When Pigs Fly

The last vacation the mister and I went on was August 2003. People? Do the math. That’s over five years ago. FIVE FUCKING YEARS AGO.  In that time we’ve a) purchased a house b) got a masters degree c) had a baby d) sold the house e) moved to portland f) moved to Seattle g) had another baby h) started a business.

My god, people, who out of anyone that you know, needs a vacation more than we do? Don’t answer that. This is about me, after all.

So now we’re finally going to Las Vegas for a conference and we’ll be staying an extra two days to play. TWO WHOLE DAYS. We’ll be gone a total of five days without children. :: brain explodes :: I’m not sure I know what to do with that information. FIVE DAYS. NO KIDS. :: kaplow ::

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So am I at all surprised by this SWINE FLU news? No. No I’m not. And I’ll tell you why, we’ll vacation again when pigs fly.

And apparently, that time is now.

Seriously, people, LOOK AT US! We’re so young. We’re so innocent. We have no idea this will be the LAST FUN THING WE DO FOR FIVE YEARS

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And we thought dogs were hard? This guy made it up the mountin without complaining ONCE that his feet hurt, or that he was hungry, or that he was bored.
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Awe… and I thought I was fat back then. That was before my belly was sliced. TWICE.
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Coming Up