What a great weekend.
So a few months ago when Nester and I were chatting, the conversation went like this:
Annie: Hey Nester, remember how much fun we had?
Annie: And you know how much I want to hang out with your boyz and meet your hubs?
Nester: uh… yeah….?
Annie: So what say I come visit for a weekend?
[Because dear internet, I invite myself over a lot. Consider yourself warned.]
insert Emily here: I’ll come too! And bring my kids!
Nester: Sure, if you wanna.
Annie & Emily [in unison]: WE WANNA!
Annie buys a flight to North Carolina.
And now I’d like to thank (in)courage for building the kind of beach house that allows the writers to build the kind of friendships that makes us want to fly around the country to see each other.
[Orange County and Arkansas, I’m comin’ for you in 2012.]
I’d also like to thank (in)courage for having skype meetings where it is possible for us to have side chat conversations… and now I’d like to apologize for having a side conversation with Nester and Emily during our skype meeting. We’re like the girls who pass notes during class.
Back to the weekend. To put it simply, we laughed and ate cake. Cake from CostCo. That means it was delicious.
The kids were a joy to be around – I think it helped that I brought fourteen fake mustaches. Nester’s youngest boy wore a grey grandpa mustache like he was BORN with it. Classy. For sure. Lots of card games, including Old Maid.
You got that right. I’m an Old Maid shark. I’m an Old Maid who is afraid of sharks? Yes and yes.
Anyways. I loved the weekend and the only other place I wanted to be was with my daddy for Father’s Day. Big thanks to Nester and Emily for loving me well and making me feel at home every time we are together, whether homes are involved or not.
Today I hop on a plane again and fly from Charlotte to upstate New York where I’ll get to meet up with my Scottish pal Esther- who flew over from Edinburgh- and drive her around to business meetings for 4 days. She doesn’t exactly “know” how to drive on our side of the road and our side of the car, so I get to be her chauffeur.
I know. My life is weird. And hilarious. And bizarro.
But it’s mine. And I’m grateful.
. . . . . . . . . . .
How was your weekend?