Somewhere past the Qwik Sak and the bird baths flanked by plastic dobermans, the "Bloomindeals" and the cowboy cut-out yard silhouettes was the destination of our Weekend Girl's Getaway. With nine other friends in tow - some old, some new - we caravanned past miles of podunk Alabama to a cabin on Smith Lake. Loaded down with snacks, games, and blankets we piled into the wood-paneled house, built a fire, watched Gidgett movies (we all fell in love with Moon Doggie), laughed, and ate ourselves silly. It was great. I never left my pajamas or put on make-up. Slept in a frigid basement under five layers of blankets and bumped butts in a double bed with Jessica (that sounds dirty, I realize this). Blew a fuse and spent about an hour trying to figure out where the correct fuse box was (we eventually triumphed). Missed the snow storm that swept through our fair state, but managed to see the news report from Clanton where people were very, very excited about the snow and sent in pictures of the dusting on their cars and rooftops (Northerners would surely think us insane). Met a gigantic white dog named Biscuit who looked like a bear and escorted us on a very chilly walk. Played the best game in the history of the world. All in all, a good weekend.
Now back in Birmingham, I just wrangled my seven-foot Christmas tree into what looks like a bb gun box and hoisted it into it's home in the top of the closet. Bye-bye Christmas (finally), hello empty corner in my dining room. Still in my pajamas at 2:41 pm, and not wanting to brave the 35-degree weather for a much-needed run. But since I had chocolate pie and trail mix for breakfast, I should probably exercise before tomorrow's weigh-in. It's not going to be pretty.