June, 2010

As a hospitality instructor and true Southern girl, I’m familiar with lots and lots of different types of etiquette…I know to hold my wine class by the stem, I refuse to discuss politics in front of certain family members, and I am all too familiar with the fastest ways to get the house “ready for company” when it’s least expected.

This morning, my hubby took off before the sun had risen to get to work. Call it hormones if you want, but seeing him working so hard and doing whatever it takes to keep us OK just makes me warm and fuzzy inside.

My hubs is a masonry contractor…that’s right – go ahead and call us if you need an amazing fireplace, patio, or outdoor kitchen.

And the housing industry, if you haven’t heard, has crashed. It’s like a tornado whizzed right on through the Land of Builders, picked us all up, and now we’re all roaming around Oz trying to find the Yellow Brick Road.

Throwing a freaking shower ain’t easy. Tonight, I’m doing one of the bridal variety at mi casa for a friend, who I am so happy is getting hitched to a great guy. Not to mention I really love throwing parties.

But I didn’t count on how much hosting a darn shower can exhaust an 8-month prego woman. I’m exhausted.

Which is precisely what was running through my head yesterday evening, after baking a zillion cupcakes, going to five hundred stores to find the perfect decorations, getting 8 last-minute regrets, and still trying to develop a syllabus and write a proposal.