Mike and I leave ridiculously early in the morning for Florida. We're waking at such an ungodly hour, we're actually contemplating not going to sleep at all tonight. When you plan a trip, months in advance, you always find the cost of the ticket to outweigh the loss of sleep you'll experience from having to be at the ticket counter at FIVE IN THE MORNING. Then the night before the flight finally arrives and you begin to wonder how many hundred-dollar bills you would have to throw at someone to entice them to hold the plane until 10am. Fine, noon.
We're going to visit Mike's dad's side of the family this time—for his grandma's 80th birthday party. We'll be gone for four days, back on Tuesday night, and if you hate me already for this mini-vacation, I imagine you'll be just beside yourself when I drop the word EIGHTY followed by the word DEGREES. I'm packing flip flops and sundresses but am leaving the swimsuit at home. No vacationers deserve to be subjected to that. My husband included.
While I'm gone, I've asked two incredible women to watch over things and entertain you with their own thoughts. Next time I'm gone (to Portland, later this spring), I'll ask a few more. Eventually I'll share the burden with each of you, and you're welcome for that.
Enjoy the much-needed break from all my obsessive One Tree Hill talk. And keep thinking warm and fuzzy thoughts about our much-wanted house-to-be. I hope to have some sort of update when I get back.