i just got back from philly this morning from dave's grandfather's funeral. it was very sad, his grandmother is crushed, which is the worst. they elpoed when she was 18 and he 30. he died at 94, and i can only hope that in 64 years I love dave like she loved him. i also met his entire family at once (extended family: aunts uncles, etc.) and being the complete fucking spaz that i somehow manage to be...yesterday we get home from the funeral, everybody is sad. sitting around the house and eating, etc. i go up to change because dave and i are leaving soon. i change. carry my stuff down stairs. im holding my boots, sweater, and coke, what happens? BAM..bam bam...bam bam bam ... bam, as i fucking FALL DOWN A COMPLETE FLIGHT OF STAIRS. it was horrid. i swear i have never been more mortified. im totally fine, but can you just imagine, the ENTRIE house of like twenty people come rushing over. i am so embarassed.

it might have been worse though when the little girl sitting in front of me on my six hour plane ride this morning PUKED INTO MY PURSE. in my purse.
puke. the lovely mother chose not to inform me of this until after it had hardened into a stiff gold-fish cracker/bile paste.

what a weekend.