That's Alright Momma

It's 78 degrees here at the Chez Emerson. And it's 5:30 in the morning.

I have spent the majority of the summer in sundresses, skirts, and tanks. Wearing as few items as legally allowed. Funny how you get used to your summer uniform. Jeans are going to feel so weird! Do I have to wear jeans ever?

And I cannot remember the last time I wore shoes. Or even heels. I'm not counting wedges, but proper heels.

I'll have to put some heels on later and pretend.

Our deck is awash daily with bright sun. I haven't sat out there for a while. I had a few people over for dinner last night and it was a little sad to me to not be outside. The deck looked sad as well. Poor deck! I love you still. I will sit on you again I promise.

Instead we sat in the big room and after dinner (I baked pork chops and sweet potatoes - yes I said baked! I am sick of grilling! Ha!) we sat there having a second glass of wine and talking talking talking. I love after dinner table-talk. It's always the best. I love it when you can barely tear yourself away from the table because the conversation is so great. You know if you move to the sofa it will change. It just always does. It stays important leaning over the table and spiking the air with fist pumps and declarations while hoisting your glass of wine. Or that could just be me.

Rock em and sock em today my lovely hooches. But first, come have dinner with me. I'll pour some Fat Bastard and fist pump with you.