The Weekend Not-So-Summarily Summarized

There are days I can come up with nothing interesting and nothing witty to say.
This is one of them.
I go to school.  I work.  I check facebook.  I check (read: stalk) my usual favorite blogs.  Occasionally I do laundry.  Sometimes I even have fun on my weekends.  This is one of those.

I spent the weekend in Nashville, halving my time between Ryan and Marshal.  Ryan had a MtG tournament all day Saturday, so he prepared for that while Marshal and I went out Friday night (read: wee early hours of Saturday morning) to the Flying Saucer and the Big Bang Dueling Piano Bar.  It was GRAND.  We talked, drank (Terrapin Pumpkinfest, ftw!), talked some more, drank some more, sang loudly and embarrassingly, drank some more, scathingly ranked men and women on scales of 1 to 10 by their attire or lack thereof, drank a bit more, walked Broadway, and searched for food.  Note to self: apparently Nashvillians don't eat after a night on the town, for every food venue in a ten mile radius that was not a Mickey Dees was clo-sed.

The Flying Saucer's tap lineup:

The Big Bang (and obviously not my photo):

I was slightly hungover the next morning (read: hungover as hell).  Let me explain.  I am a small person.  I rarely drink anymore.  Ever, really.  I just don't have the time or the opportunity, or, really, the desire.  I suppose that is a sign of adulthood, and I suppose I can embrace that.  However, it does lead to me thinking I can drink more than I can.  Which leads to other bad, bad things.  I woke up Saturday to Ryan leaving the hotel and thought, "Dear God.....please shoot me."  I showered, washing my hair with what I prayed was shampoo and not lotion.  (Who can read the tiny script on hotel toiletry bottles??)  With that I proceeded to Target and purchased the darkest sunglasses I could find, a bottle of Tums, Excedrin, a Sprite, and a small travel pillow.  I was already running late.


I got to Marshal's by ten thirty.  Now, you might be asking yourself why in the world I would even be up and trying to be social in such a state.  Well, you see, Marshal is a god among men.  Physically attractive, remarkably intelligent, witty, honest, blah blah blah (and it's all true, too!), and the kicker: an amazing cook.  Seriously.  The man can cook anything.  So when he offers to cook me breakfast, I jump at the chance.  A man offering to cook for me?  Who will share his cooking secrets?  Who will discuss with me the pros and cons of French butter versus Irish butter?  I'M SO IN.  By ten forty-seven I was nursing myself into human-ness with a hot mocha and a prosciutto--emmentaler cheese--fig crepe that was out of this world, amazingly delicious.  See photo:

 Oh--did I mention that Marshal lives (lives!!) at Cedarwood, an 1831 antebellum farm estate that is Nashville's premier wedding site?  (www.cedarwoodweddings.com)  Yeah, it's pretty much gorgeous:

I left at noon to bring Ryan lunch.  I enjoy doing that.  It's my way of being supportive, because I really am supportive of his playing...I just find it hard to pay attention if I try to sit through a whole round of a game that's stratospheres above my head.  His friend Jonathan was there with his girlfriend Katie, so I hung out with her for a few hours until Marshal called again.  "Do you want to come to Oktoberfest down in Germantown?"  Er...HELL YES.  Oktoberfest, I'm sure, is self explanatory.

What it's all about:

My favorite shot of the day:

And it rocked: yummily and in my tummy.  Jon and Ryan ended up playing until about eleven, so we headed to Steak N Shake for nourishment.  Fun times followed.  We wound up getting home at 5 am Eastern time Sunday, so though we missed church, we did fall into bed thankful and full of prayer.

And that was my weekend.