So, many of you will not understand the title of this post, but my friend Robin will, and that's what counts. Robin and I worked together in Roanoke, which in some ways seems like forever ago, and in other ways, seems like yesterday. She's one of those people I was instantly friends with. Something inside of me just gets the inside of her. We are kindrid spirits, I guess. Robin is smart, funny, creative, and sometimes she scares me when she's laughing really hard because I think she actually stops breathing. Seriously, there is no noise. Nothing coming in or going out - It's even scarier to hear on the phone. We happened to both be home in VA the same weekend - so you know we had to celebrate. We had dinner in Smithfield, which is a quaint little town -a la - Stars Hollow. We had a blast. Thanks Robin for the pictures!
Highlight of the night. I forget what the official name of this dessert was, but I'm pretty sure it fell from heaven. It tasted like my grandmother... made a little debbie cake. It was two pieces of pound cake, with vanilla ice cream in the middle and this hot fudge on top that was TO. DIE. FOR. You know, the kind of thing that you just keep stuffing in your mouth, even though there is no more room in your stomach? This is that thing.
It was no small feat. But, we did it together. We reached the summit. Conqured the top of the cake. Devoured the divine.
Breaking News: We have a live update here from the scene - another wall has just given way and there is goodness spreading all over the place. Forks and spoons are being evacuated. The governor has just declared a state of emergency, we should start seeing National Guard vehicles any minute now, John. That's the latest live at the scene, back to you.
It's a media circus, I tell you.
By the way, I checked with Emily Post and it turns out it is completely socially acceptable to leave a restaurant with your pants unbuttoned. At least, as long as someone in the room has been to Lobster Camp.