Huggin’ and a-Kissin’, Dancin’ and a-Lovin’

Saturday night we ventured out to The Restaurant Formerly Known as Pearl’s Lakeside. It’s a beautiful little spot on the bank of Lake Hefner. The clouds obscured the sunset, but that was okay because we had this:

Roses

And these:

Candles

Which sort of set the mood of the evening. See, our good friends Chris and Sara got engaged!

Chris & Sara

They’ve been dating for awhile, and had shopped for a ring together, but Chris and our friend Erica, who will be Sara’s maid of honor, weaved a devious and complicated web of lies for at least two weeks, convincing Sara that Chris was going to be out of town this weekend and assembling the likes of Sara’s family and friends to surprise her inside the restaurant after Chris proposed on the gazebo outside. Adding to the awesome was the fact that Sara’s brother Burt was engaged to be married only scant days beforehand. It was a night filled with love, laughter and margaritas. Sara and her new ring decided to celebrate in style:

Sara & Chris

It also marked a momentous occasion, as it was the first time since July 17, 2007 that Erica and Alex went out to a restaurant – or anywhere at all, really – without the company of their darling baby boy, Cooper. Here they are, and you’d better believe that under this calm exterior, Erica is gripping her cell phone HARD and missing the crud out of her kid. Which, when a kid’s that sweet – it’s hard not to miss him:

Alex & Erica

Later, for the first time in years, Erica and I took to the stage at a neat little dive bar in south Oklahoma City and sang our signature karaoke song, “Love Shack.” Hilarity and dancing and shots of whiskey ensued.

Sam Has A Showdown With A Grocery Bag… And Loses

Last night Brian went to the store to get us something to make for dinner. It was incredibly sweet of him to do that, as I was feeling pretty tired. When he got home he unloaded all the groceries then put the paper bag on the floor. Then, this happened:

Sam vs. Bag

Because Sam? He’s not that bright, and so the bag pretty much won. Brian and I would’ve helped him out of this jam – seriously, we really would’ve – but we were just so damn busy laughing at the hilarity of it all. By the time I regained myself, having snapped a few photos in the process, Sam had extricated himself from the bag. I knelt down on the floor and called him over to me, but he really wasn’t interested in being my friend all of a sudden:

THBTHPBTH!

THBPHTHHHHH!

After a few minutes Sam forgave me, and he and I sat on the floor together, him getting some serious love. You’ve just got to love a dog that can’t free himself from a simple paper bag. I’ll tell you, though, when I called him over to me he made damn sure not to go ANYWHERE near that bag. Honest to God, it took him a full 60 seconds just to cross the kitchen to get to me. All this wore him out:

Yawn

So he thought he’d go see what was for dinner. Or, to be more precise, to see what was for our dinner. As if we’d give him any:

Beggy

Still, you’ve got to hand it to him: he never gives up hope.

Hopeful, but still not getting any

Happy Birthday, Dr. Angelou

Dr. Angelou

This Tuesday, April 4, Dr. Maya Angelou will celebrate her 80th birthday. I’ve already shared on this blog a story of when I took a class from her at Wake Forest, when she was threatened by an ill-placed bumblebee. Almost anyone who has had that class, or who has met the woman, will tell you of her fantastic way of turning a phrase or shrugging off praise with a simple “Hm!”

That class came along at just the right time in my life – in the spring of 2001 I certainly needed some inspiration and confidence, and three weeks learning to perform poetry with Dr. Angelou gave me just the shot in the arm I needed to get through. She has a way of being in the world that makes you want to stand up straighter, speak more clearly and politely, and to practice kindness, good manners, and social justice. People hold their heads higher around her.

So happy birthday, Dr. Angelou, from me, a former student. Thanks for remembering my name a full year after I’d completed your class when we met up again. Thanks for reading my awful, awful 21-year-old poetry. Thank you for opening your home, life, and mind to a bunch of overeager college students. Thanks for letting me be the one to perform your poem “Bump d’Bump” on stage in front of you – on your 73rd birthday, no less, and for the way you grinned up at us the whole time. Happy Birthday to you (a bit early, because like always, I’m still a bit overeager, and I seem to remember you saying that’s not an awful thing to be).

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