Sunday, June 15, 2008

No Weekend

hula hooping girls 2
Originally uploaded by mygothlaundry
Well, it's Sunday and I am - wait for it - at work! Yeah! Not only am I at work, but I'm managing to spend money at work, which is kind of counterintuitive. I just gave a jeweler my grandmother's opal ring and a large chunk of change. In return I got a promise that in a few weeks, I will receive a gorgeous black opal pendant in the mail. I can't afford to do things like this but I decided that the ring had languished unworn in my jewelry box long enough and that if it was a pendant, I might just wear it despite the gold. My jewelry is usually either plastic or base metal, with the occasional piece of real silver: I don't do gold for the most part. Now I will be a gold pendant wearing, beans and rice eating, poor chick. That's okay.

I stopped by the Urban Trail block party on Eagle Street last night and took this picture and some others of kids hula hooping. That's one of those Asheville things: there are people hula hooping at every single celebration you can imagine. Grand Opening of a hardware store? Hula hoopers. Shakespeare in the park? Hula hoopers. Hardcore Ashevilleins probably have them at funerals.

Then I went and had a couple - and I do mean just a couple - of beers at the New French bar with my friend S and a couple of really nice vendors from the gem show. They were a hoot; we had a good time and then I went home, ate dinner, drank a lot of water, cleaned my entire house including vacuuming and went to bed at a reasonable hour. This hangover, therefore, is utterly unfair. Boo. And in two hours I'm going to be driving to Charlotte to pick up the QOB and my brother N, who, by the way, is the one who originally coined the QOB term long and long ago, because he is actually funnier than I am. We all know this but he doesn't have a blog, so I get to recycle his jokes. I have mapquest printouts and a steely sense of determination, so everyone hope I can find the damn Charlotte train station in a reasonable amount of time. Given that it once took me something like 4 hours to find the train station in Greenville (and almost that long to find my way out again) I'm a little trepidatious.

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