Friday, 3:30 PM

The Businessman: Do you want to go on a road trip?
Me: Where?
TBM: There.
Me: What about all the obligations we have?
TBM: We won't be able to go there until next year if we don't go now.
Me: Okay

There is a place I've never been (though my mother insists otherwise--I don't think it counts if you're too little to remember). It's a place I want to go, at a time when a weird phenomenon happens that I want to see.

Priorities. First I chose a knitting project:


Then I tell the kids to pack themselves because mommy has to load up two days of blogs.

Yummy, age almost 6


Not bad. I added a short sleeved shirt, socks, and his blanket. He's too big to admit he wanted to bring it.

Next up: Vish, Age 3

Note the toys. Clearly the child has learned priority issues somewhere. I added underpants, PJs, his blanket and socks.

The Businessman packs for himself, organizes all meals, makes all reservations, analyzes all routes, doublechecks all our packing, and maps out all the Starbucks between here and there. I think it was in the marriage vows.

Also, he's in the middle of organizing a huge conference at work and this is good practice for him. Like herding cats.

How long did it take to get there?

I had knit this much sock when we arrived at the visitor center--the heel turn is done.

Where am I?

You tell me.