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And so I�ve settled in to GNS. That�s �Given Notice Syndrome,� for the uninitiated out there. You know, where after you tell your boss that you�re leaving, you start to feel like you might as well have given two-days notice, instead of three and a half weeks, since you�d get about as much productive work done in two days as you will in the whole stretch of time you have left at your desk? Yep. That�s me.
Anyway�
I learned something very interesting about airline baggage this weekend. Any suitcase that is checked on a flight must weigh less than 70 pounds. It also must have a linear inch total under 62� (length plus width plus height). How do I know this, you ask? Because the suitcase my mother attempted to check a suitcase (the one we affectionately refer to as �the suithouse�) that both outweighed the limit by seven pounds and outmeasured it by nine inches. She had unzipped the secret squirrel expander and packed both the front and the back pockets to bursting.
We redistributed its contents on the floor in the airport rather than pay the $160 surcharge they wanted to slap us with ($80 for the extra pounds and another $80 for the extra inches).
This was �Fly to Ohio, Meet Judy and Erica and Shop �til Our Bank Accounts are Empty� weekend, and we successfully did all of those things. Other than the wedding, which was a little too busy for quality girl time, the last time the four of us were together was when we went to New York for Judy�s birthday. We laughed much, ate more and bought a path clear through Dresden. Just doing our part to boost the economy.
The Husband took us to the airport on Friday morning. Our plane left the ground at 6 am. It was not a pretty sight.
He and I had The Big Talk, Part II on Thursday night before my mom got to the Condo. I think the weekend apart gave us some better perspective. It was a much happier reunion on Sunday than it was a parting on Friday. Of course, it wasn�t the AssCrackOfDawn when he picked us up. That might have something to do with it.
We had dinner on Saturday at Buca di Beppo. I wish there was one closer to home. Still the best Chicken Marsala I�ve ever tasted. As always, the food was incredible, the service was great, the atmosphere was fun. The four of us split a bottle of wine, which made us very, very silly. Our waiter didn�t quite know what to do with us, but he played along gamely.
I can�t think any more. My head is pounding, the Tylenol don�t appear to be working, and the vent over my desk is making airplane takeoff noises.
Perhaps it�s time to go home. Not gonna get anything else done in here today, anyway.
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