This was a party weekend. Friday night we had a party at our house. I haven't done the final count yet but I wouldn't be surprised if I found out there were 100 people here. It was crazy, but crazy fun too!
|I freakin' love these wreaths, courtesy of my friend Bart and|
Flourish bespoke floral and event styling
|The infamous meat tree! (Thanks to Cafe del Mondo.)|
|Bart also surprised me with this gorgeous centerpiece.|
|Outside view of the house|
|Our fun new wreath|
|I wore this gorgeous new dress but then didn't get|
any pictures of myself. I know, I suck.
The next day:
|I think we're set on wine for a little while.|
The cats (and I) needed naps after all the excitement.
It's such a fun party and it's really cool when we bring together people from different areas of our life. And sometimes we discover connections between people whom we didn't know knew each other! (That's an awkward sentence but I just can't be bothered with fixing it.) This year I actually mailed out real invitations because not everyone is on Facebook and Evite has let me down in the past, but it seems that short of hand delivering invitations to everyone, there's no foolproof way to make sure everyone gets an invitation. And inevitably I end up forgetting someone. So, sorry if that happened to you. Love ya, mean it.
Saturday night we had three parties to hit and we decided we had to do all or nothing. We made it to all three of them and it was a late night but we had such a good time hanging out with three completely different groups of people.
Sunday we did our church thing, then it was time to face the music and clean up the house. Thankfully the cleaning lady is coming today to really take care of business but we still had work to do. And then there was napping. And football. And the aforementioned Sound of Music. And this:
PS #1 - Have you heard that Marla has been nominated as a Hilarious Health Activist? Click here to vote for her. Please and thank you!
PS #2 - I've stayed away from this Duck Dynasty BS. You all should know where I stand, but I think we're all missing the real controversy which is: what the hell is Phil Robertson doing in GQ in the first place?