counting down

33 more days of being engaged. The past year has been full of planning and plotting, decisions and indecision.

People told me weddings were a lot of work. They weren't lying. We had plenty of stupid arguments about boutonnieres, and the pros and cons of buffet vs. plated dinners.

But when we sat down tonight at dinner to go over our vows, we agreed. No fussing, no fighting. We knew what we wanted and, for once, we both wanted the same thing. It's good to know that when it comes to the big stuff — you know, the whole marriage thing that follows the wedding bit — we're on the same page.

buy one buttcheek, get one free

How have I never heard of a Brazilian Butt Lift before?

Thankfully this coupon came in the mail yesterday. I must be on the "females with flat butts in Indianapolis" mailing list. Now I can quit doing lunges and squats at the gym and just get my own fat re-injected into my rear. Fabulous. That's not gross at all.

would the electrician please report to the sausage stand

That's a direct quote heard over the loudspeaker at the Italian Street Festival a few weeks back.

While I applaud the efforts and enthusiasm of the Italian Heritage Society, the Italian neighborhood in Indy just doesn't compare with the Little Italy of Boston or New York. I can forgive subpar gravy. I can forgive mediocre meatballs. But I cannot forgive frozen cannoli. There's no excuse for that. Ever.

Regardless, it was a lovely evening. Perfect weather and a great chance to practice picture-taking. And, it inspired me to try making my own gravy from scratch one Sunday evening. Thirty tomatoes and three hours later... phew. It's not as easy as you might think, folks, trust me. I'd give you the recipe, but you know... then I'd have to knock you off.