Sunday BLOODBATH!

Of course it wasn't!  But thus is my way of protesting the phrase "Sunday Funday."  (Warning:  liberal use of quotes ahead to mask the guilty.)  An "acquaintance" of mine who is "years" behind on "everything" (yet considers him or herself quite the "trendsetter") has "recently" started using this "phrase."  Which means it's time to stab it with a garden stake or push it down some stairs.  (Hey!  There's your bloodbath!)  I may not be leading the charge to banish this dumb phrase, but I will certainly pick up a sign and march behind you. Let's just stop saying it already, hm?


Now on to the events:

What an action-packed day!  Mrs. Burkel stopped by in the afternoon, fresh from her 45th reunion from nursing school.  She was fetching in her hat and shawl!  She finished off the bottle of Veuve from the night before with my mom.  I sat there on my hands and did not have any.  Imagine--me sitting out a bottle of champs!  Oh, my resolve!

Then Alison, Gary, Jess, and Jenna came over for Sunday dinner avec petit kitty Lily.  Lily is a darling Russian blue kitteh.  She was so well-behaved for a tiny one!  Oh, kittens.  They always make me happy!

Tribal-ly black and white dining table.

Jenna and Lily.

And I finished off the evening with that crabby old puppet-mouth Andy Rooney.  Somehow that crank brings me such joy.