The wedding is sometime in 2035 and you're all invited
Archer: So, uh, what do you want to do?
Thalia: Um...I guess we could compare feet or something.
Archer: You don't think they're too big? I get 'em from my mom.
Thalia: Mom, you're like, TOTALLY embarrassing me.
Go back to trading birth stories, or whatever.
(Thanks, Rebecca, for making my first in-person blog contact so enjoyable that Nate had to call me and yell at me to get the hell back to the hotel already because it was way past the baby's bedtime. Bad mommy. Great afternoon.)