update: I've decided that I'm not looking forward to going down to Riverside. I really hate going there. It's nothing but drama everytime I go. And I can already feel some nasty tension building. I'm ready to go back to San Francisco and I haven't even left. Ugh, Garden State experience is surely underway...

baggage claim

I've just finished packing for my weekend "get away." It's not much of a get away, but another one of my listless trips down south. It seems that lately I have had some trouble with packing. What was once my favorite part of trip preparation, I now dread.

I've packed the essentials: bras, panties, p.j.'s, tolietries--shorts, a few tops, and some dresses, and sandals. I've also packed an option for going out, accessories, heels, jeans. And despite what I see in the mirror, I mustered up the courage to pick a swimsuit and my big floppy hat. When I placed those two items in my bag, I sort of wished that's all I was bringing. I would have loved to fill a carry-on canvas bag with tunics, swimsuits, sunscreen, a dress, the essentials, a floppy hat, my journal and two good books.

It's not news that whats in your bag sort of determines where you are headed. But I think if my bag included the latter (and just that), I'd be in for a much more relaxed weekend. I guess this isn't much about what's in my bag, but my hopes that my weekend is not an on-going party, or 4 days of get togethers. I really hate that. Then I come back just as I left, tense. So here's hoping that by startegically placing the swimsuit, tunic, and floppy hat into my bag, I've won favor with the get away gods and I can enjoy a few days at their altar of nothingness.

...this is bat country

I'm really not loaded with things to say today. Although it seems bleak weather is in my future. I'm sure my desert soiree will still go over well, but without as much sunshine (vitamin C) as I would have liked. I know that I will at least have the chance to play "paparazzi" for two days, go out for a Vogue-like black & white photo shoot and get all of my stress carefully kneaded out of my shoulders!

Now, I'm sure you are wondering about this "paparazzi" thing. Well it's quite fun...I once asked Arty if she had played. To my dismay she said no, but seemed intrigued by it's potential joys. Paparazzi is a game that I and "the peanut gallery" (R &S) like to play. It involves dressing like your favorite celeb, running from the camera's demon flash, holding up your hand to the lens, imitating celeb poses and giving the beloved pouty lip. Yes, I'm probably too old to be doing things like this, but somehow my girlishness (or just down right ridiculouness) take over my body when I'm with "the peanut gallery."

S has managed to pack her entire closet. She gave me the run down last night via AIM: a few pairs of shorts, a few pairs of pants, a skirt, 2 dresses, a couple of tops, 2 swimsuits, a tunic, a juicy suit, scarves, headbands, cosmetics, jewelry, capri cargos, p.j's, panties, 1 sweatshirt, 1 coat, some hats and 6 pairs of shoes. Yes...I thought the same thing. Is she moving to Palm Springs? Whatever the case, it only adds to my exciting tale of our desert adventure. I'm hoping to come back with some great photos of old people and a tacky sweatshirt that I can turn into a haute mess!

I have a plane to catch.

P.S. I LOVE YOU!