Tomorrow we reluctantly tear ourselves away from the food, fun, and shopping fiesta we've been indulging in and head home to Maine. All good things must end, and my pants don't fit so well anymore, so it's time to get back to reality. And the gym. Especially the gym.
Bear is starting to miss her friends, pine trees, and sleeping in her own bed.
Daddy Shortbread misses the cats.
I miss being able to button my pants.
Bug doesn't miss a thing. She'd be happy to bask in the glow of her grandparents' adoration forever. But I'd like to think that she'd eventually miss us, so we're taking her with us.
I'd like to send up a small prayer to the Gods of Travel that our return trip involve easier driving weather than our trip out. Because THIS is what we drove through on the way here: I'd like to submit a formal request for clear-to-partly-cloudy-skies, a lack of significant precipitation, and a liberal dotting of Starbucks along our route. Thank you.