Swing Dancing and Breaking Down

My computer decided to eat my mouse, so I haven't been near it. I'm on Rob's.

So, what's up?

Sarah nee Hendrie Eckman got married; another one bites the dust. The wedding was perfect and she was beautiful (thanks in part to my wonderful makeup artistry). Aisle time was 11 am, so I met her at the hair salon at six to do her face. SIX! Her bridesmaids were all slumped over and half asleep getting their hair done. Amatures! Try opening Starbucks 45 minutes from your house at 5:30 in the morning!

The reception started with professional swing dancers attempting to teach everyone some moves. Conclusion: I suck at swing dancing, and the bruise on my foot shows that Rob does, too. However, I rocked the Electric Slide, and gave the bride's mother lessons on how to boogie (oogie oogie.)

My car is worse than ever. The transmission is so bad now that I actually have to pump the gas on the highway to get it to go. I feel like Fred Flintstone. Then today, my tire was a little low so someone suggested that I get some fix flat (or something) to blow into it. It exploded all over my hands at first, and then pumped up my tire. By the time I was half way home, it was flat, and this time, it was totally flat. I called triple A who gave me a wait time of about two hours. I was right on a main road, so I was nervous about waiting there all that time right in heavy traffic. The police came and got a local company to come tow me in a matter of minutes. I was greatful to the cop for speeding things along, and prayed he wouldn't open my glove compartment.