Back in the Dixieland

Because I love you all, and because I feel bad about the last post being lame, I'm taking a break from sipping mint juleps to write y'all something. Of course, by "sipping mint juleps" I mean "perspiring in a most indelicate way and watching in horror as my hair turns into something resembling a poodle coat on top of my head."

I'm in Wilmington, N.C. It lauds itself as "Home of the Azalea Festival," but should instead put "Welcome to Wilmington: Where You Look Like Crap" on the signs. Love the airport, though. It's teeny, but had free wireless and these really nice rocking chairs instead of those nasty chairs you usually find in baggage claims.

Also, my confession for the day: I turned into a total Sabbath breaker the moment Mr. and Mrs. Smith started playing on the airplane. Because really, how can you resist something like Brad Pitt looking all hot an' stuff? You can't. You don't. Savvymom, back me up here. I tried to make up for it by listening to some Mormon Tabernacle Choir music during my layover, which would have worked if it weren't for all the Brad flashbacks. (hee. hee hee.)

My dear friend, whom I'll call Sahkmet because she sometimes posts here under that name, drove down from Chapel Hill to see me, which was a huge treat for me. We had a lovely evening, wherein we went to Wrightsville Beach (5 minutes away from the hotel) and saw the sun set. Then we did some more Sabbath-breaking by eating dinner at a tapas-style restaurant called Boca Bay. We went back to the hotel after dinner and realized that it was 7:30pm and we were sitting in a hotel room watching the Food Network--and not even a good show, but something about how Cheetos are made. So we left the room quickly and went back down to the beach to walk along the shore like normal people.

And now I have to get ready to go exhibit at this conference thingie, which was the stated purpose of my trip. I really just came for the beach.

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