Anyway, this is what happened

Imagine my surprise when I looked around and there we were. Gone. 

Oh, the places we got gone to...

Let's start with me, Polly.

I went to New York and saw Bookgirl. We wandered, sipped, and nibbled. Occasionally pausing to lounge. And then I came home and started Kindergarten. Because, you know, I heard that I could learn all I ever needed to know there and I was up for it. Kidding. In reality, Secret Lulu started Kindergarten at the end of July. And I became a classroom volunteer, just one day a week. Except after my first one-day, the teacher asked if I could come every day.

I thought she was joking. She wasn't. So there I was doing a daily kindergarten grind, helping people--smallish sorta people--journal during their literacy hour. And then, once they started to get the hang of it, I was allowed to do the fade out. Kind of like I did around here back in the day, only all kindergarten typos are allowed to stand and all accompanying entry pictures are scrawled by hand. In crayon.

 

And then there's Alice.

She actually ran away to a tropical island. No joke. 

Last I saw on the facebook, she was drinking, lounging, and sleeping on a permanent repeat cycle. By herself. She picked some island that's having its hurricane season. The logic is that it was cheap and, hey, it can't rain and howl every day, right?

Alice also pointed out before leaving that all hurricanes aren't...well, I'm not sure I followed her. She seemed to be implying that some hurricanes are worse than others and that, in the event of a hurricane happening it could be a relatively small one. And anyway, she's only going to be on the island six weeks, so what are the odds?

I quickly pretended to do the math and said that six weeks is kind of a long time and by definition, hurricanes--like elephants--aren't small. The odds are good. Or bad. Or something.

Alice said, "whatever, it's cheap and it's an island."

Sometimes I worry about Alice. She's a little too pragmatic for her own good.

Bookgirl was not to be outdone.

Our Bookie went on what can only be described as walkabout. She bounced through the lower forty-eight with remarkable agility, stopping only to jump out of planes and kayak with whales. And once to visit home for clean underwear and, well, something naughty that I'm not allowed to mention because it's personal. But I can say that she had a fabulous time.

And she met Chance. In person. And then they bragged about each other as if I didn't know them both first. Humph. 

I don't know how long it will last but our "That Girl" is safely ensconced in New York for as long as the weather is good. She has a new roommate, who not only pays his portion of the rent on time but leaves pithy notes taped to her chest while she sleeps. 

Chance found true love and happiness.

And then it dropped him like a hot rock. I know what you're thinking, since the aforementioned post mentioned Bookie and Chance meeting and I'm the one who wrote it. But no. That's not it.

Let me assure you that, despite my unrelenting wishing-it-were-so, nothing happened.

It should have. But it didn't. 

Fortunately, neither of them is taken at the moment, as far as I am aware--and I'll admit that isn't particularly far--so Chance has a chance (ha! punny!) to take a chance on Bookie (even punnier, if you allow for gambling humor). Anyway, what this blog really needs is a wedding, so come on you crazy kids, let's get humping. Or down. Or something like that.

I am so bored for a wedding.

Diosa tried to hold down the fort.

But she works too much and we aren't exactly helping. In any case, you know she took the kids to Disneyland and got flooded and a bunch of other stuff that she actually took the time to post about. What you don't know is that she learned both the Vulcan Mind Meld and the Jedi Mind Trick. She really did. But she won't teach it to me. Yet.

She also got a dog. Which leads me to wonder if Trouble and LT picked up the Jedi Mind Trick when she wasn't looking. I mean, come on. It's the worst snow-up-to-the-girlie-bits winter New England has seen since ever and she's signed up to walk a pet multiple times daily? 

Total Jedi Mind Trick. It's the only reasonable explanation.

Right now, as we speak perhaps, she's--well, she's probably working again or walking that dog--but in her free time, she's masterminding a girls' weekend to somewhere warm. She promised the children won't find us and there will be alcohol at night and and blackout curtains in the morning. Wait. I'm not sure that's exactly what she said, but whatever it was, I'm sure that alcohol and blacking out were definitely involved. Or at least implied.

Anyway, I'm there.

The Dol hosted.

Really, that's what she did. She hosted. A lot. And sometimes co-hosted. And when she wasn't hosting, and other people were, she got the party started. 

Not like she did with the Democratic Party last election, you know, where she called people out to vote and knocked on doors. No, this time she brought the bottle opener and steady-poured her way to hostess of the year. 

You really should try her pomegranate mimosas. Conservatives are trying to make them illegal in five states. And yes, one of those states is South Dakota. Because they are against everything fun. Except teenage pregnancy. They seem to be all over that one.

Whatever. 

The Dol was here keeping my glass full and being responsible to several honorable organizations, and really, I was busy emptying my glass, so if you want more details, you're going to have to hit her up style.

The Model did other things.

Like move across the country. And other top-secret madness she won't let me tell anyone about. I find this wildly inconvenient as I am posting about her and could easily fill paragraphs, if only I were at liberty to say.

I seriously do not understand the point of having a secret if it interferes with my gossip. Whatever. What I am at liberty to say is that Model and Rex are happy, the spawn is delightful, and college is going along nicely.

Oh, and she came through the calculus exam with little more than a headache and a passing twitch. Nothing to worry about. All was resolved with a tumbler of sangria.

She's going to have to tell you the rest. I can't do it. Really. She won't let.

Pandora sold small appliances to newlyweds, mostly men.

I have no idea why Pandora decided to get a job. I really don't. Papa Gangsta Pete had the girl covered. Certainly The Dol and I survived on far less when we were trudging up the hill in snow, both ways, to class at Bennington. But Pandora had to go and get herself employed. 

And not even at Sephora or Anthropologie, which I could have almost forgiven--with a little help from a shared discount--but at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. Apparently, the "Beyond" refers to the, ahem, vast array of personal massagers. Or so I was told.

I almost forgave her. Almost. But alas, there was no array. It was all lies.

 I cannot say with any certainty what the Beyond actually is--I can't even say it doesn't take batteries--but I can tell you that it won't be taking anyone over the edge. It's not that kind of Beyond. Not by  a long shot.

Nope.

In any case, Pandora is busy demonstrating the finer points of espresso machines whenever she isn't folding towels. Or stealing my White Elephant Christmas present.

Because she did that--steal my present, I mean--and it broke my heart. Sapped me of my will to live. No, really. Let me tell you, I usually don't care about these White Elephant things but this time, for the first time ever, I got something life changing: Sephora Color Play 5-in-1 collection, which is to say, my favorite thing I didn't know I needed desperately until I unwrapped it.

Five blushes, people. Ten lip colors. FIFTY shades of eyeshadow!!!!!!!

Just look at it. It's sooooooo be-yoo-ti-ful.

My precious.

Hiss.

I'm not over it. I tried to be. I really did. I went so far as to order myself a replacement that very day. But the universe must want me to be bitter because apparently Sephora decided to ship that bee-yatch via Pony Express and it's never going to get here. 

Not ever.

I am despondent. I cannot even express my grief. I mean, do you know what it's like to hold all that possibility in your hands and have it cruelly snatched by a fiesty co-ed? Do you?

Anyway, that's the state of the union: kindergarten, exotic locations, a thwarted love affair, a new dog, several mimosas, a shocking secret, and horrific betrayal.

Happy New Year!