The barefoot Bride's Maid

Between then (see below) and now (see right here), there's been one marriage, four states, two houses and a bookstore's worth of "what's up?"

Before you get excited and start looking through your old mail for a bypassed invitation, the marriage wasn't mine, and I didn't catch the bouquet. I'll leave that for the excitable folks. Rather, my best friend and adopted sister, formerly known as Trina the Bunny, is now one "Mrs. Hobbs." And despite much pre-ceremony calamity and skinny dipping, the wedding was the blast of blasts. Having pretty much already discussed her life plans with God, Trina wanted to focus not-so-much on one of those long, tedious, tear-jerking ceremonies, and went straight for the "pretty decorations, lots o' love, and a big, sexy party" philosophy.

I'm relatively certain that in the four days preceeding 4:00 p.m. on August 8th, everyone was just hoping the tents wouldn't fall over, simultaniously crushing the pastor and the cake, or some other equally horrible mishap, but then we bride's maids saw that Trina was more stunning than she has probably ever looked in her entire life, not because of the hair and the dress, but because she was so utterly overjoyed. The general expression of "meh, we're totally fine" that followed was the relief of a lifetime.

And then we got in the car and drove to Shreveport. Anti-climactic, yes? Not too much so. In all honestly, living in one's own house, within walking distance of one's own friends, at a school like Centenary... well, that might as well be the new American Dream.

Moving in was a disaster, finding enough money to pay the bills is a distaster, modifying schedules is a disaster, praying that I won't destroy the college newspaper beyond belief is a disaster, the bookstore (in all its disoriented glory) is its own disaster of biblical proportions... but in all honesty, I'd rather be here than anywhere else on earth right now.

We're having a Tiny Foods Party; you should come.