Saturday... Check.

Today... was a day. Dark and stormy, thanks to Hurricane Fay, and also thanks to my mysteriously malfunctioning oven. Let me explain.

Today, a bunch of the high school girls took a day trip to Montgomery to see K & B's new house, so I decided to spread the bread baby love and take a loaf of sourdough down there. I got up early, turned on the oven and, within minutes, smoke was pouring out my range.

Panicked, I called the maintenance guy and then my mom. I had a flash-baked loaf of bread, a smoke-filled kitchen, and a maintenance guy asking me about the last time I cleaned my oven. Like I remember this. Seriously. (Don't tell B. Far as he knows, I clean my oven every night, right after I floss.)

I looked at the sad loaf and said, "Screw it." Smoke be damned, I was baking this bread. I "cleaned" what I could from the oven, even leaving it a little offering of part of my hand in the processes (only a slight second-degree burn at most, I'm sure). Tossed the loaf in and let it bask in its smoky flavor. I'm calling it Artisan Bread and optioning the secret recipe to Panera next week.

Post-carb fiasco, I headed to meet the girls and their guys and one baby and the eight of us headed down to Montgomery, where we had lunch then spent the day avoiding the rain inside watching K&B's wedding video, making dinner, looking through old pictures, and just catching up. Perfect day. Fay wailed away outside, but we didn't mind too much.

When it came time to leave, we packed up and headed home. I got out in the pouring rain and couldn't get in my car--It has an automatic sensor lock/unlock mechanism, so I thought I might've left my key in H's car. Ran back, checked. Nope. Found key in purse. Popped actual key in door, got door open only to realize that my car was, well, dead. Dead dead. Not even pretending to crank dead.

So I did what any respectable almost 25-year-old girl would do. I ran flailing into the rain to flag down my friend and her boyfriend, who graciously came back, graciously took me to Wal-Mart, and graciously jumped my battery in the pouring rain. For my birthday, I want jumper cables. Seriously.

It all worked out. I got my car started and got home and my friend's boyfriend, well, he not only got my undying love and devotion (seriously C. Never been so attractive to me as tonight.), but also the excuse to buy a 93-piece auto roadside assistance kit. No kidding, the tiny dop-sized bag has ponchos, traffic cones, a flash light, a cone to turn your flashlight into a traffic-directing flare, a fire-smothering blanket, a host of tools, jumper cables (obviously), and about 83 other things. I wouldn't be surprised if one was a t-shirt with a name patch you could custom design. I think C might just be getting a second job with AAA.

What a day. So good to see friends and remember what's important in life. Also good to be humbled and reminded that I am still very much in need and connected to those around me, be it by circumstance or, in this instance, jumper cables.