Stew blue too

Got back from Normal a short while ago. Kelley is playing Blue Suede Shoes on the acoustic guitar, and the apartment smells like the beef stew she is cooking for dinner. Judith Parker Phillips-Quinn is turning her nose up at her dog food, lathered with stew sauce, because we didn't share any beef.

I decided not to tell my mom or grandparents about the wedding during my day trip home. I'm going back again on Saturday with Kelley and Judy. I figured we should tell them when we are together. A marriage announcement delivered by only one of the parties with the runaway-bride news blaring on the TV just doesn't seem convincing. Ill-fated, even.

It was surprisingly hard to keep quiet, though. Sitting around my grandma's table, eating strawberry cake and talking about my little brother's upcoming nuptials, I felt compelled to share. My grandparents may even warm to the idea. I made a joke about Kirk Hinrich (Bulls pointguard) being hot in that funny sort of way, and my grandma cut me off. He's a boy, she said, like I should know better. So, hey, maybe she's pulling for my team.

My mom and I also went dress shopping, which is how I got into this whole thing in the first place: buying dresses to incite an occasion. She has to find something to wear for The Brother's wedding that is approved by his bride. No black. No cocktail-feel. Not the case for our big day. If it weren't going to be on the beach, I would demand sexy black attire.