Today I went to Marysville, a small city north of Sacramento near the town where I went to high school. I met up with Mary, one of my best friends, who could tell you that in 5th grade, we played S.O.S. instead of doing fractions and that at one point in my life, I took it really personally that I sucked at tetherball. She could also tell you that I sported "Dumb & Dumber" bangs all through college, but she WOULDN'T because Mary is the kind of friend who always tells everyone how talented and smart and creative and pretty you are, so, yeah, she's a Good Egg.
We ate lunch at The BRICK, a bustling little cafe in Old Marysville. Every time I go to The BRICK, I order an Italian shake, a sweet dairy concoction loaded with a Torani syrup of your choosing (I suspect they have EVERY FLAVOR). If you asked, Mary would recommend you get the chicken quesadilla because "it doesn't taste like a chicken quesadilla". It's her favorite and I agree, it's delicious and deserves a name of it's own.
As we wandered around Old Marysville, an area we both grew up around, we started taking a second look at all of the unique historic buildings on this street. Maybe it was because today was one of the first bright and sunny days in a long time, but we became entranced by the details of all the architecture. So, I busted out the camera and took some pictures. Then we went back to discussing what the likliehood would be of a bird pooping on you, square on the head whilst you are running across a parking lot. Is it greater than being struck by lightening, but less than winning the lottery? Or is it an omen of some kind? One thing for sure, one of us needs to buy a lotto ticket, quick.