Three Fridays ago I played Road Warrior for the weekend, trekking first to the beloved, (not entirely) barren, and boiling hot trifecta of river-laden communities most popularly known as The Tri-Cities. Mostly because, well, there are indeed three of them. And also: they sort of run in and out and through one another, so much so that over the years I have almost unconsciously learned to map each particular city by particularly memorable landmarks, which I use as a crude sort of association game, but more importantly, as a means of not going astray while traipsing through to reach I-82. It goes a little something like: “Kennewick: The Quickest Route, With Starbucks and Bruchi’s To Boot”; “Richland: Basketball Tournaments And I’ll Get Lost”; “Pasco: Track Meets and Rounding Streets.”

What? Like you don’t get cumbersomely bored during longish drives and make up (semi, horribly) rhyming word-to-place associations? Pinocchios, the lot of you.

But, back to my original point of road warrior-ing for the weekend. The occasion: Miss Kristina Lynn’s* Bachelorette Soiree. I’ve known Kris since we were but wee lasses, high school freshman enthusiastically (over) preparing for group reports and compulsively studying for AP tests. That trend continued throughout our high school years, the both of us so involved in volleyball, basketball and track, respectively and collectively, that we never even had five minutes to marvel at how any of our peers could get themselves in trouble with parents, busted for drugs and drinking. I didn’t even see “Dazed and Confused” until my junior year of college.

Throughout our high school and most of both of our collegiate experiences, we lived and breathed athletics. Avid over-achievers, we spent all of our days and our evenings together, too. Shared most every class, manned almost every starting five from freshman year to junior year, passed the baton to one another during every sprint relay on the track. College sent us packing, both to Oregon, her to study physical therapy at Lewis & Clark and myself to hit the books (again), playing English Nerd at Willamette. Our schools were somewhat mock rivals and so we saw each other during football games and volleyball matches. We stayed in touch, but we saw each other less and less, the both of us preoccupied with staying afloat in collegiate environments designed to be distracting.

There were many years I missed my friend. I’m thrilled that now I don’t have to; I’m so very happy to have our proverbial threads in the same place again. So happy to have had the opportunity to spend a weekend looking for the perfect lingerie, the perfect champagne drink, the perfect Saturday Market find, the perfect start to a blissful life with a man who loves her, as I do, for the beautiful, nerdy, anal-retentive organized jock that she is.

Happy! Almost Wedding Kristina Lynn. Here’s to happiness. And copious amounts of place settings, too.

The bachelorette photo set can be found here.

*There is something about using first and middle names that (are fun! not that I’m biased, and also!) make you remember what it felt like when your mom was calling you from the other room, because your sister was crying and there was a large amount of ugly porcelain once resembling her favorite lamp now lying shattered on the floor. And, really, is there any greater recollection?

As a bonus! story from the weekend: I broke my toe. Because I FELL DOWN AN ENTIRE FLIGHT OF STAIRS. SOBER. And if you don’t believe that last part, the sober part, I understand, but I promise you it was eight in the morning, and I was walking downstairs, barefoot, with my eyes half-shut, because I’m way intelligent, and you can even ask anyone, because they will totally (make fun of me, yes, and then) vouch for me. Vouch for me being sober, and yet, still stupidly uncoordinated. Because I’m awesome.

And behold! The photographic evidence taken to (show Chris what he’s getting himself into, and) remind myself to pay! attention while navigating unfamiliar stairs when I haven’t yet consumed my prerequisite amounts of morning coffee:

The Stairs (cue suspenseful, something is about to happen! music):

The Toe. Broken Is The New Black. And Blue. And Purple, Too.