Sunday morning...

...Not just a velvet underground song anymore.

I'm sitting in a diner on market street, in a booth facing a mannequin of some kind of old timey gambling saloon figure - not a cowboy, but wearing a straw cowboy hat, red vest and black pinstripe suit - think bret maverick with an old and grizzled face. He's standing over by the gumball machines looking pensive about it all. Just finished off some biscuits and gravy (not like what we get in utah, but pretty damn good) and they're taking care of my hangover for me.

Ok, it's not THAT bad of a hangover, but i did tie one on last night. This is the big t-day weekend, and so i had to at least try to make up for missing that. Plus, one of my r-ball partners turned her ankle this week on the court. And by 'turned' i mean 'separated a ligament from and fractured.' Yeah. Not so good. So i felt especially responsible to party with her and her peeps. Made an african peanut soup in honor of t-day virginia-style, the sort of safari-themed room they've got me in, and of course thinking of sunny in togo. Worked on lines over martinis with the truly beautiful and talented katie. Then went and put a big dent in a bottle of jameson with cory, ben and vanessa (well, ok, ben and i did most of the damage to the bottle - cory was on pain meds for her ankle)

So now it's not morning anymore, strictly speaking, and rehearsal awaits...