Midnight Train to Nowhere

Well, it looks as if it was not my time to die because I have indeed lived, despite The Plague's best chances to get me down.

I still have no taste for sweets and have had at least 10 people ask if I am pregnant.

"No."

I've been drinking tea (which I don't even care for unless it is iced and has a substantial amount of mango syrup in it) and anything salty hiding in our barren pantry. 

Hopefully by this weekend, I'll be back up to full Chocolate Strength and resume eating chocolate chips as a side dish to breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Until then, I'll continue alternating tortilla chips, potato chips, crackers (ironically, not Saltines) and toast.

Wanna come over for dinner?

Also.

That picture of Brad and I from a few posts back?

Um, not our real prom picture, people.

(Which maybe I will post someday, because it is a doozy.)

(That makes me sound old.)

The fake prom picture was from Halloween 3 or 4 years ago.

That was, however, the actual dress I wore to some high school dancing delightfulness.

(Unfortunately.)

But at the time, the rhinestones and shiny blue-ness of it all seemed like the right fashion direction.

Also.

Brad never pierced his ear or spiked his hair.

But I probably did wear a Swatch with a formal dress. 

And since I can't quite remember, do you think I wore black or white PANTYHOSE with that dress?

Either way: FASHION NIGHTMARE.

It was probably the last time pantyhose have seen my legs, so hopefully we had quite a night together.

Hmmmm.

The whole thought of a picture of the two of us kind of cracks me up.

Remember when we were dating/engaged and EVERY PLACE WE WENT was a fantastic photo opportunity to capture Us! Together! Smiling! And Acting Silly/Adorable/Insanely Immature!...together!

I loved nothing more than to get a roll of film developed (dating myself here...) and find 5 or 6 fantastic shots that had Rehearsal Dinner Video Potential written all over them.

And when we were newly married?

We swam in a sea of shiny, new, silver picture frames blanketing every available surface in our entire apartment, all containing pictures of...us.

And if you will join me while I screech in horror, I'm sure that in one of them we were both wearing denim shirts.

(Close eyes and scream)

And now?

When people look at Brad and I at, oh say, a wedding, and request that we "get together for a picture," I roll my eyes, lean my head in, and kind of wonder why we need another shot of...us.

I'm sure it looks like some version of this.

Now seems like a good time to mention that this post was actually going to be about my New Year's Resolution.

But I will save that for tomorrow.

Because I've talked about nothing for way too long and I have to go cough for a few hours before bed.

Good night.