I'm back! Well, sort of...

I am no longer under the influence of the Vicadin, which is both a blessing and a curse, but since my foot-growth was "enormous" to quote my doctor, I have a pretty big slash on my foot and will have to wear the fashionable post-op blue shoe for at least another week. I have another appointment next week to make sure all is well and should be healed just in time for my birthday trip to the Big Easy. Had I mentioned that? I don't think so, but now you know, me and a few of my closest gal pals are heading to New Orleans for my birthday--the big 25-- in a couple of weeks, should be fun.

Anyway, while I was away, Rachel came for a much needed but all too short visit. I swear, if I'm not married in ten years I'm just going to move in with her and then her husband and beautiful, well-mannered children will just have to deal with the moody colored woman their mom keeps in the guest house. (I won't clean but I'll cook and we'll all get along...promise!) While she was here we attended a very grown-up evening at our friend BullOdegard's house. The wine was delish as was the food. Sarah made mushrooms stuffed with freshly grated Pecorino Romano and no bacon, Rachel brought smelly cheese covered in a warm mango chutney, Linds did a tasty platter of fresh fruit with God's gift to all chocolate-hazelnut lovers for dipping and I picked fresh figs from the neighbor lady's tree and stuffed them with blue cheese and wrapped them in proscuito then warmed them in olive oil until they got all crispy and the cheese melted. It was, as I said, very grown up and very divine. Until, of course, the 80's music came into play and the wine (and pre-party happy hour Lemon Drop martini's started to show through) and what started out as a lovely evening began to unravel as side ponytails took over and Molly Ringwald dancing began and well, the pictures--or portraits as some seem to be--are living proof that grown women are really little girls with driver's license and a better sense of what tastes good to drink. Phoographic proof follows:

A group photo


An action shot: Babs was on the drill team in high school, just an FYI


And Rach was a ballerina, just don't be fooled by that look of innocence on her angelic face, I do belive she danced on a table with me once at a pub in London