Or we will be in about forty-five minutes, anyway. The girls were both sound asleep by about 11:00 p.m., but my husband and I puttered around, packing our suitcase, my husband marveling at the enormous amount of cosmetics, unguents, lotions and hoo-doo it takes for me to maintain the appearance of a modest forty-something mom instead of, say, a gargoyle.
"We should have rented a U-Haul trailer," he told me earnestly.
I was tempted to go all Taming of the Shrew on him, but we saw that two years ago.
We were all up by 5:15, looking like shiny, happy people as my friend Karen says. Right now we're waiting for the rest of our caravan party to get here -- they're not due for about twenty more minutes. The van is crammed full of our luggage (are we really only going to be gone for three days?) and goodies for my tour people. Those are a big secret, though, and I hope they'll all be delighted when they see them.
So, my dears, until Sunday, when I'll be back with lots of pictures to post and plays to talk about, parting is such sweet sorrow.
SURVIVOR! 42 years! #SisterhoodoftheTravelingPinkSweater - [image: photo DCE66A95-A69B-406C-A811-97D584B6979A_zpsuhhubjtt.jpg] This is my friend Mary. Mary is a 42-year survivor of breast cancer. That, of course, is...
1 month ago