Stayin' Alive (but barely)

I have so much to tell you. Where do I begin?

I would like to, first and foremost, complain about whatever hurricane decided to work its way up the eastern seaboard this weekend. Um, hello? Did it not get the memo that I was coming to town and had requested sunshine and blue skies for the photographing?

Apparently it did not.

Which is precisely why the rain and I can no longer remain friends. We had a tepid love affair to begin with, but I have cited irreconcilable differences and vow never to be in the general vicinity of the rain again. Stupid, stupid rain.

I also would like to tell (and show you) all the beautiful people I got to take pictures of this weekend. But I cannot do that just yet. Hours and hours of proofing and edit work will have to happen first. Trust me on this one, though, it's going to be good. Philly is home, not only to the delicious cheese steak sandwich, but to some very beautiful people, as well. And I was lucky enough to be wielding a camera around some of them.

One thing I probably won't be telling you about is a little incident that occurred on the Turnpike when a certain Bee Gees song came on the radio, and oh yes, I did.

I got jiggy with it.

Very, very jiggy.

And to the little old couple driving innocently on a Sunday morning, mucho apologies, for the spectacle you had to witness. But, honestly, can anyone sit still when Stayin' Alive comes on in the car? Ah ah ah ah, stayin' alive, stayin' alive. Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother...

There I go again. Sorry.

Lastly, I will take this opportunity to curse the universe once again for timing my return home with Chase coming down with the swine flu. I don't know what it is, but EVERY. SINGLE. TIME I decide to get on a plane and go somewhere by myself, I come home to a sick child. Why? WHY? Further proof of the universe hating me can be found here, here, and here.

Well, as they say, there's no place like home.

[And there's also no place in this home to fit the mounds of laundry waiting for me either. Stupid, stupid laundry.]