Gearing up for the great roadtrip
I didn't sleep well last night. Could NOT get comfortable, then woke at 5AM and had a tough time getting back to sleep. Middle age is a pain---literally!---but it's better than dying young.
Today I've been trading emails with GK about the impending wedding of her brother. I now have a better idea of who's going, when and where they're being picked up, plus what we're going to do when we get over there. It's Sarasota, which is actually an hour south of Tampa. *twitch* According to GK, we probably won't get to the motel until 8 or 9---is it too much to hope it'll be closer to 8 and that I can get dibs on the TV for a scant hour?!
There's an outlet mall near our hotel, and there's talk of an expedition. With my customary sang-froid, I've located info on it, including a map, and am planning what stores I especially want to hit, and in which order. (Lane Bryant is two doors are from Koret. Be still my heart! And a Corelle outlet, like the one in Vero. Plus a number of the brands I represented until so recently. This is going to be FUN.)
Tonight is movie night at church, which I'm looking forward to, and I also have season one of Deadwood, which I've been working my way through and enjoying enormously. I've had a fancy for Ian McShane since his Lovejoy days, and this?! Holy crap, he's such a ruthless bastard here. I'm only on episode three, and I've already lost count of how many people he's killed or ordered killed. And...it was rather touching: The young lady at the library who checked the DVDs out to me warned me, "There's a lot of cursing." I guess I've reached the stage of life where the younger generation thinks they have to protect me from the seamier side of life---and honey, she wasn't kidding. I don't think more than two consecutive minutes have lapsed yet without someone firing off some language.
Of course, I'm loving Jim Beaver as Ellsworth...who can cuss with the best of them. "Idjit" would be pallid indeed beside some of his dialog here. Will someone please point me to the crossover fic that has Bobby being haunted by his great-great-granduncle's ghost, who calls the boys "limber-dick cocksuckers"? Or write it?
My procrastination is assuming fearsome proportions---I really need to get over to Kat's to work on my dress, but that'll have to be tomorrow or Sunday, since she has company from out of town today. I keep telling myself that it really isn't going to be that complicated, but I'll feel better when it's done.
Today I've been trading emails with GK about the impending wedding of her brother. I now have a better idea of who's going, when and where they're being picked up, plus what we're going to do when we get over there. It's Sarasota, which is actually an hour south of Tampa. *twitch* According to GK, we probably won't get to the motel until 8 or 9---is it too much to hope it'll be closer to 8 and that I can get dibs on the TV for a scant hour?!
There's an outlet mall near our hotel, and there's talk of an expedition. With my customary sang-froid, I've located info on it, including a map, and am planning what stores I especially want to hit, and in which order. (Lane Bryant is two doors are from Koret. Be still my heart! And a Corelle outlet, like the one in Vero. Plus a number of the brands I represented until so recently. This is going to be FUN.)
Tonight is movie night at church, which I'm looking forward to, and I also have season one of Deadwood, which I've been working my way through and enjoying enormously. I've had a fancy for Ian McShane since his Lovejoy days, and this?! Holy crap, he's such a ruthless bastard here. I'm only on episode three, and I've already lost count of how many people he's killed or ordered killed. And...it was rather touching: The young lady at the library who checked the DVDs out to me warned me, "There's a lot of cursing." I guess I've reached the stage of life where the younger generation thinks they have to protect me from the seamier side of life---and honey, she wasn't kidding. I don't think more than two consecutive minutes have lapsed yet without someone firing off some language.
Of course, I'm loving Jim Beaver as Ellsworth...who can cuss with the best of them. "Idjit" would be pallid indeed beside some of his dialog here. Will someone please point me to the crossover fic that has Bobby being haunted by his great-great-granduncle's ghost, who calls the boys "limber-dick cocksuckers"? Or write it?
My procrastination is assuming fearsome proportions---I really need to get over to Kat's to work on my dress, but that'll have to be tomorrow or Sunday, since she has company from out of town today. I keep telling myself that it really isn't going to be that complicated, but I'll feel better when it's done.