Today I hit the road to San Diego with my best friend. We've known each other since we were 15, but we've never done a chick road trip. (Not counting high school where too many of us, hyped on too much sugar, were crammed into minivans for weekend camping field trips. How our counselor managed not to kill every single one of us, I'll never know.) I almost skipped BlogHer this year; thought about just blowing off the whole thing and staying home. But when it came down to it I had everything reserved and ready to go and I asked her if she'd like to get the hell out of dodge. It's been kind of a rough year all around, you know? She said yes, and I've been giddy over the girl bonding time since then. I've had several knots of anxiety - over a couple of things - sitting in my gut of late and hopefully this is the beginning of their unraveling. Or maybe just a slight easing. One of those knots is reserved solely for my best friend. I wanted to name that particular knot "Hank", but I figure it's only fair if my friend gets a say in the naming. She's been diagnosed with an auto-immune disorder and has just started chemo. Seems like a pretty good time for an adventure, doesn't it? And we'll have plenty of time to name our anxiety knots in the car, pick up Brad Pitt, yell out Towanda, and do all that typical chick bonding shit.
Oh, but just in case you see either one of us running around crazy in the desert, apparently high on peyote or other assorted drugs... that's medical peyote, thank you very much. - wg