I don't have a full post here for tonight. I just got home from spending an emotional long weekend with a good showing of my sisterfriends.
We went up to my family's place on Lake Winnepesaukee in NH.
We ate too much pie. Drank just enough wine. Said really-funny-if-vulgar things that would absolutely horrify our adolescent sons if they'd heard us. Missed the sister who cannot join us ever again. Cried a wee bit. Laughed a bit more. Ate a bit more pie with a dip-and-chip chaser. Played with a sister's hair. Ran some errands. Popped into a pub for some lunch.
Cheered on the gals that got tattoos and the one that got her nose pierced.
(No, Mama, I didn't get either this time.)
Missed the Man Who Loved Us who can't cheer us on in our hairbrained schemes anymore. Cried a wee bit more. Laughed more than that. Had a cup or two of camomile tea. Let a dark and handsome stranger buy us breakfast. (Okay, he wasn't EXACTLY a stranger. Two of us went to summer camp together 30 years ago...) White tornadoed the house so that my folks keep letting me sit at the adult table. Packed up the last few pieces of pie for the long ride home.
I arrived home to a delightfully affectionate welcome from my boys--my husband, my sons, and my pooches. And there was an email from my firstborn, Thing 1, the daughter who never fails to bless my socks off. It was simply this link:
Between that, Thing 2's commitment to doing whatever My Personal Chef and I come up with to "make memories," and the Evil Genius' pronouncement that "Christmas is about food and family--mostly family," I think we're starting to figure out where we'll be going this season.
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