Champagne Friday: Passing Myself Coming and Going

Happy Champagne Friday!

I am especially jubilant today because my schedule just became a little less redonka-freakin-lous. When I returned from Kentucky at the beginning of the month, my calendar looked like this:

Home for a week

Jacksonville for 5 days (babysitting the wee me's)

Home for a week

In Chicago for a week

Home for a week

In Paris for 2 weeks

Home for a week

Hilton Head for a week

Kentucky for 3 weeks

Back to Georgia and for everyone keeping score at home, that brings us to the first of November. 

That is particularly important because, as Neal informed me this week, they have begun their 60-90 day re-deployment briefings/teleconferences with the post that they'll be returning to. This means that we are (in theory anyway...it's the Army, it will change approximately 58473837282 times before he walks through the front door) 60-90 days from FINISHED. 

I think my eyes just rolled back in my head out of sheer happiness. 

Also, it's a little ironic that the one time I decide to blog about our 400-day deployments, the deployment is actually far less than 400 days. 

However...

Dear Universe,

This is NOT me complaining.

Love, 

NOT COMPLAINING 

But in true bff fashion, I was excused from the Chicago trip in an effort to take a little of the stressure (yeah, that's pressure stress) off. God love her because now I'll be in one place until I leave for Paris. And I can actually think clearly again. There is a lot to be said for that. 

To recap the last 3 weeks, though, here it is in pictures. Then I must get my workout on, followed by the tallest glass of bubbles ever...because this week, I sort of deserve it. 

The Queen, Sleeping Booty, and Repunzerella's trip to Kentucky began with a trip to the Louisville Children's Science Museum...where Army Dad taught us about momentum...or motion...or something. Anyway, as long as the wheel is spinning, you can balance it on your hand. (Bonus cool photography points: the wheel is actually spinning in this picture.)

This is the Louisville Slugger Museum, where they make the Slugger baseball bats (and first choice of weapon for many military wives). We didn't actually go in, but something tells me it can't compare to the awesome on the outside of the building.

At the Salato Nature Preserve in Frankfort, we saw the UK wildcat, Blue, up close and personal. And hiked 2 miles in flip flops and linen pants.

GO BIG BLUE! OK...he doesn't look so fierce here, but I assure you, he can take down a Florida gator without thinking twice.

And...of course....we fed the ducks. Because that's what you do. And then you cuss like a redneck sailor when they crap all over your car and deny any responsibility in the whole thing.

Lunch was at Gatti Town, where the pizza is greasy, the drink refills are unlimited and the games are 8746356% more spectacular than they were when I was a WeeAlly in 'Da Fort. Not an air hockey table in sight. But there are motorcycles and bumper cars. Hutch and Shana, get your game faces on...we are SO going back.

I refuse to feel any sort of inferiority complex simply because these bumper cars are bigger than my Prius.

Friday brought horseback riding at The Kentucky Horse Park, which was home to the 2010 Equestrian Games (Horse Olympics, basically. But Lexington rocks extra hard because we hosted the first games ever held outside of Europe. Yep, we know a thing or 2 about horses...or...er...they do).

We didn't get the same memo that Army Dad got. He was ready for a cattle drive. We looked like we were hitting up Abercrombie and Fitch.

Saturday was rum by the pool and s'mores after dinner. Sunday morning, we convoyed back to Georgia so the girls could crash at my place and then finish their drive on Monday morning.

I was home for about 6 days before it was time to head out again to my sister's for babysitting duty. As my sister prepped her library for the first day of school next week, we were frequenting McDonald's, the pool, and the movies. Oh, what movie, you ask?

The Smurfs, of course! According to Neal, the Smurfs are an 80's thing and anyone born around 1968 has an innate aversion to them. My sister and her husband had been putting off Smurfs since opening night. I, on the other hand, had been looking for some small children to accompany me so I didn't look quite so much like Kyle the Pedophile, rolling up into a movie about little blue people. But first...we had to make a McDonald's stop so the 3 of us (yes our total age is 45...your point??) could get Smurf figurines in our Happy Meal.

Yes, that would be Grouchy Smurf, sandwiched between 2 Vanity Smurfs. The fact that I got Vanity Smurf is hysterical to Neal and my mother, as they both hold the belief that I'm incapable of passing a mirror/car window/any shiny, reflective surface without looking at myself in it.

They might be right.

There may have also been a bit of beach time thrown in for good measure.

But now I'm back to work...creating, writing, and of course...reading. Good thing I have a trusty sidekick to remind me of what's really important.

Cheers to you on this beautiful Friday. My pre-pregnancy pants fit again, champagne is on sale at the Class 6, and the cats have their legs hiked up and licking their asses...all is right with the world.