Judgmental? Nah.

You know what really chaps my ass?

Bikini bull riding. Every damn time.

Also:

1. When a woman who is dating a divorced man goes on and on about how CRAZY his ex-wife is. Um...he is the idiot who married her! And now you're the one dating him! And if his ex-wife is, in fact, certifiable, then either: a) she was crazy from the get-go, and this guy was too damn stupid to see that...probably because he was thinking with the wrong head; or b) she started out normal, and he is the reason she went nuts. Either way, who's the idiot now??? (You.)

and

2. When a woman who has only been dating a man for a short period of time (like, maybe, less than six months) begins calling his mother on a regular basis. Why would anyone want to do this??? Not only is it completely uncalled-for (no pun intended), but it's also probably going to creep the guy out! True, there may be certain times, like if you're planning a surprise party for your boyfriend, or trying to figure out his shoe size, when it is alright to call his mom. Once. But, under no circumstances is it "okay" to call a man's mother to DISCUSS THE RELATIONSHIP. Do you honestly think she's going to side with you?

And this is why Candy should not go to lunch at Panera by herself. There are too many conversations to overhear. And too many overbearing women.

Workin' on My Fitness

I've been noticing lately that I have a little more junk-in-the-trunk than I would like, so I've decided to take up running. Of course, my definition of "running" is a little different from what most people envision; the other day, for instance, while I was jogging on the trail at what I considered to be a decent speed, a tortoise waved to me as he breezed by. I can generally pass The Walkers, but it takes me a little while.

And I'm in such poor shape right now that, even at my snail-like pace, I still finish my jogs red-faced and sweating profusely. I'm sure the people I pass (who are running in the opposite direction on the trail...otherwise, I wouldn't be passing them, obviously) probably wonder if they should stop and give assistance to the poor girl who appears to be near death. I've certainly gotten a few sympathetic looks.

I've also gotten some strange looks (smirks?) from the younger, iPod-carrying folks, who are probably in awe of the fact that someone is still running with...God forbid...a RADIO. I mean, I might as well be running with a boombox on my shoulder, I'm so out of date. But you know what? I have an iPod. And I still prefer to listen to the radio when I run. I like the element of surprise.

My next goal is to take advantage of the YMCA membership that I've been paying for, for...oh...the last four years, but which I haven't used in at least the last three. I'm one of those terribly lazy people who feels like simply having the gym membership will keep me fit, even if I never set foot in the place. I'm not sure it works that way. I'd really like to work on my arms a little bit, because I'm always jealous of those girls who actually have biceps (small ones, not the body builder kind), and, as someone who can barely lift the weight of my own hand (okay, not really, but I am weak), I figure it couldn't hurt to build a little muscle. I've been doing 12-ounce curls every Friday and Saturday night for years now, but to no avail. My arms remain puny.

Working out isn't something that I'm happy about having to do, but it seems to be a necessary evil, if I'm going to be the size that I want to be and continue to eat the way that I want to eat. Damn calories. If only I didn't love food so much.

Only the Lonely

Today, The Today Show featured a counterpoint to yesterday's "Why I Got Married" story, which I wrote about in my previous post. This morning's topic was "Why I Stayed Single." And I was very disappointed by the way in which it was addressed.

First of all, the story only featured women. What the hell? Were they unable to find any single men to interview? For me, this only reinforced the (extremely outdated) idea that a bachelor-for-life is OKAY (e.g., it needs no explanation), while a perennial bachelorette is an anomaly, which must be studied and rationalized. I'm not impressed.

Second, I was disgusted with the "tone" of the story. Rather than celebrating their life as bachelorettes, these women seemed to be trying to find ways to justify it. They said things like, "I stay very active, so I don't get lonely," or "I have lots of nieces and nephews, so I don't miss having children of my own." Geez, ladies...you're, like, one step away from "who needs a man when you have 47 cats!"

What about the PRO's of being single? Like, for instance, that you don't have to put up with anyone's shit? Or, that you've gotten to experience the euphoria of falling in love again and again, rather than only once? Or, that, at night, if you want to eat Lucky Charms for dinner at 10:00 p.m. while watching Lifetime, then by golly you can, and there's no one asking you why the meat and potatoes weren't on the table at seven?

Or maybe it's just the divorced women who appreciate these things. Maybe the single women don't actually realize how good they really have it.

Oh, and by the way: According to yesterday's story, I have now passed the average age at which women get married for the first time. (It's 25.3, and I'm 25.91667, to be somewhat exact.) I consider this to be an accomplishment paramount to my earning a law degree. And if I make it to 27 without getting hitched (which is pretty much a given), then I will have reached the age at which the divorce rate plummets! (At least for first marriages.) Woo-hoo!

Here's the story:

'Til Death Do You Part

There was an interesting story on The Today Show this morning, about why people get married. I found it particularly interesting, not because I'm considering getting married any time soon (God no), but because one of the things that was said was exactly what Philly has been telling me for a long time. Which is: A woman gets married because she finds "Her Guy," and she wants to have a secure connection to him. A man gets married because he gets to a certain point in his life when he decides that he no longer wants to be single, and at that point he goes out and finds a wife.

So basically, for a woman it's about Finding Mr. Right, and for a man it's about Timing. How nice.

I guess this is why Philly (repeatedly) emphasizes to me how important it is to avoid the men who are simply on a Wife Search, because, hell, they'll marry practically anybody. It's much better, she says, to meet someone who doesn't necessarily want to fall in love (and/or get married) at that particular point in his life, but who falls for you nevertheless.

Anyhoo, if you find this topic as interesting as I do (i.e., if you have boobs and the ability to bear children), here's the story:

Search Party

As I was leaving the orthodontist's office today, I noticed that there were four police officers and two men in shirts and ties, rifling through the dumpster outside the office. Oh God, I thought, I hope they're not looking for a body. Naturally, I decided to stay and watch.

But whatever they were looking for, I guess they didn't find it, because after a few more minutes, they called off the search.

Come to think of it, they were probably just looking for a lost retainer.

A Pleasant Surprise

Ever since Mimi's Cafe opened in Turkey Creek a couple of years ago, I've been judging it.

Mind you, I hadn't ever actually eaten there, but based on its appearance and name, I was pretty sure I didn't want to. To emphasize: Mimi's was the proverbial book, and I was judging it by its cover.

But then, last night, Philly and I were out at Turkey Creek shopping, and we couldn't decide where to eat dinner. Abuelo's? Nah. Table 15? Nah. How 'bout Mimi's? We've never been there before. So, reluctantly, we decided to give it a try.

But not until we made sure that they serve alcohol. From the looks of the place, we were expecting something along the lines of a Cracker Barrel, so we were somewhat doubtful that they'd have beer. (They do. They also have wine and liquor.)

Mimi's turned out to be a very pleasant surprise. And it was nothing like Cracker Barrel. (Not that there's anything wrong with Cracker Barrel! In fact, that's one of the places that I'm planning on taking Cal when he comes to visit. But we'll go for breakfast, of course.) The food was delicious, the service was good...all in all, we had a great meal. It even inspired Philly to make the following statements:

I feel sorry for everyone else in this restaurant. [Why?] Because they're not eating this salad.

That's a damn good salad.

As we left Mimi's, having gorged ourselves like two little piggies, Philly and I agreed: We should never have judged that book by its cover!

Mars and Venus

Tonight, Cal and I discussed (over the phone, of course) whether it's men, or women, who have The Better Life.

Candy: Men have it so much better. They can go to the gym during their lunch break, take a quick shower, and be back at the office in less than an hour. If I were to go to the gym during lunch, it would take me a whole 'nother hour to shower and get ready again! Being a woman sucks!

Cal: No, no, women have it so good. And I'll tell you why. Two words.

Candy: Okay, why?

Cal: Multiple Orgasms.

Candy: Oh...THAT. I thought you were gonna say Diamond Ring.

Yet another example of the vast difference between the two genders.

Good Game, Boys

I didn't attend the game yesterday, and instead spent the day doing an Impromptu Pub Crawl with Philly. We started our I.P.C. on The Strip, watching each quarter of the game at a different bar, and then worked our way west, stopping at Sidestreet Tavern, Toddy's, and Ray's, among other places.

I'd venture to say we had more fun than the poor suckers at the stadium.

After Florida scored for the third time in the first ten minutes, I made this (using a name tag I had gotten at a seminar the day before):



If the reaction that I got is any indication, then I think this encompasses a pretty widely held sentiment. We're just sick-to-death of being out-coached!

So...here's hoping that we finish the season with a 1-11 record!

Jerks

As I arrived at Bailey's last night (for poker), I noticed that the car I had parked beside was displaying two Florida Gators flags and a Florida bumper sticker.

'Round here, them's fightin' words.

I quickly put my car in reverse and pulled into another space. I didn't want to be too close, ya know, in case the shit hit the fan.

Also at poker last night, I ran into one of my ex's. The following conversation ensued:

Ex: Wow, you look great. We should go have a drink sometime. Or maybe we could watch a movie at your place later....

Candy: OR, you could go home to your pregnant girlfriend!

Sigh. I like to think my taste in men has improved since him.

Anticipating a Good Weekend

This weekend, UT plays Florida at home. We are not expected to win.

However, if this Saturday's gameday festivities turn out to be anything like the last time we played (and lost to) Florida at home, then you can expect to see more pictures like this:





Don't ask me whose hat I was wearing; I don't know. It's obviously not That Guy's since he's wearing one. Also, I have no idea what he was doing with his hands. Or, why I'm making that face. We appear to be on the dance floor, and that's all I know.

Clearly, some alcohol had been consumed that day.

It's Complicated

When it comes to my love life, there are certain things that I've always said I would never do. One of those things is Using an Online Dating Service. It's not that there's anything wrong with online dating, per se, it's just that I don't think it's for me. See, I like the whole "chase" aspect of starting a relationship, and it seems like it would be rather difficult to play hard to get, when the dude knows damn well that you signed up for the service, too.

Another one of those things is Having a Long-Distance Relationship. What's the point, I've always wondered. For me, most of the fun of being in a relationship is having someone to go places with, and when you're dating someone who lives far away, you kind of lose that benefit. It's like all work and no play. (Which makes Candy a dull girl.)

And lookie here. I went to Vegas for a relaxing vacation (okay, maybe "relaxing" is not the word for it), and what did I do, but come back "dating" someone who lives on the other side of the universe. I mean, country. I am so good at following my own rules. (Not.)

Have I lost my mind? Is there any chance that this could ever work out? Cal in Knoxville? Candy in LA? It's pretty much absurd.

Nevertheless, I have to admit that I'm looking forward to him coming to visit next month, more than I've looked forward to anything in a long time. Which means that it could go either way. Stay tuned.

Regardless of how things turn out, though, I am still so, so glad that I went to California with Cal. Shouldn't everyone get to experience, at least once in their lifetime, the high of a romance that is inevitably doomed? Otherwise, how would Stella ever have gotten her groove back?

Fairweather Friend

After the debacle that was last week's football game between Tennessee and UCLA, I have decided to boycott the Vols this week.

And by "boycott," I mean that I am refusing to watch tomorrow's game...either at the stadium or on TV. Instead, I'll be at the pool, trying to sneak in a few more hours of tanning before the summer ends, at least, calendar-wise. After all, being tan is my number one goal in life (family, schmamily), and I've been very disappointed with my progress this year. (It doesn't help matters that my new squeeze is Hispanic, which, in pictures, makes me look even more pale than I actually am. Sigh.)

However, this boycott is not affecting my usual Friday-Before-Game-Day activities, which include: 1) the traditional Wearing-of-the-Orange-to-Work (and thank goodness I did, because one of the Padnahs has already stopped by my office to check my attire); and 2) Happy Hour (which usually lasts until the bars close).

So you see, all is not lost.

Anyhoo, to the more devoted Vols fans: Have fun watching the game tomorrow. In the heat. I'll be staying cool at the pool.

And Now...The Rest of the Story.

Okay, so it's Friday morning (September 5), and Cal is on his way back to Vegas to pick me up. Ron and Philly are long gone, already on their flight home, and I'm stumbling around the hotel room (quite possibly still drunk from Thursday), trying to get all of my stuff packed. I'm also trying to make myself look like I didn't drink enough alcohol to kill a small horse the night before. Cal arrives right on time (gotta love that), and after stopping at In-N-Out Burger for lunch on the way out of town, we head toward Southern California.

When we get to the state line, Cal tells me that there's a crazy roller coaster there, and he asks if I want to stop and ride it. Um, only if you want to see everything I drank last night.... (Any other time, I would have been all about it!)

Once we're in California, he does talk me into stopping at Calico Ghost Town, and now that I'm looking at the website, I realize that we could have gotten married right then and there! Western-style! Damn.

It's an awfully hot day out here in the desert, but we walk around for a little while (me with my hangover and trusty Gatorade), looking at how things used to be:


And Cal takes a lot of random pictures. Case in point:

I won't include all of the pictures from the weekend, though, because we'd be here all day. Anyhoo...

We arrive at Cal's parents' house in Chino Hills at about 4:00 to pick up the RV. Of course, when Cal had first told me that we'd be camping all weekend, I was picturing a tent in the middle of nowhere, with a little campfire and some hotdogs on a stick. And that didn't seem like the best idea to me. (Not the tent-and-campfire part, but the middle-of-nowhere part.)

But, when he informed that we'd actually be staying in his family's motor home in an RV park, I was like, now we're talkin'! I'd actually never stayed in an RV before, but I had always wanted to! Here I am riding in the RV on the way to Temecula:

I look awfully happy, huh.

Aside: Even though it was about 7:00 p.m. when we arrived at the campsite and checked in, I'll go ahead and show you a picture I took the next morning, so you can see how nice this RV park was. The place was immaculate, and it had a beautiful backdrop:

Okay, back to Friday night. After Cal gets everything hooked up, RV-wise (meanwhile, I'm holding a beer in one hand and a flashlight in the other...always happy to help), he pulls out a chair for me and then starts cooking dinner. The whole time I'm thinking, this is the LIFE! I mean, check it out, I'm sitting in an outdoor recliner, while a guy I met less than a week ago is cooking dinner for me:

And here's Cal, doing all the work at the grill. Tee hee hee:


After we finish eating dinner (steaks, potatoes, asparagus...not exactly hotdogs on sticks!), we agree that it's time for some sake, which we drink while we're sitting outside (me in the recliner, of course), watching Superbad. Could it get any better? (No.)

Here's one last picture from Friday night, taken shortly before we went inside and went to bed, and, as you can tell (or at least, as I can tell), I've definitely been enjoying the sake. And the beer. And the champagne. Candy looks a little tipsy:

Skipping ahead to Saturday....

Cal gets up and cooks breakfast (eggs, bacon, potatoes, coffee, mimosas...I mean, where has this guy been all my life), and then we hang out at the campsite for a little while, waiting for his mom ("Madre") and aunt ("Tia") to arrive, to go wine-tasting with us.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that another reason I felt pretty safe about staying with Cal for the weekend was that he had told me that his parents would probably come with us to the wineries on Saturday. When I heard that, I was like, that's one less check in the Serial Killer column and one more under Nice Guy!

Unfortunately, his dad ends up having to work on Saturday, so Madre brings her sister Tia instead. I do get to meet his dad ("Padre") on Sunday before I leave, though.

I know most people think of Northern California when they think of wine-tasting, but there are actually wineries in several areas of the state, like Temecula (where we are, in Southwest California) and Santa Barbara (think Sideways). We taste wines at three different wineries (Maurice Car'rie, La Cereza, and Mount Palomar), before we end the afternoon with a picnic of fresh sourdough bread (with brie baked inside), cheese, crackers, apples, grapes, and, of course, more wine! It is truly a perfect afternoon.

Here's me, with Madre and Tia, at one of the wineries:


Incidentally, I would never have thought of this on my own, but apparently wine-tasting is a really popular activity for bachelorette parties! We saw at least a couple different brides-to-be with their girlfriends. And, with about twenty wineries in Temecula, you could certainly get a little buzz (okay, a BIG buzz) by the end of the day!

After our picnic, we head back to the RV park, where we continue sipping wine (okay, gulping it), while we watch the Angels-White Sox game. (When Cal, Madre, and Tia find out that I'm a Braves fan, they actually have the nerve to make fun of the Tomahawk Chop!) Cal cooks dinner again (a chicken dish, served over rice), and I'm just hangin' out with Madre and Tia, talking about politics and such. After spending the day with these two, I totally want to move to California just so I can hang out with them all the time. Forget Cal.

After they leave, Cal and I sit around outside, listening to music and drinking more sake (have I mentioned how much I love sake?). Naturally, the topic of Whether We Will Ever See Each Other Again comes up. I tell him that, even though I would like to see him again (of course I would!), I have no idea if it will actually happen, but that, regardless, I'm so, so glad that I came to California for the weekend. And he responds, "Well, I'll actually be hurt if we never see each other again."

Geez, Cal. Why don't you tug at my heartstrings a little more? I'm trying to be cool here.

Needless to say, I'm a little sad when I wake up on Sunday, knowing that I only have a few hours before I have to be at the airport. We drive back to Cal's parents' house, drop off the RV, and head to LAX. As you can see, I'm not smiling quite as big when Cal drops me off, as I have been during the rest of the trip:



And that was my weekend in Cali with Cal!

What Happens in Vegas

...apparently results in an impromptu trip to California. Tee hee hee. (I'll get to that part later.) But first...

Things that Happened in Las Vegas (on the first night):

1. Ate a delicious dinner with Ron and Philly, then walked up and down The Strip with Philly for awhile.

Eating dinner at the Oyster Bar in Harrah's:

That was actually a really, really good meal.

2. Went to Carnaval Court (at Harrah's) and sat down at the bar. Alone.

3. Met two guys from LA. (For blogging purposes, we'll call them "Cal" and "Ricardo." Oh, and they're cousins. Tan cousins.) As soon as Cal heard that I was on vacation with my parents (or, for all intents and purposes, once he heard that I was alone), he reached over, pulled my bar stool right up next to his, and said, "Well, then, you're with us tonight!"

4. Drank about three too many shooters with Cal and Ricardo.

After shooters:

(At this point, I've obviously moved to sit between Cal and Ricardo. I'm such a wallflower.)

5. Went to the restroom, and in the process of checking my phone for missed calls from Ron or Philly (was trying to be considerate!), must have set it down somewhere and walked off without it.

6. Spent 45 minutes trying to find my damn phone. Called it and realized that it had been turned off, which I took as a bad sign.

7. Had my phone returned to me, by the restroom attendant. I won't tell you where she found it. (Okay, I will. She found it in that tiny trash can next to toilet. The one where you throw tampon applicators and pads. Which, obviously, was not where I left it. Needless to say, I immediately had to wipe it down with disinfectant. Yum-o!) But, seriously. If you've ever lost your phone, then you know how happy I was to see that little fucker.

8. Found Cal and Ricardo again. Took another shot.

9. Came thisclose to going to a drive-thru wedding chapel and marrying Cal, just so I'd have a good story to tell when I got home.

10. Gave my phone number to Cal, having no expectation of ever seeing him again, since he was leaving to go home the next morning. Said goodbye (or, "adios," for the tan folks).

11. Ran into Philly at 4:00 a.m. in the casino and decided to go have breakfast.

12. Stumbled back to the room and went to bed around 5:00.

Yeah, that was the first night.

The Other Four Days/Nights:

The next day, I must have been hung over or something, because I made the brilliant decision to bet forty bucks on the Vols in the Tennessee/UCLA game. I feel confident that, had my mind been less cloudy, I would never have bet on the Vols actually winning their first game of the year, against a lower ranked team. I would have bet against them. I also lost about fifty dollars betting on horse races, but hell, at least that was fun.

At some point, the game became too painful to watch, so Philly and I decided to head to one of the off-Strip "local" casinos, where we would actually be able to afford gambling in the evening. But, lo and behold, about two minutes into our cab ride, I received a text message from Cal that said: We decided to stay another night, LOL, and we'll be at Harrah's. (Keep in mind that Harrah's was where I was staying.) Despite the cheesiness of the "LOL" usage (what are we, twelve?), I decided that I couldn't turn down another fun night of drinking with Cal and Ricardo. So, I shouted to the taxi driver, "Turn this thing around!" (or maybe I just said it in a normal voice), and we headed back to Harrah's.

That second night was fun, albeit a lot calmer than the night before. Cal had to be at work in LA the next morning, so he and Ricardo were going to be leaving Las Vegas (like Sheryl Crow!) at the crack of dawn. Once again, I said goodbye (adios!) for the last time.

Or so I thought....

On Tuesday, Ron and Philly and I spent the afternoon and evening on Fremont Street. Incidentally, if you're ever in that area, and you want a decent meal with a good beer, I recommend the Triple 7 Restaurant and Brewery, inside the Main Street Station Casino. Ron and I were pleased with the Pale Ale and the Porter, and Philly loved her Coors Light. Best she'd ever had, she said. :)

And if you want to go to a club on Fremont Street, I recommend this one, at the Golden Nugget:

But only because I love the name!

Here I am on the balcony at Gold Diggers, with Fremont Street in the background:

You can't see in the picture, but there was a live band playing down on the street. Good times!

That night, once we'd gotten back to Harrah's, I got another interesting text message from Cal. This one said: Call me when you get a chance, I have an idea. Well, after that, I had to call, right? And this was his idea: If I could change my flight home, so that instead of flying out of Las Vegas on Friday morning with Ron and Philly, I would fly out of Los Angeles on Sunday afternoon, then he and I could spend the weekend together, camping in So Cal and going to wineries on Saturday.

Hmmm...camping in California with a guy I'd hung out with twice? Sounds like the beginning of an episode of Unsolved Mysteries or something. Naturally, I was intrigued. I told him I'd think about it and get back to him.

I spent the next day (Wednesday) at the pool, which was the only part about Harrah's that I didn't like. To make matters worse, it was about a thousand degrees outside, so hot that the glue on the book I was reading literally melted, and all of the pages fell out. Niiiiice. When I couldn't take the heat anymore (the pool wasn't even refreshing, it was so hot), I headed for the pool bar (which was in the shade, with mist) and made friends with the bartender. It's amazing how many interesting conversations you can have when you're by yourself.

That night I ended up at Casino Royale, which is located right next door to Harrah's. I actually ended up at Casino Royale a lot during this trip, mainly because it was the only nearby bar where I could get a beer for a dollar, or a rum and Coke for $2.50. If you've ever bought drinks in Vegas, then you know that that is CHEAP. (It's not unusual to pay seven bucks for a Bud Light.) Of course, you can always gamble and get drinks for free, but hell, for a dollar, I'll walk to the bar myself and get a beer that's actually cold.

That's Casino Royale in the background:

Las Vegas is SO the adult Disneyland!

Also on Wednesday night, I called Delta and changed my flight. I'd thought about Cal's plans all day and decided I couldn't turn them down. I mean, how many times in my life am I going to get invited to go camping and wine-tasting in California??? I had to go.

However, the pragmatic part of me was still skeptical. Cal had called to tell me that he'd pick me up at Harrah's at 11:00 a.m. on Friday morning (and then we'd drive back to LA), but to be honest, I only half-thought he'd actually show up.

Thursday was our last day in Vegas, and because I was determined to come home a little more tan than I was when I left, I once again tried to endure a day at the pool. And, when I once again couldn't stand the heat any longer, I retreated to the pool bar and hung out with my bartender buddy Dave, before heading back to the room to get ready for our last evening.

Ron, Philly, and I played in a poker tournament that night at 7:00, and when we all lost (almost at the same time, oddly enough), we walked over to the Caesars Forum Shops and had dinner at a restaurant called Trevi.

At Trevi:

At this point, I was still sober...but not for long.

After dinner, things started to get a little crazy.

We walked back over to Harrah's, and, while Ron and Philly headed off to gamble, I went to the dueling pianos bar, where I figured that, if I was going to drink by myself, at least I could be entertained. Of course, I wasn't alone for long. And I didn't mean to get so drunk that night, but it happened. The first people to come along were a couple of guys from Hawaii, who, for some reason, had decided to take shots of Goldschlager. And when I say "shots," I'm talking about a good 4-5 ounces of liquor. Straight. After drinking a couple of those (and chasing them with a Sex on the Beach...real smart, Candy), I felt like I was back in college again.

After I got tired of the Goldschlager Guys (too possessive), I met another group of dudes, who, I swear to God, were straight out of a Mafia movie. Think teeny-tiny black mustaches and black suits. Nevertheless, one of them turned out to be a good dance partner, and from what I can remember, I had a really fun time. At some point we walked over to a bar at Caesars (as if I needed anything else to drink), and it was definitely 4:00 a.m. by the time I walked (stumbled) back to my room.

Which meant that I was still tipsy when I got up the next morning (after Ron and Philly had already left for the airport) and had to start getting ready to meet back up with Cal.

And he did show up. :)

News from Vegas

Okay, I know I said I wouldn't post until I got back to Knoxville, but I had to check in to let y'all know that I won't be back this weekend...at least not until late Sunday night.

I've changed my plans a little.

Instead of flying back with Ron and Philly on Friday morning, I'll be spending the weekend in southern California...with a guy. And flying back on Sunday. Let's just say that, so far, this has been the best trip EVER!

Could this be the start of a long-distance relationship? It's too soon to tell.

More later!!!!!!!!