A trip North to shake my tailfeather.

Oh happy weekend!

A three day weekend lies ahead my friends.  And this girl is going to try and make the most out of it. 

What's that you say?  Am I going to be getting all the major projects done around my house?  Am I going to clean off my stupid, TRASHY porch or finally trellis the peas that the quail have been eating?  Am I going to till up that patch of land that still needs to be planted?  Am I going to clean out my God-forsaken cellar that is housing everything from empty wine bottles to baby clothes?  Am I finally going to sit down and plan the monthly menu I have been dreaming about?  Am I going get my desk organized, laundry put away, and windows washed?

Umm...

Good idea, but no.

Instead, Stuart, baby G and I will be heading North for the weekend to spend some much needed time with this guy:

Remember him?  Not the one on the right - that's my husband (lucky me, I know).  I'm talkin' about the other guy.  The one who lives far away from here.

Because they,

...(remember them?) will be rockin' some serious bluegrass at an outdoor music festival on Saturday.  And you know what?  I'm going....and I'm going to shake my tailfeather.  Twist & shout.  Drop it like it's hot.  And all the rejected dance moves in between.  Because, let's be honest with each other, there is nothing quite as classy as seein' a white girl, with a baby on her hip, in a large-brimmed sunhat, shakin' her tailfeather.

I'm going to hang out with my handsome husband, sweet baby, and wonderful brother-in-law.  And I'm going to drink coffee and stay in pajamas until noon.  And I'm going to smell the ocean air.  And I'm going to go walk around and window shop in the stores downtown.  And I'm going to take lots and lots of pictures.  And I'm going to watch movies.  And eat lots of food.  And drink some scotch.  And smoke a cigar.

Alright, alright...those last two are activities I do not participate in.  They are strictly for "Men Only".  "Elliott Men", to be exact.  And although Stuart loves for me to have a sip of his scotch and give him my review (as if I have any sort of palate for such a fine liquor), I highly doubt he will be pouring me a dram of his Glenlivet anytime soon.  But that's neither here-nor-there.

So until we meet again my dear friends, pray that I will survive my weekend of traveling...

...while still using cloth diapers. 

Because we all know there's nothing quite as fun as packing a diaper pail around in your car.

Rock on!