Scrapped

Well so much for my carefully planned weekend. Somebody on the PBS side forgot to follow through on details for Saturday's road trip, so I will not be riding to the mountains. The real let down here is that I passed on the possibility of driving to Santa Cruz with Mom and Grandma, because of the commitment I had already made. Argghh. This morning they are with Bill and Alison; maybe having breakfast at the Red Apple, certainly having a good time. Without me. Yesterday they had lunch in Carmel, toured around Cannery Row. By tomorrow they will be cruising through the Redwoods. Sigh.

I spent my day sort of being productive, sort of not. I bought groceries. I cleared a cabinet. I called a repair person, but they haven't returned my call. Is this dull? Yea. I know. Today I plan to mail a gift, clean the glaringly visible accumulation of neglected stuff, and feed children. Oh, and get gas. Not me. The car.

As for tomorrow, I will not be whisked off in a convertible to destinations new and alluring, nor sipping chilled wine in some quaint countryside inn. I do have a back up plan: bra shopping! Yes, even after swearing off malls only 2 months ago, I am obliged to return to the land of glitz and consumption. I won't disparage myself by describing the state of my gray and frayed bras from the last millennia. I will not keep you abreast; tomorrow's titillating details will be kept between me and a three way mirror. And yes, the puns were intended.

Perhaps this is the time to update everyone on the progress of my New Year's resolution, but I think we've had enough excitement for one morning. Email me. I am here. I'm thinking of hosting a Pity Party.