I’m gone for the weekend. Yesterday was my friend Rory’s birthday, and we decided to take a weekend and run away. So we left yesterday morning and won’t be home until tomorrow eveing. I’m really having a great time. We’ve eaten in some great restaurants — and I somehow have left my guilt at home– gotten cupcakes from a bakery that was featured on cupcake wars, and spent last evening wine tasting.
We bought gifts for our kids, and coloring books for ourselves, and sat outside on a bench downtown, coloring and talking for a while. Then we bought a few bottles of wine (and chocolate) and spent the night in the adults only jacuzzi drinking wine. We had some great conversation with a group of older ladies visiting for a girls weekend.
It’s funny, I don’t feel like I am being fake, or acting like miss perfect. I feel like me. That’s it. Just me. It’s been, this weekend, the running away, it’s been good. It’s been healing and good. But I’m glad I have almost 2 more full days. Because I’m not ready to go back.