We are into wedding/concert/vacation season where our schedules are pretty much booked every weekend. A few weekends ago was one of our craziest, yet:
10-3: We shot a wedding! Our neighbors got married and it was a smaller, but super busy and festive occasion.
5-7: We drove to Wilmington. It was a very last minute decision. I essentially spent the unaccounted time showering, making hotel arrangements and panic-packing. And I forgot my toothbrush.
7-11:30: Mike took pictures of Generation Axe while I sat happily in the nosebleed section. The show was blow-your-face-off amazing. Zakk Wylde and Steve Vai were my favorites, with Nuno Bettencourt close behind.
11:45-12:00: I frantically search for a Cookout while Mike continues to ask me what I am saying, since he’s deaf now.
12:30 – 1: We arrive at Moran Motel at Kure Beach (our favorite in the area) and proceed to pass out. Thankfully, the hotel owners are amazing and just left the door open for us with the keys on the dresser.
6:15 – 6:45: We wake up to catch the sunrise. There was a small question of whether or not to sleep in, but we thought, “Hey, we’re going to live it up this weekend.” Why not, right? Sunrises, in my opinion, are always worth it. It’s just so hard to wake up for them. Maybe that’s why they’re special?
6:45-7:30: I shower because I was super gross. It was ridiculously, sweat drippingly hot in the venue the night before and I had passed out too quickly for a shower.
8:00-9:30ish: Breakfast with Kelley! She’s a LOSTie friend of ours and becoming just as obsessed with Outlander as I am (yesssss). We went to IHOP, harassed nearby tables with profanity, and enjoyed ourselves immensely. Wish she lived closer!
10:00-12:30: The drive home. Mike and I had to keep switching to stay awake.
12:30-1:30: Get ready for…
2:00-3:15: Another wedding! This one wasn’t a paid gig. It was also advertised as casual — the specific example given was that the groom would be wearing a polo and flip flips… in a bar. Seriously, the wedding was in a bar. How fancy could it be, right? So I thought it was safe to wear my concert tee from the night before, jean shorts, and gross Chuck Taylor’s (that whole ensemble gave me a look like I had recently mown the grass, but I was tired from travel and didn’t care). As it turned out, all the women there were wearing nice summer dresses and the guys all looked like it was welcome week at their local frat. Needless to say, I dipped my face into my alcohol, prayed to the Zakk Wylde (the parton saint of chicks wearing shirts with his face on them to weddings), and didn’t look up until the ceremony was over.
3:15-4:00: I was plastered (I blame lack of sleep and not practicing drinking enough) so Mike drove me to our local Mexican restaurant to sober up.
4:30p.m.-8:00a.m. (15 hours): I passed out.