Thursday Eve, Where's Adam?

I have no idea where Adam is, or even who Adam is . . . I'm married to Danny and I have a cousin named Adam; he grew up in Famington, but I am not familiar with his current housing arrangements.

Maybe I meant Adam Smoot, from our ward . . .which reminds me of Tyler McBride (also from the ward) . . . he and his wife, the darling Katie (Webb*) McBride are pregnant. She finally LOOKS pregnant. . . which is good because the baby girl's popping out any day. Up until about a week ago, Katie said she looked like she'd "just let herself go." That's funny, I don't care how you spin it.

*Btw, For those of you familiar with Erin Webb of Skyline Highschool Fame, they're cousins . . small world. Everyone's cousins with someone. Unless both of your parents are single children; then maybe not so much . . .

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Big events this week -- Danny and I officially crossed over from newlywed-honeymoon status to pure unadulterated(sp?) love this week. Dude made the terrible mistake of eating Barbacoa on Monday night and got food poisioning. And eventhough I am the Mexican in the family (seriously, my father's biological mother hails from central mexico), I do not like that place. Watery sour cream, creepy looking corn, and the smell of that joint is just not right . . . needless to say, it does not look much better the second time. . . what I'm trying to say is; my poor husband was sooooo incredibly ill on Monday night that he was puking about 3 times an hour form 9 pm until 6:30 in the morning; and when you're dealing with the sheer volume of PUKE in an 850 sq ft apartment; not all of it is making it into the toilet or a garbage can . . . no matter how hard you try.

Good news though! I officially love my husband more than my sense of smell -- and we have crossed the proverbial threshold of infatuation-newleywed love; to the real thing. . . .

I'm just glad he's feeling better. . . But what a HECK of a weight loss plan... If yoga wasn't working out so well with my overall health and wellness, I might look into a chicken burrito . . . hmmm, maybe not.

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My friend Dan from Andy Warhol's home town is going to try yoga . . . without suspenders. . . no wait, a bow-tie. That's it; I've been trying to convince him for the past 48 hours that he needs yoga in his life . . . he said fine, as long as he didn;t have to wear a bow tie. Makes sense, I guess . . . I mean everyone's got their own personal boundaries.

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To Die. . . in the Rain . . actually to deliver turkeys in the rain . . .

I looked like such a freak delivering turkeys to the homelss shelter today. My work had these turkey certificates they gave to everyone at THXgiving last holiday and they were set to expire on the last day of April. So this buddy of mine -- Spencer hyde -- (some of you may know his sister Mary Jane) -- well, he had some excess certificates that weren't used and we were going to pick up the turkeys and give them to the homeless shelter. But who has room for 10 12-lb turkeys in their freezer . . . um, not me and Danny. And not spence; so I had to take 5 of the turkeys to the shelter at lunch because they close for donations at 3.

Long story longer . . . it was raining and I'm hauling close to 50 lbs of turney in plastic sacks in the rain through the court yard of St. Vincent De Paul's trying to figure out where to take the bloody things (not literally bloddy -- you get the idea). Anyway, I looked like a ridiculous east side prat. . .

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Savasana . . . it's spelled savasana; and I need some sacred rest.

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I am going to Paris and Switzerland on Tuesday. Someone alert their prime minister . . . hmmm, does France have a prime minister?

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