No, someone did not diarrhea all over my pedicure.

My friend Leigh, surprise to no one who has met her, is a regular at a salon. She has a 17-step face washing program, spends $100 a pop on facials, custom orders her makeup, has her toenails professionally painted, and, of course, hair treatments galore.

I go to Leigh's salon to buy headbands that her stylist makes and then feel like I don't take care of myself nearly as well as I should. I barely remove my eye makeup after a couple days.

Recently, though, I joined Leigh for a beauty treatment that I'd never heard of before... not because I need my feet to be beautiful (the African bed bugs took care of that for life) but because I am a little bit of a scientist.

Her salon had just invested in some detoxification foot machine called IonCleanse. It's supposed to pull toxins in your body out through the soles of your feet, and since a few years ago I made a promise to always try everything that won't kill me at least once, I decided to try detoxing through my feet.

So, in went my feet, a few sprinkles of salt, and this weird contraption into a foot bath.
Then, they turned it on, and instantly the gross start accumulating in the water. Here's a closer look of the process, and I'm sorry if you're eating... not just because of the water but also because I know those feet are nauseating.
I was awake the entire time and no one, me included, took a crap in that bag. It smelled mildly like cap guns used to smell when you'd "bust a cap" playing cops and robbers, which was a relief considering how it looked. I didn't feel any differently, except I did have a little headache when we started and my headache was gone by the time we were done. Of course, taking 30 minutes to sit and soak my feet anywhere would have probably had the same effect.

You're supposed to compare your foot doodie color to a chart to find out where most of your toxins are and mine were definitely liver flavored. I also had some weird blackish flakes/clumps floating in my water that were allegedly heavy metals that had been drawn out thanks to the ionic charge difference.

My scientist self isn't as interested in research as it is in foot-soaking experiments, so I brought the evidence home to Mr. Wizard Thomas and intrigued him with my story just enough to get him to find answers on the internet. He's the best when it comes to research... and fixing flat tires.

He managed to find these skeptics who are also scientists who found a way to extract toxins from a wire hanger, proving that actually no, those are not toxins coming out of my feet, they are rust pieces from the wire in that little cylinder contraption in the water.

Interestingly, Mack had tried to use a similar technique earlier this year to get rust off of the inside of a motorcycle gas tank. His experience involved a battery and a hanger and what could have been 10 years if he had seen it through to the end. And it wasn't even close to relaxing.

And it IS a girl!!

Which proves I do know everything. Like we all suspected.
I don't know if you'll think this is as cool as I do, but my favorite thing about this ultrasound photo is this sweet baby girl's chin... or no chin, rather. When Ben was a baby, he also lacked a chin. And that meant there was nothing to stop his drool. And that meant he was a delicious drool factory.
I know the 4 month picture irks Leiah to death... that different pose and different bikini just makes her OCD twitchy... but I kinda like it. That swirly month of August needs something to make it stand out and this is a good visual for demonstrating that even when shit falls apart, you can put it all back together (and sometimes make it better) in less than 30 days.

Yea!! Another girl!!

Modern Lines of Communication

Last night, I ran into Laila on Google chat, and about 3 minutes later we were sitting on the chair in the Thomases living room, eating virtual pizza, giving virtual hugs and feeling for a few minutes that we were right there with them.

Laila likes to show us her things (hamster, toys, shirt) and make ugly faces while we chat with her and her mom, which means she is on the cusp of teenagedom even though I still think of her as a kindergartener. She's also become quite the pianist and likes to use our video chats to offer demonstrations of ways that she is better than me.

Last night during dinner, she had us sit on the chair next to her and gave us a little mini recital, and the whole exchange was so nothing like I thought it would be when I was her age, when the phone company released CALL WAITING!!!! and relieved the murderous thoughts Shannon and I were having for one another, that I just had to take a photo of it.

This is why technology is awesome.

TIA

Ghana. West Africa. "We welcome everyone. If you are a pedophile or a sexual deviant, you are not welcome." Women with babies on their backs and baskets on their heads. Red orange dirt roads, pot holes, tro tros so full people exit through windows. Groundnut stew. Two Ghana cedi. Goats napping in the middle of the road. Castles, ruins, slavery. Vibrant wooden canoes that take a village to launch. Villages on stilts. Boat rides through the ominous stillness of a jungle. Lagoons known as maternity wards. Life is strong in Africa. Monkeys at the Dutch-run sanctuary. "The only animal I ever took care of before this was a goldfish." Sweeping garbage into the gutter. Cooking over an open fire, even in the middle of a city. Ideas, Confidence, God Knows Best Bicycle Workshop. Machetes and naked men walking from where to where. Obruni, obruni, obruni! Black Stars and impromptu football games against kids in underwear and flannel shirts. Radio outbursts, rasta versions of Celine Dion, a strange fascination with country music. "If it's not on, it's not in." Coconuts for lunch. Kola nuts. Coffins for sale where you buy your bed. Don't shit about, but if you do happen to shit your pants just take them off and leave them on the side of the road. Inner city cattle drives. Half-finished buildings made of concrete blocks that now have corn growing out of the floors. Cooking lessons with Nana. Star beer. Dan the Pancake Man and his friend Frank the Juice Man. Two hundred year old rainforest trees. A canopy walk through Kakum National Forest, with monkeys jumping around the treetops below. Vic Baboo's Cafe with food so good you don't mind the giant rat passing through the dining room. A laundry debacle that lasted three days. The Unofficial Squirrel Rescue Organization. Universe serendipity and meeting the Las Vegas angels. Nigerian movies featuring demonic possession or domestic violence. Morning wake up calls courtesy of roosters. A feverish night spent in a rank prison cell at Al Hassan hotel. Green oranges, hard boiled eggs, onion crackers, Guiness Malta, Milo. "The future is our middle name." The 3am call to prayer during the 3am walk to the bus station. Navigating the female urinal for the first time. Mud huts, bucket showers, yams and red sauce. Lisa, Ann-Katrine, Oliver, Joke, Capito. Afternoons spent playing cards, drinking Obama water, cleaning wounds. Ozzie in his sweatshirt, no underwear, playing football. A walking safari that was one of the most incredible days of my life. Swimming elephants, baboons, warthogs, tse tse flies, antelope, water bucks, bush bucks, black cobras, walking elephants. Hiking through mint. Iamfinethaaaaankyou. Being serenaded with If You're Happy and You Know It in exchange for bouncy balls and silly bands. Bed bugs. Mack the Magic Man. Drinking beer on the roof, waiting for the Milky Way. Cape Coast, Beyin, Busua, Accra, Kumasi, Tamale, Larabanga, Mole.

Love Tours (part 3 of 3)

The finalish stop on the epic Love Tour of 2010 was northern Indiana for a family reunion. I'd literally been home about a week after Lake Charles when it was time to go again, but this time I had Shannon, Leiah, Renee, Ben and Sacagawea with me. Sacagawea is what we named my mom and dad's minivan last summer when my parents did a Lake-ation tour around Kentucky, and boy did she come through when it came to babies on the road.

We loaded up on road snacks (Doritos for the pregnant lady, beers for Aunt Shan the navigator, goldfish and fruit snacks for the babies) and left after Shan got off work on a Friday. The drive was pretty uneventful thanks to the in-van DVD player, but there were moments of toddler potty training emergencies. When they gotta go, they gotta go, and one time Renee, who'd been seduced by the promise of peeing in the grass at Aunt Tina's house, insisted she get to pee in the grass at the gas station. Luckily it backed up to a corn field, like most things in Indiana, so Auntie Am, Master of Peeing Outside in a Forward Squatting Fashion, helped Renee fulfill her dream of peeing in the grass.

There was also that Wizard of Ozian tornado that threatened us the last 11 miles of the trip, but Shan broke out a beer to cope with the fact that we may have to lay on top of babies in a ditch and everything was fine.

Once we got to Tina & Tony's house, things settled into awesome. I swear there were so many boys there it felt more like a fancy fraternity house than the residence of a middle-aged couple whose kids are grown. But then, really, that's just how Tina & Tony's house has always been -- the place to hang out, lose track of entire seasons, eat good food, and drink beer out of oversized cans.

Our cousins Nate and Tee showed the babies the kitty in the barn and gave the city kids a lesson in feeding sheep. I'm a proud member of the city kids. Then our cousin Andrea, with her due-soon belly, her husband Mitch, and her uber cuties Kennedy and Jaden, came over to hang out too. We crowded into the kitchen over one of Tina's famous veggie pizzas and talked way too much while Renee pushed one of Tina's chihuahuas around in a baby doll stroller.Saturday, after the babies had a nap, we hit the road to Hoover for a Scott family reunion at Uncle Carl & Aunt Bea's pig farm. We used to go swimming in the pond at the back of the farm when we were kids, and you'd have to drive through some of the grossest smells ever and a small creek to get there. They've moved the pigs somewhere downwind (thank god) and moved what used to be the bridge to my Grandma's house over the stream at Carl and Bea's. That's progress, 12 Mile-style.
Ben and Renee seemed to be having a nice time walking through the tall grass and over a bridge to a little island in the middle of the pond, which was drained for some reason. Leiah, Shan and I sat and watched them throw sticks and rocks into the empty hole, and Ben got his chance to pee outside, this time on a tree.

I am such a good influence.
The family reunion was good, although I greeted most of the people with, "Hi, I sort of remember playing with you. I'm Amber, of Greg." Weird for a family reunion, I know, but thanks to Facebook, next time I'll know who these people are. Although thanks to Facebook, they are probably dumbfounded at how they can be related to my Buddhistish Socialistish Unemployedistish ass.

At least the babies were adorable. Babies make everything better. Other people's babies that I am the auntie of, that is.

And I found my long lost foot twin. I always wondered who needed smacked for giving me these Flinstones... turns out it's all Scott.
Spending a couple hours at the pond helped Ben and Renee recalibrate their standards, so by the time we visited Aunt Becky, Uncle Vince and Cousin Isaac that evening, Ben had settled into running around shirtless and falling in the grass and Renee was just fine eating dirty strawberries out of the garden.
Our cousin Ryan came over to drink Miller High Life (it's better than low life, haha!) and introduce us to his fianceish Jessie.
We sat on the patio, cracking up at our hilarious Aunt Becky and trying to fight off the mosquitoes with citronella lamps. In the middle of one particularly painful laugh session, Uncle Vince came to the door from inside and said, "I just want you to know that the children are naked and I had nothing to do with it."

Then Ben in his Toy Story tennis shoes and Renee in nothing but her birthday suit came running out of the house having the time of their lives being crazy deliriously happy naked babies. Too bad they didn't pull that stunt at family reunion...

Becky's house had really felt the brunt of the storm from the day before (corn was blown sideways and trees were down everywhere), so we decided to go back to Tina's house since we weren't sure if they were going to get the power back on at Becky's. By the time we left, it was past 11 pm, we'd visited no less than 100 people and, holy smokes, there is only so much love to go around.

As we were pulling in to Tina's we got a text that Mitch, Andrea's husband, had collapsed at a wedding and was on the way to the hospital. What a panicked, awful night that was. Mitch spent a long time in a coma (he had something aneurysmish) but came out of it and is in therapy now. And Andrea just had her baby, Brogen Wayne, a couple days ago.
Finally, I am up to date! Ish.

Love Tours (part 2.66 of 3)

(Yes, this has been two-plus months in the making...)

Soooo, after Memphis, it was time to head to Lake Charles, a place that should be left to mosquitoes and alligators and parasites and a place that I would never visit if some of the best people in the world named Amy and Liz didn't live there. I'd visit them in hell (both of them are very good Catholics, so it's more likely to end up the other way around).

The last time I was in LC was for Amy's wedding, but this time I was there for Liz's wedding AND to see Amy's baby, a chunky butt who is so cute she's lucky I'm not a kidnapper.
Liz's wedding was jam-packed with get togethers starring giant amounts of food and more family members than can really fit in a normal sized house. But somehow, they all squeeze in and fill the room with loud laughs and answers to any question you might ever have.

The first get-together was a Hey, People Are in Town So Let's Barbecue. To Cajuns, barbecue means eat outside, so instead of firing up the grill, Liz had Chris pick up a pizza that was so big it would only fit in an SUV. (I had a picture of Liz and a baby with the empty pizza box that really showed off this pizza's enormity but the computer goblins snatched it.)
After cleaning out that box (and another one half that size), we all sat outside and watched sweaty kids run around the backyard. At one point Amy and I got them organized into a game of red light green light and then there was a pretend eye injury that lasted a couple days. It's like they always say, it's all fun and games until somebody gets a pretend eye injury.

Liz's dream wedding involved a photo booth area, so we did a little web searching and found a way to finagle her computer into a photo booth that automatically prints photos. The night ended with a practice round, and once that final piece of the puzzle was slid into place, Liz officially relieved herself of wedding duties.
The next night was the rehearsal dinner night, so we headed over to Chris' parents' house to cram dozens of people into one house, a house unified by rice and ettouffe. I'm telling you, these Cajuns have a knack for making plenty of room, no matter how many people you have.
After a brief fire performance, the distribution of presents and letting Sam put a spell on me with his sparkling green eyes, we all went to Annie's, my other best friend in Lake Charles, to toast the soon-to-be Domingues.
I'm not sure if it was intentional or not, but I think Liz's peacock-inspired wedding may have been partly inspired by Annie's. It's total kitch, total biker bar, totally worthy of being one of the bars Patrick Swayze "cooled" in Road House... really nothing like what Liz's wedding was except in its shared awesomeness and peacock-y bathroom.
Wedding day was a blur of last minuting and beautifying. We popped over to the reception hall to set up the photo booth, grabbed some Middle Eastern food (LC is coming up in the food department... that stuff was delish!), and watched as Liz transformed from cozy Saturday girl to stunning bride-to-be.
Brides are always pretty. White dresses and styled hair and professional makeup has a tendency to do that to a girl. But Liz, she was the most beautiful I'd ever seen her before. She took my breath away (and her mom's and her baby's) with how gorgeous she was.

I'm so happy for Liz. I've known lots of her boyfriends over the 20 years we've known each other, and finally, FINALLY she picked a good one. I think she and Chris are definitely going to be a happily ever after.

Congrats my dear Elijah. I love you so much and am so grateful I got to share this day with you.

All I'm Sayin' Is You Better Be a Girl

I know, I know, I promised you Africa and I owe you Liz's wedding and a family reunion and a full account of that impromptu open heart surgery that's officially a Scott tradition, but there's CPR classes and dieting and moving sisters and pregnant ladies that just keep getting in the way. Plus, I miss Jen.

It'll all be here this week or else it will be forgotten and we will move on/resume in present time.

In the meantime, here's Leiah, a rotund 17 weeks and counting. We're not sure yet if it's a boy or a girl, but we are certain it's Mexican. We are also certain that it will be wearing girly clothes if it is a boy. We are also certain that WE WANT A GIRL!

Let Freedom Ring

On July 3, the day before we left for Ghana, we had a little cookout/going away/4th of July party, complete with a grill, a cooler full of beer and a blow up swimming pool.

Then I got so busy with going to Africa, being in Africa and coming home from Africa, I am just now able to offer you, the six of you who can't live without glimpses into my life, this photo essay from that day.





After Africa, I am loving America extra hard right now. Stay tuned for so. much. more.

I'm in Africa.

And it is awesome.

That is all.

Nanti ye,
Amber

My Boyfriend's Back...

Love Tours 2010 (part 2.33 of 3)

After Gio's wedding, I had about 48 hours at home before it was time to set out on the second major phase of Love Tours 2010... the part that involves Liz and Chris.

But, since I am a weenie who doesn't like to do anything by myself, I got my wife, Leigh, to take a half road trip with me to Memphis. I figured, hmmmm, I ride with Leigh to Memphis, and then I'll only have 8 hours by myself from Memphis to Lake Charles.

Leigh found a one-way ticket back to Kentucky for $76 and it was a Memorial Day weekend plan. We were going to Memphis to visit Leigh's cousin.
I met Tara and her ridiculously cool kids at one of Leigh's family get togethers and it sort of felt like we were kindred spirits even though we were only around each other for about an hour. But when I walked into Tara's house in Memphis and saw all the art and heard her big laugh, it felt like being at home.

So much so that within an hour of being there, I took a shower and followed it with a nap on her couch.

Two of Tara's ridiculously cool kids were off on ridiculously cool adventures, but the youngest, Sam, was at home, and he, like Leigh, has magical eyes that put people in a trance and get them to hang on his every word.

And now, my love letter about Sam. Because I love him.

Sam is so cool. He draws robots with extensions that are specialized for flipping hamburgers and cleaning ceiling fans. He wears tie-dyed t-shirts and worries that pink corduroy shorts might make him gay. He walks from room to room carrying a hot wheel with three oozie-like things coming out the top and sometimes transforms it into a finger blaster with the addition of a rubber band. He likes cinnamon rolls and is quick to demonstrate his milk chugging prowess. His philosophy about brushing his teeth is why bother, they just fall out anyway -- a thought pattern affirmed by the loss of a cavity-filled molar an hour after brushing his teeth. His afro won't quit and neither with the pale sage green that makes up his eyeballs. He thinks Megan Fox is hot and wants to be an architect for about three years when he grows up, and then he's going to do a career change and become an artist like his mom. He's quick to take the fall in The Case of the Pipe Found on the Fridge, and when his interrogator asks, "If it's yours, then what do you put in it?" he curls his lips into a shape much older than he is and says, with a rasp in his voice, "Vodka."

He likes high fives, and he is about the most awesome 9-year-old I've ever met.

When I wasn't wishing I had as much swagger as Sam, I was running around Memphis eating at delicious places and drinking entirely too much. Tara, being an artist, is a natural at finding places with character, and whether it was coffee in the morning, salads at noon or fish tacos at night, she not only didn't lead us astray, she led us to delicious.

Blah, blah, blah and then I gained 6 pounds.

We went to the Trolley Tour art walk thing, which also happened to be the Zombie Walk. One Zombie had actual worms embedded in his wound and I tried to get him to eat Leigh but he was already full I guess.
Then we went to Silky Sullivan's on Beale Street and watched frat boys act like douchbags. After we'd downed about two gallons of some weak Kool-aid cocktail, we left Silky's and realized we should have been partying in the street. Frat boys trying to bang half naked chicks make for angry people watching; provocative dancing black people partying in the street make for great people watching.
Tara got us a hotel downtown so we wouldn't have to drive. We headed there and Leigh introduced me to her 19-step face washing routine. There were so many bottles I couldn't keep it straight the entire weekend, but Leigh is such a good wife she'd just line them up in order for me. I don't think it worked, but since the regime costs hundreds of dollars, I stuck with it and tried to force a glow.

The next night, I managed to convince them to go to a sports bar with me to watch Rampage fight Rashad in the UFC fight. I mean, Memphis is Rampage's hometown, so I knew it was going to be a blast of a crowd. I made his photo my wallpaper on my iPhone and started howling when appropriate. Which was not too often.
Leigh and Tara said they had a good time. And for that, I'd like to thank Patron Tequila. I had a great time, and for that, I'd not like to thank Rampage who got knocked out and made me really bummed.

I think our last 24 hours in Memphis were my favorite, so much so that I didn't want to leave. We went to a tequila bar and sampled about 10 types of tequila. Then we ate really good queso and fish tacos and there I go talking about food again. I am an addict.

While we were sitting on the patio, a lively discussion broke up between these guys and girls next to us, and it got so crazy we just couldn't ignore it anymore. So we butted in and Leigh secretly told the girls to never admit to anything and I asked one of the boys if he was religious because he was wearing a rosary and he informed me that that's just the fashion. Also the fashion is to make sure your hat matches your shoes. Just FYI.
We were having so much fun we relocated to another place that was staying open, and Tara's friend Evan helped us fine tune our gaydar.

The next morning we got up, went to eat yet another delicious lunch, browsed through some adorable shops, and then settled in, made dinner, drank wine and watched a movie.

About a million of my favorite things happened in the 4 days I was in Memphis, and I think I may have found another good wife.

No, I am not a lesbian... and even Evan agrees. I just think wives are awesome and good ones are hard to come by.

Summertime

A giant juicy watermelon and some beefy rich tomatoes from this morning's Farmers Market to welcome in the new season. Our in-house compost collector better get ready for the harvest.

Dulywed: Tough Love

Mack and I were watching a really riveting and cerebral program on VH-1 called Tough Love recently. In this award-worthy reality show, couples are given relationship challenges such as "resist the whorish girl" and "tame the drunk violence," and then receive Dr. Phil-ish critiques of their behavior.

At the end of the 13-episode experience, they must make a serious and life-altering decision.

Break up or get engaged.

Because if you're on the verge of breaking up, that's really when you should be getting engaged.

Watching Tough Love got me pondering my own relationship, so I looked over at Mack and asked him. Whaddya think? Break up or get engaged.

"Let's do both."

So we did. We broke up. Actually I dumped him.

Nothing much changed, but at least we got the breaking up out of the way. Then we got dressed and went to a wedding.

Later on, while we were sitting on a rock and soaking up the sunshine, Mack asked me to marry him, partly as a joke and partly with some insecure sincerity. There was no ring, no kneeing, but something about this time was way better than the first. It was just a perfect moment of relationship stillness, and if it hadn't been for that stupid show, I may have gone the rest of my life without a guy asking to be with me.

It made all those dishes I've done the past 6 years way more worth it.

Trans Bans

Do yourself a favor and never buy these things again. They are lethal, LETHAL, and they are poisoning your babies.

Also, never buy tubes of biscuits. They are way too easy to make to risk your life for the 6 minutes of prep.

I'm pretty sure you all know how I feel about pizza rolls too. (If you wanna buy pizza, the only one we've found sans trans is DiGiorno regular crust cheese pizza.)


Ore Ida Tater Tots used to have 3g of trans fats for 19 tater tots, but now they removed hydrogenated oils from their ingredients and they are "fine" to eat, even though they still aren't really food. Oreos did the same thing.

There's power in your pennies. Stop buying this shit and they'll stop putting it in your kids' food.

Special Deliveries

This one should be here in December.
And this one is due in January.
Hooray for fresh babies!!! Congrats to these amazing mommies!! Woo hoo for Aunt Ammies!!

Love Tours 2010 (part 1 of 3)

A few weeks ago, Mack and I went to LA to visit his family and to celebrate the love of our friends Gio and Whitney. Gio shares my birthday and was my work spouse when I worked in LA. I spent more time with him every day than I did with Mack, and most nights when I'd come home, the conversations between Mack and I would start with, "Oh, guess what Gio told me/did today..."

So what if I kinda worship Gio a little bit. He's badass. And I find his OCD reassuring.

Gio's now-wife, Whitney, is about a perfect a mate as any guy could ask for. She's gorgeous, intelligent, loving, patient, classy and quite likely the most thoughtful person I've ever met.

And the two of them together, with him stealing rubs on her butt and her melting into his eyes, it's just the way it should be... the definition of a love that doesn't make you sick.

Gio and Whitney went to college together, I think at Carlton or some similar liberal arts school that cultivates ridiculously talented people, and all their pals from that era of their life made the trek to the wedding to celebrate the love they watched blossom over four years. And they brought poems and songs and speeches to offer the couple that made the rehearsal dinner feel more like a grown up talent show.

Oooohhh, that rehearsal dinner, mmmmm. Mojitos and homemade gelato and seeing all those people I fell in love with in LA again. I hope Gio and Whitney had as much fun as I did... although I'm pretty sure their night didn't end with them swimming in their underwear and driving home with a towel on their head and wearing Mack's shirt.
The wedding day started with breakfast with Jordan, Jolia, David and Kathy, other work buddies and their fascinating wives, at this awesome place called The Farmer and the Cook. Everyone at our table was vegetarian/vegan except for David and Kathy, and the table next to us, three young people whose prettiness shouldn't be natural, were on a raw diet. The girl had brought her own magic concoction of nuts and health, so she let us have a sample. And then I had one more thing to add to the list of What Makes California So Awesome.

After breakfast, we decided to go for a short hike and ended up looking over the Ojai valley behind an orange grove. The valley runs east-west so it gets sun all day and in the evening, when the sun sets, everything gets bathed in a pink light.
I planned to see that pink light emerge during the wedding.

A shuttle took us up into the mountain to this mansion that had rose gardens that would make the queen in Alice in Wonderland jealous. We watched Gio and Whitney exchange vows that made me cry about 14 times, and the minister, their friend Tessa who was ordained on the internet, told a story of a note Gio had written to Whitney when they were college about the two of them being whales off Baja California making a life journey together.

See, Gio can predict the future.
After the wedding ended, Mack and I wandered around the grounds drinking Negra Modelos and ended up perched on a rock that overlooked a junkyard. The 200 other people carried on with wedding chit chat behind us, but we soaked up the sunshine and took word adventures into our dream life.
Eventually it was time to eat delicious food, play around with the photo booth they had, and take a look at the popsicle cart, which had such flavors as avocado. Then it was cake and dancing and swirling and drinking so many Negro Modelos that every time I walked up to the bartender, he'd automatically hand me two of them.

I wonder if his birthday is also May 16.
We had to get back to LA pretty early in the morning on Sunday so we could see Mack's mom, who had been working all week, so we packed up and headed out. Mack decided he wanted a cup of coffee for the road and zipped our Ford Focus into a corner coffee shop. And by zipped I mean rammed the curb and popped the tire on our rental.

We had a brief pit stop that allowed Mack to show off some of his man skills and let me relish our good fortune at being held up in such a magical place.
Then we were on our way back to real life, knowing that we're not as good at marriage as Gio and Whitney will be but we're getting pretty good at making it through the rough spots without killing each other. And that's probably the most important part of happily ever after.