The bar at The National Hotel. That's me in the denim shirt.

Originally, I thought this trip to Nevada City would consist mainly of me giving my sweetheart the royal tour – showing him details, hidden mysteries and beauty that only a local knows, but the new and improved Film Festival proved to monopolize our schedule. Conveniently, the entire staff were the same people I would have tried to hang out with anyhow, so that was okay, but the only hidden mystery I got to expose Corey to was the dazzling amount of booze that an average NC townie can down in a day.

It’s historical.

He did get to meet my family.

I can’t even begin to tell y’all about my family. Sufficed to say, it is eccentric. Like, I’m one of the normal ones, and I bark at UPS trucks and punch people for offering me a “slice of melon”. But, odd as they are, they’re also loving. Corey did just fine.

Well, well – Look who’s come sauntering in like everything’s normal. If it isn’t little ol’ me. I think I can just waltz back in here after having been missing for days and expect you to just read my blog as though nothing’s happened? Is that it?

Well, I have another thing coming. You’re not some screensaver I can leave on, perpetually cycling a kaleidoscope of flying toasters while I go out and have a life! This is unacceptable! I mean, am I a blogger or not?

STOP!

You want the truth? Is that it? YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH.

Actually, you can, but I love that line. YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH. It’s so over-the-top. I’m totally going to say it to my future kids whenever possible.