Okay, I have a slight fever, so who knows exactly what I’m going to say and how I’m going to say it. This will either be a very entertaining post (where have those all gone???? you are wondering) or it will be a very mundane post (oh, like the last 372! you are thinking).
So, two things:
One, I mentioned the possibility of a move to a different state in the last post. At this point, I believe, it is a very remote possibility. A big part of me really hopes it is so remote it never happens because, moving? Ugh! Plus moving horses? Only crazy people would do that. Plus moving a pre-teen who has solemnly declared we are not allowed to go anywhere until she is old enough to not care about the ginormous swing set her father built for her and the others? It would all be very heinous.
But civilization would be so very, very nice. And it’s only one state away (though it would put us another hour or two away from what will always be home to me). But the company would pay for it, and they would buy this house if we couldn’t sell it. So, all-in-all, I could live through it. Again, though, I think the likelihood is very slim.
Which means I need another way to get myself into civilization, even if it’s only temporarily. Which brings me to my 40th birthday. Which isn’t for 10 more months. But people! It is this year. Maybe that is what is causing all of my migraines.
Anyway, my very best friend also turns 40 this year, just a month before I do. So we’ve decided we need to do something big. Something that will make us, temporarily, forget how old we’ve gotten in the seemingly short time we’ve known each other. We met right before we both turned 20.
At this point I feel the overwhelming need to exclaim, “Good God!” but that would be using the Lord’s name in vain, which I don’t do. Somehow, though, “Good gosh!” just doesn’t seem to cover it.
Getting back on track . . . we have decided the big thing we need to do is go to New York City. I may have even thrown in the idea of taking pictures of each other walking by Tiffany’s in black dresses and dark sunglasses. She may have thrown in the idea of Botox. And I? Am left wondering why my 27-year-old self was so mortified by the idea of women having poison injected into their faces. Of course, back then I didn’t have furrows on my face in which I could plant, grow and cultivate corn.
Anyhoo . . . for those of you out there who are familiar at all with NYC (any of you still reading?), HELP! I am very unfamiliar with NYC. Suggestions of places to go? Places to stay? Spas that aren’t ungodly expensive or give discounts to aging women with cultivatable face furrows? Will we be mugged because, obviously, only idiot tourists would dress up like Aubrey Hepburn just to walk in front of Tiffany’s? Any and all pointers would be appreciated (including travel agency ideas – is this a travel agency kind of shindig? I am woefully untraveled(okay, not exactly true, just woefully untraveled in any kind of “I’m staying at a spa and got a great package deal through a travel agent, and this doesn’t involve going to college/a funeral/a wedding” kind of way). We’d be driving in, but still . . .).
And George, if you’re out there . . .