Breaching futile workplace boundaries. Devin invited us to come out to see his band on Saturday night. Soliciting fandom from your customers, now are you, Sir Barista? Glad you did. VZD's. 11pm.
There was a fantastical 1.5-seconds-to-go shot by KD for the Thunder win. There was much thunder and rain outside. There was a dancing astronaut. There was a one-and-a-half pint jug of Red Stripe (a Jamaican lager, for those not in the know). There was more dancing. There was the precautionary removal of 4" suede wedges. There was a mid-aged woman whose dancing prime must have been in the seventies, but somehow she'd managed to bring it with her all the way to 2012. There was music that made you laugh and head bang at the same time. There was Dr. Pants.
I'd gone shopping that day and had come back with:
1. a little black dress that twirls like you wouldn't believe
2. a navy & white striped sailor tank
3. a sturdy/soft pink oxford shirt from J. Crew that I'm so scared to wash for fear it'll lose its newness, but yet confident it will age so much more than gracefully.
The store clerk complimented my sister and I on our manners and sweet attitudes. Haven't gotten that one since I was little and people were saying it to my parents, or since Mister Gee said it at a Christmas Conference some odd years ago.