Locked knees.

I was in Wichita again this weekend. I went down to see my brother, Justin, play his first big show at The Artichoke. I listened to good music, saw a bunch of friends and family, and enjoyed my favorite guacamole in the world (It is a bit strange, since said guac comes from an Irish Bar, but they put cream cheese in it and it is amazing. I promise).

I spent Saturday attempting to help alter, but mostly watching the master work her magic on, my wedding gown. After standing for what felt like four hours, I began to feel very hot and not to interested in how things were fitting anymore. Then I began to sweat profusely. I felt the blood draining from my face and I recognized all of these symptoms as eerily similar to those I generally experience after donating blood. Now, after I donate blood, I have been known to spew. Some people pass out, which I think might be a tad more dignified, but no. I spew. And suddenly there I was, in the wedding gown, mere seconds from doing something I really didn't want to do in a wedding gown. Luckily, Jonathan's mom and aunt were there with cold water and a chair and the day was saved.

I'm almost 200 pages in to Harry Potter. Gotta go read.