I had a crabcake at dinner that almost changed my view of the outdoors. The underwater outdoors, anyway.

Saturday, my best friend from middle and high school, Lauren, got married. She can make me laugh like no one else can, and I love her slap to pieces. She and her husband Jon are adorable, hilarious, caring people. Totally MFEO. Lauren works in a bakery, and I can tell you that paid off in spades for her wedding. Not only were the cakes delicious, but Lauren had a hand in making them! The groom's cake was an edible recreation of their engagement spot- some hikey mountain locale. These two are big into the outdoors. Biking, hiking, camping. They like to commune with nature. In this way we could not be more different. Mike can make peace with the outdoors, but since meeting me he's grown tired of the beauty of the land, as it pales in comparison to me. That, or he knows how miserable the outdoors will make me, and in turn how miserable I will make him, so he knows to steer clear. I get itchy, frizzy, and paranoid when I am out of doors. But not Lauren and Jon. They get engaged.

The wedding was sweet and perfect. All the bridesmaids cried like babies when we saw her coming down the aisle. It was over fast, like all weddings are, and then we went into town to have dinner with some friends. On the way out of the park where the wedding was held, our caravan made some poor driving decisions (pdd) that led us to a toll-booth-like road where two (live) giant geese flanked either side of the drive way. The first 2 cars made it through, but when it was our turn (my sister was driving, I was riding), the goose on the left chose to switch sides. We slowed and waited. He hesitated. We moved forward. He started walking. We stopped. He stopped. Jake, driving the car behind us, honked. The goose slowly ambled across to the other side. Finally we were able to get through, only to come to some strange dead-end. It was so frustrating, and we were highly put-out with the lead car for steering us wrong. Jake, who was in back, drove past us to instruct the front car how to get out. We rolled down our window to hear his instructions. And he said:

"That goose was really rude, by the way. F*** that bird. Let's go."

And we nearly died laughing. It's probably one of those stories where you had to have been there. Is it? Lord, it was funny to us.

Imagine how many people will offer to buy me some green beer when they see me wearing that!

This weekend Mike and I went to Charleston. He had a school thing for part of the time, and we decided to make it our anniversary trip so I could go along and we could shell out the big bucks for a nice hotel and round-the-clock hush puppies. Do you love hush puppies like I do? I love them about 4 pounds worth. As in, this weekend I gained 4 pounds. So. Probably you don't love them like that. And that's for the best. Because when they say to add more seafood to your diet, I get the feeling they mean salmon or tuna, not so much battered and fried cornmeal blobs slathered in butter and, judge me if you must, ketchup. But you just can't go to Charleston and not eat seafood, and you REALLY can't eat seafood and not have hush puppies. There've been many studies. You can't.

Regardless, we (me + the new 4lbs. on my belly) had a wonderful time. We got to spend some time with some friends who we never get to see anymore, and we also enjoyed the most juice-like wine you will ever find. It's called Red Cat, and if you cringe at the sting-y smell and painful burn of red wine like I do, this wine will make you cry tears of joy. Because nothing is less cool than having a wine night or going to a bar with friends and being the girl who 'just can't stand the taste of aclohol. I just can't.' Am I the only one? I feel like the only one. It's just all so burny. Plus it all gives me a headache, which really bums me out. So while my friends are all light on their feet and happy after a few glasses of wine, I become fairly hostile and incessantly ask everyone for some Advil. And if I've learned anything from my dad the paramedic, it's that you're not supposed to mix one glass of 13% alcohol by volume wine with 2 over the counter pain reducers. That's just gambling with your own life.

I also got a beautiful green sweater at J. Crew that, in an ironic hush-puppy related twiste of fate, I won't be able to wear for Saint Patrick's Day tomorrow unless I can somehow find a way to sleep and tread my mill at the same time. No? Not possible?

I guess I'll just wear this tomorrow.