Hopefully We’ll Find The Mythical Giant Ball of Twine

In two days I will leave the most ridiculous weather of Kansas (Blizzard? Really? ‘Eff you, Kansas?) and head south for my first vacation without Lulu since the day she was born.

Yes. She’s almost three. So what?

I’m road tripping down to Dallas with my dramatic friend Mara, where we will join our little Alabamian (Alabaman? ‘Bama native? Whatever.) Abbie at her in-laws’ castle. While there we plan on drinking beers, playing Rock Band, drinking wine, shopping at outlet malls, drinking bourbon, shopping at IKEA, drinking cocktails, sitting by the pool (also, rubbing aloe all over my sure-to-be sunburn), reading magazines, fighting about politics, and drinking Mike’s Hard Lemonade (Abbie, not me).

Also, we may do some drinking.

One of the best parts about this trip (besides the concert we’re seeing and the time I’ll get to snuggle Abbie’s 11-month-old baby and the beers and the meeting of Abbie’s Alabama friend, the most beautifully named, Megan) is that Mara and I will be stuck in a car together for seven hours. I cannot imagine the shenanigans that will ensue, but I’m sure they will be embarrassing (see: that one Twilight post from a few days ago). I can’t wait to stop at random diners in Oklahoma and hear Mara try to order something vegan (or vAAAAAY-gan, as they call it in Texas). I keep picturing those Pace Picante Sauce commercials from the 80s. Remember:

“NEW YORK CITY! Get a rope…”

Yep, I think it will be just like that. Only Mara’s more dramatic than most cowboys and will whine more. But she probably will call me Cookie. I promise, I’ll bring my video camera.