How to spend a weekend in 93 degree weather with no AC

I should title this post, "Logging Out Of Your Blog For Dummies" or "How to Keep Your Friends Off Your Blog Without Losing Your Mind" or perhaps "Can I Still Be Friends With Hijackers?" My apologies for the last two entries. A lesson has been learned here. A valuable lesson that I will share with you at another time.

As for now, I will entertain you with a plethora of pictures from my happenin' and bloody HOT weekend in Seattle. I heart Seattle. I especially heart friends who live in Seattle and allow me and my apparent high maintenance self to impose on their very busy lives. There is no better accommodation in all of Seattle than the Holiday Inn of Scholten.

My buddy, Joel, teaches art at a Christian school down in Seattle, so he has his carefree, summer days free like yours truly here. What to do? What to do? Hmmmmm....let's pack up the baby and head to IKEA in Renton. And while we are there, we will take pictures throughout the showrooms and try to fool everyone that we know that each picture was taken in my actual house as opposed to a "Look what you can do with all this stuff" display.

I think I would toss more salads if my kitchen looked like this.

I think I would have more friends over if my living room looked like this.

Joel would spend more time domesticating himself in the kitchen if their back-splash resembled this one.

Let's sit and have a chat over coffee, shall we?

"Oh Emily, I LOVE what you've done to the place?!"

"Thanks. I work hard."

And because I work so hard and then came to this blasted place and realized I want everything in sight, I need to take a much needed break.

And then Willa decided she needed a break, too. BJ's Pizza, here we come. Willa was having a heck of a time deciding on what beer sounded best.


And then the NEXT day, we went back to the mall and did some more shopping.

It never ends.

I have a problem.

Perhaps I can get myself a third job as an Old Navy mannequin. I fit right in.


And then the real fun started. Joel decided that he wanted to branch out a bit this academic year and purchase himself a bow tie for the first day of school. You all know how I feel about the first day of school outfit. Monumental.

Step 1: Find a bow tie to match the dress shirt you just bought.

Step 2: Attempt to tie bow tie yourself.

Step 3: Break out in the nervous sweats because you realize that you are an absolute failure at tying a bow tie.

Step 4: Complain to your wife and friend that you are no good at anything and whine like a teenage girl when they both roll their eyes at you.

Step 5: Sit under a rack of men's jackets and pout.

Step 6: Realize that sitting under a rack of men's jackets doesn't help tie your bow tie, so you emerge and flag down a Nordstrom Rack employee.

Step 7: Trip over a rack of men's casual wear as you flag down the Nordstrom Rack employee.

Step 8: Silently curse and then yell at your wife and friend for pretending to not know the crazy bow tie guy in menswear.

Step 9: Manage to flag down an employee and ask for help.

Step 10: Repeat step 9 THREE times until you manage to find an employee who actually knows how to tie a bow tie.


Step 11: Harass the incredibly attractive gentleman who is innocently trying to watch what is going on so he can, too, can tie a bow tie by himself without having to endure steps 1-10.

Step 12: Harass your single friend for not foolishly and desperately throwing herself at the incredible attractive gentleman.

Step 13: Spend the next 8 hours talking about "Brody Bow Tie" and the beautiful relationship that "could have been" between him and your single friend.


This is how Willa felt about her father's bow tie escapade. I concur.



What.....a sexy look. I think it's clear who everyone's favorite teacher will be on the first day of school. Look. Out.

And then it got so hot, that we grabbed some card games, headed to the nearest Starbucks, and immersed ourselves in a rather heated game of Phase 10.


And THAT, my friends, is how you spend a weekend in 93 degree weather with no AC.

The End.