However, imagine my surprise to find that someone had hijacked my blogger identity in my absence. Apparently someone who was left behind had a little free time and decided to tweak the look of hondo by removing the barb wire background and inserting some bluebirds and other chirpy looking images. I had kind of been meaning to find a new, less abrasive look for this little online journal I keep, but when I saw the birds and swirls I realized that I really kind of like the barb wire. In fact, I think I had really rounded the corners too much with the pink. You'll now be treated to a new and improved tough girl look that's a little more streamlined. Pink is for sissies.
I also realized upon looking at the pathetic pictures I took with my phone - since I forgot the real camera - that I have very little in the way of photos to do justice to this excursion. The good news there is that I certainly didn't live this trip behind the camera! The basic story is this: five women who met in 1991, eight kids, beautiful golf course lodge, dozens of frogs, hours of swimming, some wine, some margartias, very little sleep and more than a few trips down memory lane...you get the picture.
In the last 48 hours I've been reminded of some wonderful truths:
The later the grown-ups go to bed, the earlier the kids will wake.
Kids can play together for hours and never stop to be bothered by the fact that they can't remember one another's names. At various times in the last 48 hours our collective children were referred to by each other as "that one"; "the other one"; "the boy who has the same shirt as me"; "that girl who lives in Colorado" and "the girl with the really bad cough."
(I like to call this the Yalta Conference. I don't know what was being discussed but it was very important.)
A good friend is one who has seen you at your worst and your best and still offers to help check your child's hair for ticks in the dark while said child sleeps, because other still-awake children have been discovered to have acquired some on their frog catching expedition.
Tiny, adorable frogs caught from a golf course pond will not all survive the excitement of being trapped into a suntea jar and then transferred to separate water bottles. It will at first seem excessive to trap 25 of them for eight kids but those numbers actually work out in the end. Some of them will literally be encouraged to death during frog races.
When left with some unsupervised free time, older, cooler kids will teach the younger, more impressionable ones some neat tricks like armpit farting. Anyone who encounters Andrew in the next month should be prepared to squelch this new activity.
It's amazing how none of us have really aged in 19 years and yet we have all these kids.
Sunsets in the country are more beautiful and we were treated to a spectacular one on Monday night to which the old Blackberry camera couldn't really do justice.
Friends really are, in so many ways, a kind of family you choose.