So, let's see...
I am officially on vacation until Monday morning, 8AM. I am so excited.
Tomorrow morning, there's an Aqua Circuit class at the Y at 7AM with Julie. She's the hardest freaking water instructor, and I am going to be there. BOOM! Unless I accidentally sleep in, but let's face it - I wake up of my own accord every morning by 6:30, so I think we're good.
I definitely want to hit up the Farmers Market again. If I could find another quart of blackberries, I'd snap them up in a second. Although, I let the peaches go bad, and I can't seem to finish off the cantaloupe, so maybe I need to Ix-nay the Ackberries-Blay. I don't know. We'll see. If the Amish folks are there, I'll buy flowers and take them to the party I'm going to tomorrow night.
Yep, big to-do down in Franklin - our friends are hosting and you can see the fireworks from their deck. I'm taking potato salad. Because I can. And because in checking with other friends that are going, desserts appear to be under control.
I'd like to get in a matinee of Moonrise Kingdom. Because I love Wes Anderson. And because it's playing at our local arthouse cinema - The Belcourt - and they are awesome and deserve our patronage.
I have to pack for Atlanta. And while I'm at it, Chicago. No stress. Actually tons of stress.
The Atlanta trip is causing me tsuris - the weather is going to make the annual picnic in the mountains hot, hot, hot. And my parents are concerned about the heat and their pugs. I get it, but that's the price you pay for having heat intolerant flat-faced trailer trash dogs.
I kid. I call them that because they're brachycephalic - no real snouts. Makes them likely to overheat and it's harder for them to breathe. See also bullies and Bostons.
Anyway, Lola's not especially heat resistant. She's thirteen though. I think we'll be fine, and if not, we'll go back to my parents' house.
Aside from the annual meeting and the picnic up at the cabin, my agenda, in re: the mountains is mostly my own. I want to be up to my neck in the coldest waterfall I can find. And that's not a hard get. I want to take photos. I want to take naps. Maybe even drink a beer.
I want to measure for a television, because I'm going to buy one for Dad. Late father's day present. That's how I roll, bitches. Don't freak - it's not like we're getting him a 60" mammajamma. We think it won't be any bigger than 32" and should run well under $300. Which I can do, and will.
Now, on Sunday, I head home and start worrying about the Chicago trip, and that's the real concern. It has the potential to be a Charlie Foxtrot. Yep, it could go Tango Uniform in a heartbeat.
Bravo Yankee, Bravo Yankee.
But you know, it's all good. Really and truly.
I'm on vacation!
ae
I am officially on vacation until Monday morning, 8AM. I am so excited.
Tomorrow morning, there's an Aqua Circuit class at the Y at 7AM with Julie. She's the hardest freaking water instructor, and I am going to be there. BOOM! Unless I accidentally sleep in, but let's face it - I wake up of my own accord every morning by 6:30, so I think we're good.
I definitely want to hit up the Farmers Market again. If I could find another quart of blackberries, I'd snap them up in a second. Although, I let the peaches go bad, and I can't seem to finish off the cantaloupe, so maybe I need to Ix-nay the Ackberries-Blay. I don't know. We'll see. If the Amish folks are there, I'll buy flowers and take them to the party I'm going to tomorrow night.
Yep, big to-do down in Franklin - our friends are hosting and you can see the fireworks from their deck. I'm taking potato salad. Because I can. And because in checking with other friends that are going, desserts appear to be under control.
I'd like to get in a matinee of Moonrise Kingdom. Because I love Wes Anderson. And because it's playing at our local arthouse cinema - The Belcourt - and they are awesome and deserve our patronage.
I have to pack for Atlanta. And while I'm at it, Chicago. No stress. Actually tons of stress.
The Atlanta trip is causing me tsuris - the weather is going to make the annual picnic in the mountains hot, hot, hot. And my parents are concerned about the heat and their pugs. I get it, but that's the price you pay for having heat intolerant flat-faced trailer trash dogs.
 |
| Maggie, tolerating the heat. Just barely. |
I kid. I call them that because they're brachycephalic - no real snouts. Makes them likely to overheat and it's harder for them to breathe. See also bullies and Bostons.
Anyway, Lola's not especially heat resistant. She's thirteen though. I think we'll be fine, and if not, we'll go back to my parents' house.
 |
| Lola. Hot, and can't be bothered. |
Aside from the annual meeting and the picnic up at the cabin, my agenda, in re: the mountains is mostly my own. I want to be up to my neck in the coldest waterfall I can find. And that's not a hard get. I want to take photos. I want to take naps. Maybe even drink a beer.
I want to measure for a television, because I'm going to buy one for Dad. Late father's day present. That's how I roll, bitches. Don't freak - it's not like we're getting him a 60" mammajamma. We think it won't be any bigger than 32" and should run well under $300. Which I can do, and will.
Now, on Sunday, I head home and start worrying about the Chicago trip, and that's the real concern. It has the potential to be a Charlie Foxtrot. Yep, it could go Tango Uniform in a heartbeat.
 |
| Rent this movie (The Last Detail) immediately, if not sooner. |
Bravo Yankee, Bravo Yankee.
But you know, it's all good. Really and truly.
I'm on vacation!
ae
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