My Dinner with Amy
by Scott Hardie on July 12, 2009
Nice to meet you, old friend.
Six Replies to My Dinner with Amy
Aaron Shurtleff | July 12, 2009
Ha ha! Awesome! She really does exist!
Was this recently? How does someone come to town and not let me know? :P
Scott Hardie | July 12, 2009
This was Friday night. Amy drove to Venice for something, so she stopped in Sarasota for dinner with Kelly and me. I probably wasn't very lively company after a difficult day at work, but we had a good time, and good food. The photos were an impromptu thing at the very end.
Amy Austin | July 12, 2009
I thought about trying to drop in on you, too, Aaron -- but I remembered what you said about my dropping in on Steve! ;-)
Aaron Shurtleff | July 12, 2009
Fair enough. I was working until 10:30 anyways, so I wouldn't have been around. Just being difficult! :D
Aaron Shurtleff | July 12, 2009
[hidden by author request]
Logical Operator
The creator of Funeratic, Scott Hardie, blogs about running this site, losing weight, and other passions including his wife Kelly, his friends, movies, gaming, and Florida. Read more »
Comedian
The bad news: I have a miserable cold (thanks Charlotte) and I slept for an hour last night. The good news: I had to speak in front of a hundred people today. Why is that good? Go »Day 178
People have been asking me how the diet is going. I'm still at it, although I cheat much more often than I'd like, so the daily caloric average is now 1500-1800. However, I've been stuck on one seriously cruel plateau. Go »R.I.P. Nicole
You know those memes about how 2020 just keeps getting worse by the month? I didn't like them before because it's been such a very awful and depressing year that I'm not in the mood to joke about it. And now I really don't like them, because for me, June has indeed managed to be even worse: My friend Nicole died suddenly of a stroke on Friday. Go »I Wonder
Is there any way I can program my car's CD player to make an "om nom nom" sound when I slide in a disc? Go »R.I.P. Mom
You were so still in your bed when I could finally sit down beside you, a few hours after the facility notified me that you had died. I hadn't seen you be that peaceful in years, your eyes not scanning the room for clues, your hands not turning over each object in front of you for endlessly repeated examination. I whispered to you the most urgent and most precious things I had to say, the secrets and atonements and wishes foremost on my mind. Go »
Lori Lancaster | July 12, 2009
[hidden by author request]