Is it really May? Really? Damn. Looks like I better fill all five of you who read this in on the last few weeks.
David and I just got back from spending a hectic (for me at least) week in Southern California visiting family and friends and SHOPPING (again just me). We only had one minor mishap: David forgot his boarding pass so he had to reprint it at Cleveland-Hopkins. But that is a major improvement considering the debacle the last time we flew.
David had it easy his family hung out at one house all week. I had to run across town and county visiting everyone and still didn't manage to squeeze in everyone. I broke some promises so the next time I visit those abandoned souls are a priority. I tried to spend as much time with my immediate family as possible. Especially my two godsons. Of course, that meant whenever we went to a store I took my two year-old godson to the toys or DVDs or books and told him to pick something out for "Auntie Samina" to buy. Godmother guilt: expensive for the godmother yet lucrative for the child.
We did take a family outing to the Aquarium of the Pacific. I didn't manage to get to Disneyland, the beach, In N Out, Jack in the Box or to the mall in Beverly Hills. Sigh, high class problems, right? I did get to my hairstylist for a cut and color! I really need to find someone in Ohio. Waiting a year between haircuts, then taking a four hour plane ride to my stylist isn't ideal for someone whose name isn't J.lo. But if I was a celebrity the stylists would come to me, right? Note to self: get rich and famous.
David is glad to be home in Ohio. I'm okay with it. Tomorrow I have to get back into my little bit of routine. I feel like I lost a week in a time warp being in So-Cal. If I could go back home every three months or so that would be awesome but the cost and the flying is too much for me. I don't know how David manages being away from his family for such long stretches of time. He must turn off a part of his brain and resign to the facts and fate. Something I have never been good at doing.
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