You know what happens when you don’t write for a few days and decide to do reruns like you’re “Sanford and Son” or “Joanie Loves Chachi”?

The portion of your brain that generates mediocrity on a daily basis shrivels up to the size of nothing, rendering you completely incapable of composing even your usual brand of okay.

So you will sit and watch women’s gymnastics for hours while trying to come up with something of interest to share and become completely distracted by all the various hair clippies that gymnasts use to hold their hair back. Why all the different colors? Why is there not more hair accessory coordination?

I think I may have just realized why I was never a serious athlete.

Anyway, last week Gulley and I took the kids on a little road trip to Bryan/College Station, but without the College Station part. We had every intention of visiting the A&M campus in our continuing quest to ensure that we are sufficiently brainwashing our children to become members of the Fightin’ Texas Aggie classes of ‘24, ‘25, and ‘27, but there were too many obstacles in our way.

We were initially a little concerned about making the trip because we were heading right in the path of Tropical Storm Edouard. There were predictions of torrential rain and fifty-five mile an hour winds that turned out to be a light mist and a slight breeze.

Oh meteorologists. You kill me with your enthusiasm and predictions of Armageddon.

Fortunately for us, but not for the credibility of any meteorologist in Texas, Edouard turned out to be a big fat nothing.

We arrived at Gulley’s mama’s house just in time for dinner on Tuesday night. She had made us a home cooked dinner of barbecued brisket, baked beans, and twice-baked potatoes. I wanted to cry from all the happiness. There is nothing in the world I like more than a good home cooked meal that I didn’t have to cook.

Caroline had a cough that started on her birthday and, by the time we got to Bryan, it had turned into a full-blown cold. She had a low-grade fever and just didn’t feel that great, plus Jackson was getting over strep. Basically, our energetic bunch was content to hang out at the house and play with Gulley’s mama’s new puppy.

So that’s what we did.

And, actually, it was really nice.

We headed back home on Thursday and accomplished something heretofore unattainable. We made the entire three hour drive without making one stop.

Do you hear what I’m saying? Three hours. Three kids ages six and under. No stops.

Gulley and I both later admitted that each of us had to go to the bathroom about twenty minutes into the trip, but there was no way one of us was going to be the reason we had to stop.

Neither of us could endure that kind of shame.

The failure would have caused us to feel like a meteorologist.

Gulley and I have taken the kids on a little road trip this week, so I’m going to rerun some of my personal favorites. I’ll be back next Monday. Y’all have a good week.

Oh, and I’ll also have a few new posts up on Allaccess if you want to head over there.

**This post was originally published November 29, 2007**

On Tuesday, Caroline and I met Mimi and Bops at Luby’s for lunch. We always meet at Luby’s because Bops is a big fan of the cafeteria in spite of that fact that he isn’t 85 and has all his teeth. Caroline loves Luby’s because she can get Jello which for her is one of the major food groups.

York Peppermint Patties for breakfast and Jello for lunch. We are an organic household.

Except I will tell y’all that the other day, when we were at HEB, I asked her if she wanted to get a donut and she said, “No thank you, I’d rather have a carrot.” So we’re having her DNA tested later in the week.

While we were at Luby’s, Mimi pulls something out of her purse and hands it to me. It’s a page from the Neiman Marcus Christmas Book. And look what it features.

Is it just me or does that look a whole lot like this?

That’s what I thought.

And this isn’t just any jacket being sold at Neimans. It is a Juicy Couture jacket designed exclusively for Neimans and is featured as one of their HOT 100 GIFTS in this year’s book.

It retails for $400.00.

SHUT UP.

The Neiman Marcus Christmas Book is like hallowed retail ground. It actually featured his and her jets one year. And between you and me, P and I weren’t that impressed with them after they were delivered.

So, of course I had to call Nena and let her know. I called her around 1:00 p.m. yesterday because if I called any earlier than that there’s a high probability that Granddaddy would have answered the phone saying “SEVENTY-SIX DEGREES!” and then hung up on me when he realized it wasn’t someone from the local news station calling as part of their daily contest to see who just watched the weather report.

When she picked up the phone we exchanged the normal pleasantries and then I said, “Nena, I got the Neiman’s Christmas Book in the mail today.”

“OOOH HONEY, YOU DID? GOOD FOR YOU!” (Do y’all see why a version of her jacket being in THE BOOK is going to blow her mind? She was just thrilled I got THE BOOK in the mail.)

“Yes, I got it and you won’t believe this but they have a silver sequined jacket that looks almost just like the one you showed me. It’s one of their HOT 100 items and it costs $400.00.”

“FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS? HONEY, LISTEN, I paid $5.00 for mine. I can’t believe it’s in the Neiman’s Book. I JUST CAN’T BELIEVE IT! OOOH you have MADE MY DAY!”

“I know. You could probably sell yours and make some money.

“OH HONEY, LISTEN, I am not going to sell my jacket. I’m going to wear it shopping! So most importantly, what is the model in the picture wearing with her jacket? I just need to know what to wear with it.”

“She has on black jeans.”

“BLACK JEANS? Well HONEY, LISTEN, I don’t know about BLACK JEANS.”

Which I actually think is a good call by Nena. BLACK JEANS are precarious fashion territory.

Neiman’s might want to listen to her because she is obviously ahead of the fashion curve.

Not to mention she saved $395.00 by finding that jacket in the back of her closet.

I slept until noon yesterday.

And I am not going to lie, it was glorious.

The weekend was so incredible, but it started at 3:30 a.m. Friday morning and didn’t end until I walked through my back door last night at midnight. And then I was so excited to tell P all about it that we stayed up until after 1:00 a.m.

God bless him for getting up with Caroline and taking her to church yesterday morning. He is a gem.

On Friday morning at 5:00 a.m. my dad picked me up to drive me to the airport. My flight didn’t leave until 6:30, but he wanted to pick me up a little early so he’d have time to go home and work out on his elliptical machine before he went in to the office.

The early morning workout gene seems to have skipped a generation.

However, I was never so glad to be somewhere early because when I arrived at the airport, it was totally packed. In fact, it was the longest security line I have ever waited in. I’ve never seen anything like it.

It was like discovering a whole new world that I never knew existed, like people who don’t enjoy cold Diet Coke over ice or chocolate. Weird and unusual. Who are all these early risers and where are they going at 5:00 a.m.?

And then, as I was waiting in the line at Starbucks to see if they offered caffeine with any sort of I.V. delivery system, I overheard a couple in front of me talking and the wife was trying to explain to her husband who Faith Hill and Tim McGraw were and it was taking quite a bit of effort because she wasn’t really sure who they were but thought that they “might do some singing on stage together”.

Lord have mercy.

This is why I don’t need to be around people who wake up at 5:00 a.m. Clearly, we are from two different planets. How do you not know who Faith and Tim are? Even if you don’t listen to country music?

I’m sure it’s because this couple is very sophisticated and well-traveled and would never try to beg a security guard to let them go through security with their flip-flops on because they forgot their fungus-preventing security socks (I haven’t actually trademarked that name, but I will eventually) and have phobias about their bare feet touching the place where thousands of other bare feet have walked.

Anyway, I arrived safe in Atlanta where the lovely Annie not only picked me up from the airport but took me to eat breakfast at The Flying Biscuit. Eating that biscuit was the first time I saw the face of God this weekend, but it wouldn’t be the last.

Annie dropped me off at The Omni. I checked in and got in the elevators to head up to my room, but I punched the bottom on the elevator and nothing happened.

Punch again.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

I stood there for five minutes in a non-moving elevator until I realized you had to insert your room key to get the elevator to take you to your floor. They don’t have that at the La Quinta.

Sophie arrived around 1:00 and we went down to the arena to watch sound check. We had no idea what exactly that entailed, but Travis had told us we could come down to sound check and it was either that or watch some old episodes of “Sanford and Son” in our room, so we chose sound check.

As soon as we walked in we saw Amanda and Janelle. It was so great to finally meet them in person. I also got to meet Travis’s sweet wife, Angela, for the first time which was so fun after hearing so much about her.

We all stood around and visited for a few minutes because they were all very busy doing official sound checking things, and then Beth Moore came walking up to us. I could have died.

I got to meet Beth, we hugged and I was pretty much speechless because I knew if I said anything I might go straight into the ugly cry. I think I may have said something like “You have no idea”, which is really so profound and eloquent.

I am quite the wordsmith.

I’m also pretty sure I introduced myself as “Big”.

Nice.

Everyone had places to be and things to do, so Sophie and I went back up to the room to catch some “Sanford and Son” and possibly a nap. That’s the benefit of not having any real talent, you’re able to just hang out in hotel rooms and watch Aunt Esther and Lamont. “Hey Dummy, here comes 5,000 volts of ugly”.

Finally, it was time to wade into the sea of 19,000 women to get into the arena. I have never seen anything like it.

We finally arrived at our seats and a little while later Travis and the Praise Team started singing. And that’s pretty much when I started crying.

I was just completely overwhelmed by the presence of God. Not to mention that I was sitting directly behind Beth, Kay Arthur and Priscilla Shirer. It was honestly one of the most surreal moments of my life.

And I just kept thinking, “God, how did I get here?”

But there was no where else I would have rather been.

I’ll tell y’all more tomorrow, because, seriously, could this be any longer?

That’s a rhetorical question, by the way.

I haven’t brought up the fact that the day after Thanksgiving I woke up with a delightful urinary tract infection. I realize this may be crossing the line of too much information, however, it is relevant to the story. If it weren’t, I can assure y’all that I would never just share random information about my bladder. Because EWWW.

Anyway, Caroline did indeed spend the night of The Holiday of the Turkey with Mimi and Bops. I cannot tell y’all how excited I was to sleep in late on Friday morning and, really, if you have kids you know exactly how excited I was. However, I made two crucial errors that cost me my valuable morning of sleeping in.

1. I forgot to put the bark collar on our dog Scout. If Scout doesn’t have his bark collar on at night then he feels the need to bark at very ominous, scary things such as a leaf falling from a tree. I was rudely awakened about 4 a.m. by Scout barking wildly to let us know that somewhere a blade of grass just blew in the wind.

2. I ate too much chocolate and various spicy foods and decided to not drink any water all day long. After all, drinking water might cause me to not eat as much and that’s just un-American.

Thus, I awoke at 6 a.m. and recognized the beginnings of a urinary tract infection.

And oh, they are delightful.

Also, I don’t know that I’ve ever mentioned this because, again, TOO MUCH INFORMATION, but on a normal day I go to the bathroom about 87 times. And that’s not counting the three consecutive times I go right before bed every night. I’m a compulsive potty-er.

Anyway, our plan for Friday was to head to our friend AJ’s ranch and hang out with her family. We were so excited about it and I decided that we needed to forge ahead with our plans in spite of my compromised bladder. So in between trips to the bathroom, I got us packed. We loaded the cars and headed south on I-35.

And I say loaded the cars because we took two cars. P was going to another friend’s ranch on Saturday but Caroline and I were going to come home, therefore we needed two cars. I gave Caroline the choice of who she wanted to ride with and her only concern was who was going to be in front. She chose P because he would be the leader and in her mind, the clear winner.

And she may have looked me right in the eye and growled, “Daddy and I are going to BEAT YOU.”

I hope I’m not raising Tonya Harding.

I knew I needed to go to the bathroom before we had even reached downtown San Antonio but I tried desperately to keep my mind on other things. Finally, I called P and told him I’d need to stop. We pulled over at a gas station and Caroline decided she also needed to go.

After waiting in line for 10 or 48 minutes, it was finally our turn. Only Caroline didn’t need to go after all. She just likes to check out various gas station restrooms and report on their smell.

Which isn’t at all odd.

We got back on the road for about 3 minutes when, all of a sudden, P pulled over on the shoulder. He looked under his truck and I could read his lips as he said what appeared to be DANG and SHOOT or maybe it was something else. And I haven’t mentioned that behind his truck he was hauling a trailer with his Polaris 4-wheel vehicle on the back.

We didn’t look at all like the Clampetts coming to town.

Or perhaps like a scene from Grapes of Wrath.

He motioned for me to come get Caroline out of the truck in case oncoming cars didn’t see a huge, white Ford F350 with a 15 foot trailer attached with various hazard lights blinking like a huge beacon. So there we stood on the side of I-35, in the freezing cold, not looking at all like white trash.

And I had to go to the bathroom.

No, I didn’t go on the side of the road.

But I thought about it.

It seems that P’s muffler had started to fall off which was causing his truck to sound like he was about to start drag racing. And this wasn’t just some factory muffler, it’s some SUPER muffler with SUPER MUFFLER qualities that make your truck ten times better than an average truck. At least that’s what the salesman told us. P wanted to salvage the muffler.

And there we stood on the side of the road. In the freezing wind. Needing to potty.

Meanwhile, P was under the truck trying to use baling wire to reattach his overpriced muffler. It will always be a treasured memory for me.

Finally all of us, including the muffler, got back on the road so we could reach the next exit and pull off because two guesses! I needed to go to the bathroom.

We repeated the earlier bathroom scenario and once again, Caroline didn’t go.

Then, about 10 minutes later, rinse and repeat.

We head out again and drive for a lengthy 20 more minutes before P pulls over at another gas station. I didn’t know why we were stopping, but was worried we were about to lose the family inheritance, otherwise known as the muffler.

He pulled Caroline out of the truck.

She needed to go potty.

Because the other three stops had been insufficient.

All said and done it took us three and a half hours to make a one hour drive to the ranch.

And y’all will be glad to know the muffler is still with us. It was touch and go for awhile but I think it’s going to be okay.

And, hopefully, so will my bladder.

In all the excitement of the Aggies beating the hell outta t.u., I almost neglected to talk about what we did the weekend before Thanksgiving. And trust me, there is a lot to tell.

Gulley and I took the kids to Bryan for a little thing called Santa’s Wonderland, which y’all have to admit is a catchy name for a Christmas-themed village. Much better than their original choice which was Santa’s Mediocre Village.

We arrived in Bryan and hadn’t even gotten the bags unloaded when Nena called and told us that we had to come visit because she had something for the kids. The thing about Nena is she always has something for everyone and you never know what you’re going to get. Remember this shirt?

Classic.

In fact, last time I visited I just barely got out of her house without a four foot tall letter M painted gold. She had originally bought it for Gulley’s mama whose name starts with M, but for some reason Gulley’s mama declined to seize the opportunity to make a four foot tall letter M part of her décor. Nena was just sick that I left her house without that M.

And truth be told, so was I.

I could have found a matching P for P and hung them over the head of our bed. We’d be kind of like Laverne DeFazio, except we wouldn’t be bottlecappers for Schotz brewery.

Anyway, we headed over to Nena’s. She was watching “What Not To Wear” and was quick to tell us the woman looked liked she needed to be ARRESTED for indecent exposure.

I bet she forgot her stole.

She’d bought cute snowmen for the kids and then told me she found a jacket in the back of her closet that she just had to show me. She came out holding what can only be described as something Diana Ross might have in her closet.

Except more flamboyant.

She wanted to know where I thought she could wear it and, other than a roller derby, I was fresh out of ideas. I told her I wasn’t sure but it was probably too dressy for breakfast. She was quick to inform me that it would be perfect for holiday shopping because really “It’s CASUAL because it has ribbed knit cuffs. IT’S LIKE A SWEATER!”

Sure it is.

But she was so excited about it that she let me take a picture of her modeling it and was thrilled to know it would be seen by the “MILLIONS of people who read Big Mama”.

Yes, I have somewhere between ZERO and a million readers.

On Sunday we went back over to Nena’s. Uncle Johnny and Uncle Glen were over at the house eating lunch. They were all abuzz about the number of folks that are leaving Central Baptist Church for First Baptist Church. It seems there has been some kind of drama. Uncle Glen says Central Baptist needs to do what his church did and start serving real wine for communion. Ever since they wheeled in that piano and started serving alcohol, attendance has skyrocketed.

They’re up to 98 members. 98 members who enjoy imbibing while listening to a little piano music on a Sunday morning.

Uncle Glen was also lamenting his woman troubles. He can’t seem to find a nice girl. A few minutes later he was watching Gulley’s boys play and told her, “You’d make a good cow. You drop huge stock but you don’t eat much.”

I think I might have a clue as to why he’s having woman problems. Call me oversensitive, but it was always a dealbreaker once I was compared to livestock.

On Sunday night we went to Santa’s Wonderland. The kids loved every minute of it.

They played in the snow.

They sat on Santa’s lap.

They rode a mechanical bull.

You can’t teach that kind of bullriding skill. It’s just inherent.

Truth be told, I was a little concerned about the whole bullriding thing. Not because of the safety or anything, but just concerned it might start Caroline down a path that will lead to her marrying a boy whose idea of love is to have his and her license plates in the back window of his truck. And she’d have to listen to things like “Sissy, get me my cigarettes.”

Maybe I’m just overprotective because after watching Urban Cowboy as an impressionable 5th grader, my life dream for a few years was to ride the bull at Gilley’s.

I’m not proud.

Anyway, they finished off the night with a hayride and cotton candy. Lots of cotton candy.

That is pure, unmitigated joy.

I’ve been so busy discussing the fun we had this weekend in Birmingham that I haven’t taken the time to bring up a question that has been weighing on my mind.

What is up with people eating Chinese food at 8 a.m. in an airport?

It’s as if people have lost their mind in the midst of their air travel plans.

I landed at Houston Hobby airport at 8 a.m. Friday morning and, big shock, I was hungry. I needed some sustenance so I went in search of something that could pass for breakfast. And I’m not a breakfast snob.

I have been known to eat a strawberry Go-tart, so obviously taste and nutrition weren’t huge factors in my decision-making process.

I found a Pappasitos that was serving breakfast tacos and, although I was leary of eating eggs made in the airport and sausage that was cut in slices as opposed to browned and crumbled like God and Mexico intended, it wasn’t half bad.

It was all bad.

Oh I kid because I am a breakfast taco snob.

Here’s what I found disturbing. The Pappasitos was located in a food court type location with other dining venues around it. There was a Pizza Hut, a McDonalds, and a Rising Phenix Hunan Cuisine.

(I’m hoping the Rising Phenix makes someone else think of Stefano DiMera on Days of Our Lives…if not, nevermind…forget I said anything)

All of them were open at 8 a.m. Friday morning.

Okay, I understand McDonalds being open because they have the McGriddle and if you only eat one McGriddle every three years, it can actually taste decent. In fact, the morning after I had Caroline and hadn’t eaten for over 24 hours, P brought me a McGriddle (he is a sly, romantic dog) and that first bite was akin to a religious experience.

But anyway, as I sat and ate my faux breakfast taco, I noticed that all around me people were eating plates of General Tso’s chicken from the Rising Phenix and slices of pepperoni pizza from Pizza Hut. What kind of sick and twisted world do we live in where people are eating Chinese cuisine and bad pizza at 8 a.m. IN AN AIRPORT?

It’s as if they had no concept of taste or decency. It’s as if the airport had robbed them of their senses. It’s as if their tastebuds were confiscated along with the 4 oz. bottle of lotion they had in their carry-on luggage.

Because, in case you were wondering, it’s only 3 oz. of liquid or less that is allowed in the carry-on luggage. Even one extra ounce could lead to an evil terrorist plot. Oh sure, it may look like Bath and Body Works Anti-Bacterial lotion, but it is a weapon of mass destruction.

If you’re bacteria.

I finished up my taco and resisted the urge to go throw up due to the overwhelming stench of General Tso and his evil chicken. I headed to my gate to wait to board my flight and as I arrived I saw numerous people milling around drinking adult beverages.

What the???

It’s 8 a.m.

Anyone with a shred of decency knows that you don’t drink alcoholic beverages before 9:00 a.m….unless you mix it with tomato juice and a celery stick, in which case 8 a.m. is perfectly acceptable.

But what I’m talking about are cans of Coors Light, Bud Light, and Miller Lite. Apparently if you’re drinking that early in the morning it better be a light beer because it’s a marathon, not a sprint, people.

Then, I saw some folks walking up to the gate with a bright purple cooler as their carry-on and it finally dawned on me. I was getting on a plane headed to Alabama with all the LSU fans.

Those LSU folks don’t mess around.

Geaux Tigers with your bad Chinese food and your Miller Lite.

I salute you and your intestinal fortitude, not to mention your football team’s astounding ability to win games in the last 30 seconds.

We should all be so blessed.

Well, here I am. Somewhere in the air between Houston and San Antonio. And as much fun as I had this weekend, I’m ready to see my people.

That’s the part of having kids that you don’t understand until you have one. It’s so nice to get away, what with all the uninterrupted sleep and the not eating at McDonald’s, but I miss Caroline like crazy and can’t wait to see her so that she can ignore me completely and act completely indifferent that I’m home after being gone for more than 48 hours.

And since I wrote that part while I was still in the air, I can now report that when Caroline saw me she gave me a big hug and told me I smelled like a sleeping bag.

I’m not sure what that means, but it doesn’t necessarily sound like a compliment.

Motherhood is an endless joyride of happiness, guilt and wonder.

So, how to sum up the weekend?

It’s a weird thing to meet people you feel like you know, but yet have never met in real life.

In reality, I knew more about Sophie and Shannon going into this weekend than I know about the mamas who drop their kids off at school with Caroline or that I see at the playground twice a week.

I know about their kids, their husbands, their faith and the things that make them laugh. I know some of the things they’ve struggled with over the last couple of years and how they’ve dealt with it.

Most importantly, I know that Sophie’s hair is a little blonder than she’d like and that Shannon is concerned about her hair being too short.

But this weekend I got to know them in real life. We got to talk about how we feel about our families, our lives, and our faith in person.

We got to hug and laugh and cry. We got to shop at Steinmart together. And Walmart.

And y’all know what they say, you don’t really know a woman until you’ve shopped with her.

Or maybe I just say that.

But it’s true.

And as much as I was ready to get home and hug my people, I’m sad that the weekend ended so soon.

I owe a huge thank you to Casting Crowns and Provident Music for sending me to Birmingham this weekend. It was everything I thought it would be and more.

I can’t say enough that if you get the chance to see Casting Crowns, Leeland, and John Waller in concert, you must go.

And if you can’t go, buy their CD’s. It will be money well spent. They are just the real deal.

The real, talented, humble deal.

Much like the girls I met this weekend.

Oh, and one last thing.

P didn’t see me leave Friday morning because I left at the crack of the crack of dawn. When he picked me up at the airport this afternoon, and saw the size of the suitcase I took for the weekend, he was honestly speechless.

Here is Caroline curled up in my suitcase after I unpacked tonight.

I think P may have a point. A bag that you could pack your child in and still fit in a nice pair of boots is probably a little overkill for a weekend trip.

I just need options.

I’m sitting here on the bed with the fitted sheets, with Sophie and Shannon right next to me.

I wasn’t going to write anything but they are both furiously typing away on their laptops and, honestly, the peer pressure is getting to me.

However, I have been way too busy reading the TexAgs message boards, hoping and praying that someone will say that Fran has been fired. So, my point is, I haven’t come up with a way to even discuss the day.

Well, other than to say, we have had so much fun.

This morning Sophie brought Alex to the hotel so that we could meet the little man in person. And let me tell y’all I would pack him in my suitcase and take him home. He is a doll.

And he told me my sweater was “gorgeous”, so he totally already has a way with the ladies.

Then, since we figured he probably wouldn’t enjoy a day of shopping, we took him home. Sophie had prepared us that her house was “just a mess”.

And it absolutely was.

If by mess you mean that not a thing is out of place and everything is totally and completely beautiful.

The view out her back windows is like being at some sort of country retreat. I mean there are trees. With leaves that are colors I have seen in pictures, but never in real life.

And a river.

And a deck on which a person could sit outside and absorb the beauty of the fall foliage while thinking deep thoughts.

By contrast, the view out my back windows consists of a porta-potty on the neighbors driveway and a Little Tykes slide that has seen better days. Neither of which really make me want to sit on my back porch and think deep thoughts.

Except for maybe wondering how long our mailman is going to stay in that porta-potty.

Anyway, after we dropped Alex off at home, we headed out to eat and to shop. We had barbecue for lunch and some of the best sweet tea I’ve ever had.

Then, fortified by our pulled pork plates, we started shopping. It should come as no surprise that our first stop was Steinmart.

And that we all bought something.

Shannon bought the prettiest bag for her laptop and it was 30% with an additional 20% off, which is practically free.

Of course once we got back to the hotel we realized her laptop doesn’t actually fit in it, so when you add in the cost of a new laptop, it’s not quite as much of a bargain, but it’s so pretty it doesn’t really matter.

We went in some darling stores in the Homewood section of Birmingham. One store tempted me beyond all reason to decorate my Christmas tree with blue and brown ornaments this year. Until I realized Caroline would probably rather have toys than a beautifully decorated Christmas tree.

We looked at beautiful things, talked each other into buying some things, and ate a lot of food. So it was pretty much the perfect day.

And now we’re all sitting together blogging about it. Which is probably more than slightly nerdy, but you know what they say about birds of a feather.

I just have to say that I adore these girls. We have laughed until we’ve cried. We’ve talked until we’re slightly hoarse.

We’ve just had the best time. They are both as honest, funny, sincere and genuine as y’all would expect and more.

And being with them has taken the sting out of the fact that the Aggies are losing 42-7 and Coach Fran is still our coach.

That is some powerful friendship.

Because we don’t want Jeana to think we have some sort of conspiracy.

Here we are with Mark Hall after the concert last night.

Excited doesn’t really cover it.

I have almost been up for 24 hours, so I’m going to bed. Immediately.

But two things real quick.

1. The Casting Crowns concert was awesome. Seriously, they are so humble and so talented.

And I can’t even talk about how thrilled I was that we got to talk to Mark Hall for a few minutes.

2. Kudos to the hotel where I am staying for having fitted bottom sheets AND feather pillows. That is what I call FANCY.

Oh wait, one more thing.

Shannon and Sophie are even better in person. My stomach already hurts from laughing so hard…or maybe it’s from the Taco Bell I ate 30 minutes ago at 11:30 p.m.

It’s as if I think I have the same digestive system I had in college.

Oh, and one last thing.

If you want to upload photos to your computer, it helps to pack a USB cord.