Road Trip
As I mentioned in my last blog entry, I'm about to embark on another road trip. I'm headed to Cleveland. Why Cleveland, you ask? Well, several reasons. Allow me to start from the beginning.
My friend Rachel and I met on the first day of school in sixth grade. We attended Garfield Elementary School in Springfield, Virginia and were both in Mrs. Crawford's class (the best teacher ever, hands down). As of September 2011, Rachel and I have been friends for thirty years. Holy cow, we are old. Well, she is ten months younger than I am, if you must know. However, she already had boobs when I met her. I'll never forget when she and Sharon advised me, at a sleepover later that year, that I didn't actually need a bra at all and shouldn't bother to wear one.
Rachel and I came to be good friends during sixth grade. She was friendly and smart and gregarious - the type of person you couldn't help but like. We hung out at the mall, had sleepovers, all that jazz. Our friendship was, at times, a bit tumultuous. One time she got mad at me and informed me that she had taken a poll and that, indeed, the whole sixth grade hated me. To this day I'm still not sure if a poll was actually taken, but I'm pretty sure it was less than scientific.
Over the years, we've lost touch at times. However, I've never worried that our friendship has fizzled out or died. It is a constant. She was my Matron of Honor at my wedding. Two of her three sons are my Godsons. I figure we'll always be connected, in some way, for the long haul. The challenge is that we live so far apart and don't get to spend much time together. Even finding time to chat on the phone is difficult at times. She's a Twitter girl and I've never really taken to it (be sure to subscribe to my Twitter feed so that I can dazzle you with my clever semi-annual tweets). I seem to have chosen Facebook as my official time-waster. So, it's high time we spend some quality time together and we're meeting in Cleveland to celebrate our anniversary. We're leaving husbands and children behind.
There's quite a bit to do in Cleveland, it seems. We were elated to learn that there is a garlic festival happening this weekend. Apparently it is quite the shindig. We can't wait! Our goal is not to leave until we have garlic coming out of our pores and our collective breath can be detected by innocent bystanders on both coasts. We are also headed to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. There is a new "women in rock" exhibit that I'm excited to see. The last time I was at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, my daughter had learned to walk exactly one day earlier. So, that's all she wanted to do - practice her new skill. P and I tried to read the various plaques and exhibits as fast as we could while chasing a fourteen-month-old. It was less than ideal.
I'm not sure what other types of trouble we'll get into this weekend, but I'm confident we'll think of something. I hope my family can live without me. If you live in my town and if over the weekend you happen to see a little girl with uncombed hair who is dressed like Punky Brewster on a bad day, just give her father a sympathetic smile and then look away.
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On a side note, P informed me that he has some change that I can use for the tolls. Then he said, "Maybe you should, you know, earn it." Seriously. At work my time bills out to clients at $115 an hour. What, exactly, does he think a handful of quarters will get him? I told my mom and she suggested that I offer just to look at it* for a couple minutes.
*You know what she means.
Rachel and I came to be good friends during sixth grade. She was friendly and smart and gregarious - the type of person you couldn't help but like. We hung out at the mall, had sleepovers, all that jazz. Our friendship was, at times, a bit tumultuous. One time she got mad at me and informed me that she had taken a poll and that, indeed, the whole sixth grade hated me. To this day I'm still not sure if a poll was actually taken, but I'm pretty sure it was less than scientific.
Over the years, we've lost touch at times. However, I've never worried that our friendship has fizzled out or died. It is a constant. She was my Matron of Honor at my wedding. Two of her three sons are my Godsons. I figure we'll always be connected, in some way, for the long haul. The challenge is that we live so far apart and don't get to spend much time together. Even finding time to chat on the phone is difficult at times. She's a Twitter girl and I've never really taken to it (be sure to subscribe to my Twitter feed so that I can dazzle you with my clever semi-annual tweets). I seem to have chosen Facebook as my official time-waster. So, it's high time we spend some quality time together and we're meeting in Cleveland to celebrate our anniversary. We're leaving husbands and children behind.
There's quite a bit to do in Cleveland, it seems. We were elated to learn that there is a garlic festival happening this weekend. Apparently it is quite the shindig. We can't wait! Our goal is not to leave until we have garlic coming out of our pores and our collective breath can be detected by innocent bystanders on both coasts. We are also headed to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. There is a new "women in rock" exhibit that I'm excited to see. The last time I was at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, my daughter had learned to walk exactly one day earlier. So, that's all she wanted to do - practice her new skill. P and I tried to read the various plaques and exhibits as fast as we could while chasing a fourteen-month-old. It was less than ideal.
I'm not sure what other types of trouble we'll get into this weekend, but I'm confident we'll think of something. I hope my family can live without me. If you live in my town and if over the weekend you happen to see a little girl with uncombed hair who is dressed like Punky Brewster on a bad day, just give her father a sympathetic smile and then look away.
************************
On a side note, P informed me that he has some change that I can use for the tolls. Then he said, "Maybe you should, you know, earn it." Seriously. At work my time bills out to clients at $115 an hour. What, exactly, does he think a handful of quarters will get him? I told my mom and she suggested that I offer just to look at it* for a couple minutes.
*You know what she means.
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