Dec 062011
 

I’m trying to post as much as I can while everything is still fresh in my mind, but so much awesome (and sweat-shoppish) stuff happened today that I’m ready to fall asleep as I type this. So this will be the condensed version for now.

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We started the day by eating the best waffle ever at Waffalonia in Squirrel Hill. Seriously, Eggos can get fucked.

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I’m a total waffle snob now. I don’t care how great your waffle iron is.
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After that, we had to try to get from Squirrel Hill to Troy Hill to take a tour of the relics at Saint Anthony’s. I tried to call Henry to see what directions on their website we should follow, but he wouldn’t answer. This was after Andrea begged me not to call him. “He’s going to be so pissed,” she said. Earlier, Henry had said, “You and Andrea both have iPhones, so don’t even call me for directions.”

Yeah right.

So I texted him a succinct yet effective “911.”

He immediately called me back.

“Andrea made me call you. Are we west or east from Troy Hill,” I asked while Andrea was in the background mouthing off emphatically about how anti-calling him she was.

Apparently Henry had gotten out of line at the post office to call me back and it was all crowded because it was lunchtime. I was totally his favorite person after that, as you can imagine. He wasn’t mentally driving an icepick through my neck at all.

He told me what direction the city was and then hung up. We drove on the highway in the rain while listening to my Roller Skating Birthday Mix that I so fortuitously found in the glove compartment that morning. (When I picked Andrea up at her hotel, she had perfect Billy Ocean timing.)

“Shit, is this T’Pau?” Andrea asked, and I’m pretty sure there was a slight undertone of disgust and disappointment.

But we made it without getting lost! Andrea would occasionally spout off Supportive Friend catch phrases like:

“You’re doing such a good job!”
and
“Look at you, not picking up any hitch hikers!”

Troy Hill is apparently easy to get to. Who knew.

Saint Anthony’s was so amazing that it needs its own entry. It was a lot to take in, totally life-changing, and only served to exacerbate my newfound Saint Rita worship.

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We also CRAFTED tonight. Can you imagine? Me? Crafting? Well, it happened. I’ll be posting my friend Brandy’s tutorial for a DIY voodoo Santa doll, and then later I’ll tell you about my trials & tribulations with following instructions and using a glue gun. Thank god Andrea was here.

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