Em and I get to The Grill--formerly The Mill, down in Five Points--and no one is there. That's okay, maybe we're a little early. Em makes a couple of calls. Guess where McRachel is? Cincinnati, a friend tells us. She... she will not be coming to brunch. Apparently we are the last to hear about this, which is why no one else came. But it's eleven and I didn't have breakfast at all and Em just had
So we dig into our biscuits and gravy and ham and eggs (this is how we brunch in the South) and discuss the party on Friday and Em's wedding dress and divers other subjects when hey! It's McRachel on the phone!
"I HAVE BEEN LIVING IN AIRPORTS FOR THREE DAYS," she says. "I AM WAITING ON A FLIGHT TO BIRMINGHAM AND WHEN I GET THERE I WILL GET STRAIGHT IN A CAR AND DRIVE THREE HOURS HOME."
"I'm going to mail your Christmas present to New York," I say, when Em hands the phone over to me. "It'll probably be there by the time you get back...?"
"Yeah... hey, whatever doesn't kill you, right? It's an adventure."
"I FEEL LIKE AN ADVENTURER."
"See? Having adventures, looking for artifacts--your present kind of looks like an artifact, it'll be there when you get back..." And I make a mental note to tuck something extra in the package for her. I don't know what, but she sounds like she needs it.
("DID I TELL YOU THAT I SAW TWILIGHT?")
We wish her a safe trip and much ham. And then we fiddle around with our cheese grits until noon, at which point the restaurant can serve alcohol, so we can down a couple of mimosas in her honor.
This afternoon: ~* MOAR SHOPPING *~. Man, I am glad I had that mimosa.