"I'll Just Buy A Bunch of Nipples!"

That's a phrase that's normal for me now. In fact, my Mom yelled it in the middle of a public space. Along with, "Lindsay, I'm over in the nipples!" 

Maybe I should back up and start at the beginning.

I was planning on writing about the Olympics. I told you in my last post that I LOVE the Olympics. I decided to write about them after the official Closing Ceremonies, partly because I wanted to recap the full two weeks in all their glory and partly because I wouldn't have time to write about it before I danced my ass off at Caroline and Will's wedding. 

The Wedding. (Photo courtesy of Catty Amos. Photographer unknown, but definitely not whoever Catty and Sarah think the photographer may be.)

So, I was all ready for the Olympics post. I was going to talk about how awesome Missy Franklin is, how horrible the poolside interview questions were, how I think I could've been the greatest rhythmic gymnast of all time, and, of course, the Spice Girls reunion.

That was the plan for Monday. I was going to catch up on sleep Sunday night, and write a rivoting gold-medal-worthy post after work on Monday evening. 

Then, this happened:

That's right, y'all. Good thing we already had the Jell-O shot baby shower, because Charles Sawyer Sullivan Thomson decided he was ready to make his entrance into the world. Actually, it wasn't his decision, his placenta decided to fight back against my sister (or something like that. Pretty sure that's the first and hopefully only time I'll use the term placenta on my blog). 

My Imaginary Friends

I've now been doing my daily commute long enough that I'm starting to see some of the same familiar faces each day. Most of them friendly. Some of them not. And some of them....well....they are the unsolved mysteries of my daily travels. It's those fine folks I'd like to tell you about today.


Note: This is not a profound post. I'm watching the Olympics while I write this. I'm obsessed with the Olympics. OBSESSED. I think writing this post will help me from screaming at the television and pretending like I know things about beach volleyball or gymnastics or rowing. Don't even get me started on swimming. An Olympics post will probably be happening soon. Until then...

Racewalking.

If you've ever played that game where you make up back-stories for people, then you would love the characters on my commute. If you've never played that game, then you've clearly not waited in an airport for any extended period of time. That's the best place to play. I typically like to give people troubled back stories with futures full of perseverance and hope. Or, if I'm feeling creatively lazy, then I like to guess what they just ate.


My morning commute is no Charlotte-Douglas International Airport, but there are certainly some interesting people. Here are a select few of my favorite characters from my daily commute. 

1. Couple Who's Always Late

For the last week or so, every time I get off the Metro train and begin my walk to the office, I'm almost plowed down by a couple holding hands and running as fast as they can. They are always dressed in work clothes and have frantic looks on their faces. The first time it happened I thought, "They're being chased by bad guys!" (Because that's the logical option). But I saw no one running after them.