I am so flipping beat up. Had an awesome day at the Hooker Convention, those ladies wouldn't ever stop coming and waving their credit cards at us, which is awesome. BUT. I did not sit or use a bathroom or eat from 9 a.m. until 6 p.m., and my varicose veins were saying, "Sit DOWN, Bitch!" and my back was saying, "Yeah, what they said!" and my teeth were dry from all that smiling and talking. I did wear my new hooker shirt, and I took a picture, and then I left my camera in the exhibition hall, so no photo. Tomorrow.
When the show was over for the day and we could leave, we walked to a restaurant called "The Barn" and had the buffet. My plate was like a 15-year-old boy's - fried chicken, gravy, Mt. Mashed Potato, gravy, roast beef, gravy, BBQ beef, gravy, buttered peas and cherry bread pudding. And gravy. It was all I could do to not climb into that gravy tray and bathe in it. We're in Mennonite country, people - my dad's family all still live here, and I KNOW they can cook. Bring me your gravy, or bring me death.
It is 11 p.m., and I am going to get in my king-sized bed, maybe read a chapter of The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet's Nest, and then dream of gravy. And CH, of course. With gravy.