the appliance.

 I do like how this person thinks: 

And last but not least, I wish I had seen this back in my dorm days: