There was a time in the not-so-distant past, when preparing for a trip took a total of twenty minutes. Weekend in Hong Kong? Meet you at the airport. Impromptu trip to Tahoe? I'll drive. The majority of the time I devoted to trip-planning was spent grumbling about my lack of things to wear while I did the laundry.
Now, things are different. I'm getting ready for a MUCH anticipated girls' weekend in California, and the last three days have consisted of meal planning:And rice-cooker instruction-leaving:Now before anyone gets all judge-y, keep in mind that I consider L a perfectly capable and wonderful father. What he is not, always, is in the same country and AB and me. And a happy weekend for L, means a happy weekend for me.
Because that's what this weekend is all about, right? A happy weekend...
Then can someone please tell me why I keep welling up with tears when I think about leaving this face:
Oh, and did I mention this face:How about this face:A woman in her thirties gets away, because she needs to. I've just never had this much cuteness to leave behind.