I should be getting my photos tonight from the parade on Sunday, so I hope to be able to post some soon. In the meantime, I'll be gearing up to do it all over again this Saturday. Well, not exactly. We'll be watching the parade in Newport, but there will be much less alcohol consumed, seeing as how we'll be towing around the kids. Although, I may need to calm some nerves while I'm there. I had forgotten until I spoke with my sister Mary yesterday that she and her friend Meg will be playing matchmaker this weekend. I guess there's a guy they want me to meet - a 40-something-year-old fireman named Harp. Which is all fine and dandy, but I do so hate situations like this. It would have been fine if I didn't know that's what they were up to - I would have no idea what was going on and I could be the self-assured dork I usually am; but now I will be so self-conscious, and I will probably drink myself into a not-so-attractive stupor. And I have way too much time to think about this before I go - I keep wondering, "Why doesn't Mary remember what he looks like? Okay, okay, I get it, he's really nice - but what does he look like?" I chastise myself for being so shallow, but then I think, "If he's so nice, why is he a 40-something-year-old, never-been-married single-person?" Um, we won't mention the fact that I'm a soon-to-be-37-year-old never-been-married single woman.

Oh my God, what is wrong with me?