This weekend was another baby shower. Everybody's having babies. I'm not really a baby person, but I do like Jesse and Amy's baby, Quinn, so maybe that's changing? I don't know. But I think it will be pretty neat to be an aunt. And I'm excited for my brother.
So we went to the Turner Compound Friday night. Ben and Megan were flying into Oakland, and would show up later, and we would stay up all Friday night drinking wine and eating chocolate.
Except that's not what happened. Instead, we got to the Turner Compound, looked at some old family photos, then I got sick and had food poisoning and spent Friday night puking every 30-40 minutes. Good times. I felt like shit the rest of the weekend too. Saturday night I wasn't puking but my stomach had a war of the worlds going on inside it, and it was so noisy and bubbly and gurgly, it sounded like we were camping next to a babbling brook.
Sadly, I did not enjoy much festivity with the family this weekend, but I did get to drink mai tais during a few hours of OK-feeling on Saturday evening.
I feel mostly better now. But I feel cheated out of a weekend.