Sophie left this morning for a week at my parents' house down in Newport Beach. On a plane. By herself. "An unaccompanied minor!!!" as she likes to explain to anyone who shows the slightest interest in where she is going with her new purse, backpack, and violin.
So for a while there will be no doll parties around here.
And the Fix It Up Grooming Shop, where I do all business of this type (often much to my great aggravation when I am trying to get dinner on the table), will be closed.
So you would think I could get a few things done around the house. It's not that I can't find anything to do.
There's canning to be done,
vin de peche to bottle,
the fish tank looks like crap,
and I was supposed to go for a run.
But nooooooooo. After Husband and I got home from the airport, I indulged in a cycle of sloth. I crawled into bed and alternated reading and napping for longer than I'm willing to admit. (Good book so far.)
My dad finally called to report that Sophie was happily ensconced at the IHOP across the street from the airport, tucking into pancakes topped with strawberries and whipped cream.
And I got another call a while later with news that made me feel not so bad about taking pictures of Sophie at the airport using a camera with no memory chip. My dad, who updates his website about twice a year, has posted news of Sophie's arrival. (Check out the little picture on the top banner that turns my parents to stone when you roll over it. And say hi while you're there. He doesn't get many comments.)
She looks kind of happy, no? OK, big breath. Canning.