I was browsing back through this blog tonight because in the first place, I can’t believe I’ve started it – I always sucked at keeping journals as a kid, and in the second place, it seems like there should be way more entries than there are. This routine feels so familiar, checking in on everyone’s blogs I’ve come to love reading, sifting through topics and seeing if I can come with anything worthwhile to say, for myself or maybe someone else. Why is it when something important happens, good or bad, time seems to stand still for a while? It’s like you live so much in such a short period of time, but only a couple of days has gone by and it seems like a month. I swear it seems like I’ve been doing this for years.

Normal schedule’s not on my agenda for a while – some trips have kind of come up. I am going to be a travellin’ bitch over the next few weeks. This weekend we’re going to Chicago, me to visit an almost-lost friend and D for a conference. Turns out my friend’s been dealing with <gasp> infertility and nobody understands. How fucking ironic. Because of mutually sucking it up, we’ve almost completely lost our friendship. Some bridge building to do, but I’m so ready for it. Labor Day weekend we’re going to the in-laws to visit them and their ski boat (ahem… we’d have visited if they didn’t have the boat, it’s just coincidental, I swear), and then 9/14 we depart for Cabo San Lucas. I’m even buying a new bathing suit for that one, and I have always been a one swimsuit girl. Never lived near a body of water that warranted a new pretty suit, I thought. Lakes, quarries etc. Now I’m getting a special one for wandering my sunburned ass around the beach desperately searching for another margarita or three. Me and D and a gay couple sharing a suite for a week – I’ll have stories for a lifetime after this, and I will take pictures of everything, post what I can and share what stories won’t get me jailed. I’m not above ratting out my roommates, though……

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