Yesterday the husband and I went to Madison, Mississippi for a few hours so that we could go to a party for our friends Todd and Marti. We got there in time to help with just a teensy bit of party set-up before the actual shin-dig started.

(By the way, have you ever watched about ten Southern women set up for a party?)

(No? Well, it is a SIGHT TO BEHOLD.)

(It is also a veritable festival of capri pants, but that is another story for another time.)

D and I had a really wonderful afternoon – lots of good conversation and laughs and whathaveyou – despite the fact that there were a couple of I-may-be-calling-you-“honey”-but-make-no-mistake-I-would-not-renew-our-wedding-vows-right-now-if-you-paid-me-cash-money moments in the car because of my tendency to think that I know a shortcut to pretty much everywhere.

Unfortunately, my directional hubris caused us to drive aimlessly around your various and sundry suburban neighborhoods not once but twice, and we also ended up heading toward Nashville on the Natchez Trace when really all we were trying to do was get to a Barnes & Noble on the other side of the interstate.

(NOTE TO THE INTERNET: ULTIMATELY WE MADE IT TO BARNES & NOBLE, SO CLEARLY I WAS ABLE TO GET US TO OUR DESTINATION, AND IN THE END THAT IS ALL THAT MATTERS, THANK YOU.)

D suggested a little bit ago that maybe my problem with directions is that I think I know where I’m going even when I don’t. However, I’m not so sure that it’s an actual “problem” because, HELLO, I’m relational, and taking the occasional road less traveled enables me to become more familiar with my surroundings as well as the people who live in whatever area we’re visiting.

So there’s purpose to my mapless wanderings, you see.

Oh, I do appreciate a good scenic route.

The only exception to this rule is when I can’t seem to find my way to the nearest Popeye’s, in which case I’ll immediately call a friend or family member and ask them to look up the absolute shortest route on Google maps, then plead with them to not hang up the phone until I’ve made it to the drive-thru because I CANNOT RISK A MISSED TURN WHEN FRIED CHICKEN IS AT STAKE.

I’m sure you understand.

So.

Who’s the road trip navigator in your family?

And.

How does he or she pull off this role without making everyone else in the car CRAZY NERVOUS INSANE?

I’m just, you know, wondering.

In the interest of scholarly research and all.

I am sitting in my parents’ living room watching a movie on AMC and checking email. I have no idea what the movie is called, but it has something to do with Natasha Henstridge running from scientists, Marg Helgenberger sporting a mullet and Ben Kingsley attempting to speak with a Brooklyn accent.

Also, Natasha Henstridge seems to have some sort of alien creature growing in her shoulder.

That must be terribly annoying.

Anyway, everyone here has gone to sleep except for me, and I’m in the midst of some fierce spiritual warfare because there’s a strawberry cake in my mama’s refrigerator.

And normally I would just eat the cake and be done with it, but we made a trip to the fish camp tonight, so I’ve already had fried fish and hush puppies and then several more hush puppies (are hush puppies a Southern thing? or are they everywhere? should I conduct a survey?), and I don’t really need to add strawberry cake to the caloric mix.

Of course, I probably didn’t need to add my third, fourth and fifth hush puppies to the mix, either.

However, in my defense, I drank unsweetened tea tonight, so HELLO, CLEARLY I AM VERY SERIOUS ABOUT WEIGHT LOSS.

So Martha went with us to the fish camp and she had on a darling jacket from Steinmart(s), just DARLING, and she could not wait to tell me about her trip to the new Olive Garden(s) in Hattiesburg where she got this chicken, this chicken with the most wonderful citrus sauce and you know their bread is so good! just so good! not to mention the salad which is just really, really tasty, even though she doesn’t really eat a lot of salad, she’s just not a huge fan of salad, but still, it was delicious! and the service! they had the best service! the most wonderful service!

Wonderful!

On the way home from the fish camp Martha told Mama and me all about the most stunning verbena plant she found at Walmart(s) a few days ago, and she said there were blooms everywhere! just everywhere! so many blooms that they took up the whole backseat once Martha and her friends finally wrangled the plant into the car, and Martha was so excited, I mean you can only imagine how excited she was to have found that verbena with all of those deep purple blooms, and she could not WAIT to put it on her patio, she couldn’t wait!

And then she put it on her patio and it was almost completely dead within two days.

And Martha doesn’t think that even she could kill a plant in two days, I mean it was PERFECTLY BEAUTIFUL there at the Walmart(s), but she doesn’t have her ticket anymore and she can’t take it back and she doesn’t know what in the world to do but she’s sick! just sick! because it was PERFECTLY BEAUTIFUL!

So by the time Martha finished her Tale of Verbena Woe (not to be confused with Martha’s friend Rubena, who is also PERFECTLY BEAUTIFUL but as far as I know cannot be purchased in the garden center of any local Walmart(s), nor does she, you know, BLOOM), we were back at Martha’s house, and I had no sooner started to put the car in park than my mama was unbuckling her seatbelt and opening the passenger door.

I asked Mama if she was planning to go inside, and she said, “OH NO, I wouldn’t do that – it’s late! But I just want to check on that verbena.” And before I could point out that it was PITCH BLACK DARK, Mama was walking with purpose to the patio.

Which was perfect because then Martha and I had even more time to talk about the fact that THE VERBENA, IT DIED.

Within about two minutes Mama was making her way back to the car and telling Martha to get that plant in a shallow dish of water and out of the direct sun. Because somehow, even in the COMPLETE ABSENCE OF LIGHT, Mama was able to determine that the root system was healthy but the leaves were scorched, and I did not question her diagnosis for even half a second because she has been nursing all manner of plants to freakishly healthy levels since the Eisenhower administration inhabited the White House.

She has a gift, people.

Martha was understandably thrilled by Mama’s specific instructions, and she had an extra spring in her step when she walked in her house. I think she was downright giddy at the prospect of being able to rescue her verbena.

Plus, you know, her jacket looked totally cute with her medallion necklace and monogrammed purse. And that always makes a girl feel sassy.

(Sassy!)

(Just so sassy!)

(Sassy verbena sassy!)

Have a great weekend, y’all.

Open hostility between Michael and Stanley aside, this was more of a typical “Office” episode than we’ve had in the last couple of weeks.

But I’m telling you: when we see Michael genuinely vulnerable – like he was in the last conversation with Stanley – I get the urge to crawl under a very small piece of furniture and stay there until the funny returns.

Also? Michael’s comedy routine towards the end of the episode? EXCRUCIATINGLY AWKWARD, OH MY WORD. I was begging the camera to just please cut away and MAKE IT END, I BEG YOU.

Lots of memorable lines tonight, though – definitely a classic Office blend of humor and tension.

Here are my favorites.

1. Andy and Angela’s madlib: “The tall man entered the nice building to visit a very nice man. ‘Sit down, Mr. Smith, could I interest you in any good cat food?'”

2. “Oh, Pam, those make you look so ugly. I can’t even hear you. It’s just noise coming out of an ugly scientist.”

3. “We need to get perkling a little bit.”

4. “DID I STUTTER?”

5. “I’ll use it as I would a wagon on my farm. It will be pulled by a donkey.”

6. “You’re fired like a heart attack.”

Yours?

p.s. I don’t like it when Jim is sad, thank you.

Right now I’m in Panera for the second time today. I was here for the first time when I met my friend Leigh for lunch, which was a luxurious hour of quickly devouring a chicken Caesar salad so that I could spend the rest of my lunch telling Alex to a) quit jumping on the chair b) quit pulling on the blinds c) quit interrupting, please quit interrupting, it would help Mama a whole bunch, sugar, if there could just be NO MORE INTERRUPTING.

Finally I just handed him my cell phone and said, “Do with it what you will. Punch buttons to your heart’s content. Just don’t hit the green button and we’ll be fine.”

And my cell phone idea was clearly brilliant, because as a result of it Leigh and I had EIGHT WHOLE MINUTES of quality adult conversation. What a treasure.

After lunch A and I made a quick trip to the library, ran home so that I could change clothes, went BACK by the little man’s school because I forgot to drop off some stuff the first AND second times I was there today (it was our third! exciting! trip! to the schoolhouse!), then headed over to my friend NK’s house so my boy and her girls could play while I sat on the sofa and stared off into space.

Oh, I kid. I’ll have you know that I managed to form a few words and maybe even some sentences.

So now A and his daddy are enjoying some time together, and Mama here has retreated to the well-lit, sufficiently Wi-Fi’d haven that is Panera. And I plan to sit here until I’m tired of sitting. Or until I’m tired of writing. Or until I’m just plain tired.

Hallelujah.

How are y’all?