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Written Friday:
I'm in our hometown for my mom's wedding tomorrow. The city is so different than I remember. More poor, more burnt. Seriously: the grass is all sorts of brown. I don't know if Savannah just is better for growing or if our oaks and Spanish moss enable vibrant foliage.

I went by the clinic at which I spent three years. In the two years that I've been gone, 95% of the staff changed. Out of the fifteen people I saw, I only knew three of them. (My percentage is probably exaggerated.)

I also went by Archie's old barn. When we left, there were probably three open stalls and no available pastures. Today, there were a total of ten horses.  It's a thirty-horse barn.

Written Today:
So.. My mom got married on Saturday.  I'll say, it was a weird experience being the Matron of Honor for my mother.  And, unfortunately, I wiped out all the photos on the iPhone. ...But not in Hipstamatic!  I will share!

Let me start with Friday.
After having lunch with D's old guitar instructor at the restaurant of my choosing (a little Italian place) with a phenomenal cheese ravioli Alfredo baked with mozzarella, we ran by the barn.  I didn't cry, but I did fall a little bit in love with the bay filly, Gabbi (Gabanna.. her sister is Dolce).

We then met my father at our favorite Mexican place for a late Padre Day.  I never know what to buy the man.  We had thought that he would want to eat, but when we all ordered beers, he asked if we just wanted to drink.  And drink we did.

I can't remember exactly what we did after that.  OH! SHIT YEAH!  WE WENT TO A TACK STORE!

I didn't buy anything fancy.  Horse treats, a bathing sponge, new shampoo and some more fly spray.  Still:  stupidly excited for all that.  And I found a company that makes a pretty nice non-leather halter (this is what happens when you're a vegetarian who loves horses:  in lieu of getting your shits and giggles from plush, shiny dead skin, you love fabric.  I love fabric.).

After that, we went directly to my mother's new house.  This was a bit of a shocker:  after thirty-eight years in the same house (okay, part of that was spent in Texas and Germany), my mom is selling her house.  I'm saddened by it, because I grew up there and there were several moments in my adult life that required my return;  likewise, I'm also equally fucking stoked because the new house is exceptional.  My mom went from four tiny bedrooms and two baths to five spacious bedrooms, three and a half baths, and a freaking loft.  It's gorgeous.  She deserves it.

It was a catered family-only dinner.  It was awkward.  I'd only met her future husband twice prior and now I was meeting his daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren.  They all seemed okay and were receptive of my mother and my crazy-ass family.  The drama was kept to a minimum, thankfully.

And then the hubs and I went downtown and drank.

Saturday morning brought us to some last-minute shoe shopping.  See, I purchased hooker heels because they were the only thing I could find in a reasonable color.  I can't wear hooker heels to my mom's wedding! We found some cheapish white sandals.  And, then!  More eating!

This time we went to another Mexican restaurant where D had heard about a phenomenal fajitas.  It came in a giant sizzling stone bowl.  He was ecstatic. As a result of the minimal family drama the night before, I told my mom that I would come to her wedding floating.  So, I did that giant pharmacological no-no and took my Xanax with my strawberry margarita.  It was just enough.

Post-wedding, we hauled ass home and spent the following day recovering.  I did hop on Archie Sunday morning and he was pretty good.  Chiro rescheduled from yesterday to next week.

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