IAATB – Part II (And An Apology)

First the apology. I’m sorry. I know there are several of you whose lives revolve around this blog and I’ve gone over a month – a whole, long month – without blogging at all, the longest I’ve ever gone. And after I promised to endeavor to attempt to try to do better. I will make no more promises. Ever.

I’m just joshing you about people whose lives revolve around this blog. I only know of, like, two. Not really. Just one. Okay. That’s an exaggeration as well. I just thought it would make me sound more important. Guess I’ll just get on with it.

June was quite a month around here, but before I can elaborate I need to finish the It’s All About The Boobs trilogy. Of course, it’s been so long since the events happened that this will be the Readers’ Digest Condensed version because I’ve forgotten most of what I was going to tell you. So here we go:


PART TWO

On Sunday, May 9, Mother’s Day, I got up super early and met my friend and photography mentor, Gail, in the church parking lot and we drove into Philly for the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. Just the hanging out with Gail was awesome. We never seem to run out of things to talk about. I love that about her.

I was smart and brought my pink gloves with me, just in case it was cold. It was freezing. I was dumb and left the gloves in the car. I was also in need of coffee, but the line to the Wawa tent with the free coffee seemed like it went all the way back to the church parking lot we had just come from. The line for the free iced tea was non-existent, however, so I got my caffeine fix that way. On a frigid morning, but you know. We do what we need to do.

We mosied toward the Art Museum steps where they have the Survivor’s Parade and for some reason, I didn’t want to do the parade. I just wanted to stand there with Gail and watch it. It was the right thing for me to do because walking down those steps with all the other women in the pink survivor t-shirts is very surreal. But watching all those pink shirts move down the steps is very moving. Next year I’m sure I’ll take that walk, but I’m glad I got to watch it as a survivor.

The rest of the morning went pretty much how you’d expect it. We walked and walked and walked and then went to brunch in the city before coming home, where I took a nice, long nap. I know there were other things I wanted to mention, but I can’t remember. I’m sure they were vastly entertaining and worthy of some kind of an award, but this is what I get for waiting so long to report.

I had actually planned to write Part III in this post, but I just don’t have it in me. You know that road? The one to hell? Well I’m paving that sucker faster than I can say “Bob’s Yer Uncle,” and I can say that pretty fast. So at some point – I don’t know when – I will get to Part III. Really. But I’m not going to promise.

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