Should I Go?

My annual girlfriend trip to Phoenix is coming up. Normally, I would be giddy with anticipation. This year is a little different. The mother-in-law is still in the rehab facility. Hangdog is here and we have very few days to make some tough choices, get answers from VA and Medicare, choose a facility and actually move him. (Including packing for him and coordinating meds, etc.) Then, she will need to be moved as well.

This is my relaxation trip. I read. I get up early and sit with Abby (the other early riser) and we light a fire and sip our coffee. Other than a couple of trips to our favorite Mexican Cantina and the cowboy bar and the coffee shop, we eat whatever great stuff Big Sal has on hand. We're all easy to please. Jeans, sweats or PJs are the favored attire. We watch schmaltzy Lifetime movies. Then we eventually figure out the DVD player and watch other movies. We cuddle with Big Sal's dogs and we sit on the humongous patio or on the rooftop perch and solve the problems of the world, or just our lives.

I get to laugh. A LOT! Last year, I stumbled on Pam in the bathroom in the middle of the night. She thought I was a bear. Not only did we both scream but then we heard Cynthia laughing in her bed. (We had the bunkhouse last time, which is fabulous and for the record, I don't believe a bear could manage those stairs.)

We're all very predictable. Abby will be the first to go to bed, although I might challenge her this year. Mickey will be the last to rise, although I might challenge her this year. We will watch for the javelinas. (Don't call them pigs!)
We will go to Last Chance although none of us needs a single thing.

But...my house is in crisis. The oldies are in crisis. The husband cannot attend to all of these things alone.

I'll believe I'm actually going once someone throws me on the plane and I hear, "Cross check and call forward." Until then, I'm a little skeptical. But, I have been threatened with bodily harm by the girlfriends if I don't make the trip. That might do it. My girlfriends are mighty strong women. I'm a tad afeared of them.

Shoes

What is the deal with women and shoes? I will be the first to admit that I own too many shoes.

When I was headed off to college, my dad had a rare meltdown as he counted the pairs of shoes I was taking.

Yesterday, I was asked to be a fashion consultant for the mother-in-law. (A regular job that I've come to enjoy.) As I dug through her shoes, I realized that she has almost as many shoes as I do.

Is it a weight thing? Your clothing size may fluctuate but hey, you can always buy shoes.

The workout girls go to Phoenix every year. We go to our favorite discount place. The moment the gate goes up, we head for the shoes.

Big Daddy also thinks I own too many coats.