Vegas is Sparkly

Hi pals, I'm back. I missed you. Let's go out for hot chocolate or something.

1.) Nearly every person who had to transport me over the last week came down with the stomach flu. First Rach, then Stacy, and now Sam. I would like to give a pre-apology to Katie and Heather who picked me up from the airport last night. I feel as fresh as a daisy so I seem to be just a carrier instead of a victim. But then, I have to be nigh unto death in order to throw up. If it makes them feel any better I once prayed for death on the floor of a bathroom after throwing up for 6 straight hours during a previous trip to Utah.

2.) I heard this announcement over the loud speaker last night at the Long Beach airport: "Will the following parties please report to terminal 2: Bob Wilson, Meredith Smith, Rick-Rick." And also, I love flying into Long Beach because you get to walk off the plane and onto the tarmac, like your the president, or the Beatles. I always wave when I come out of the plane door.

3.) There will be no Cute Nephew stories here because I really don't want to become that person. But I will say that my nephews are cute. Probably cuter than yours but I don't want to hurt your feelings.

4.) I will also not bore you with a travelogue of what I did in Vegas because it mostly consists of talking and eating and talking and laughing and talking some more and playing games in our hotel room while talking and laughing and talking and then I straightened Laura's hair and then we talked and laughed.

5.) We chose to meet in Las Vegas because it was the most easily accessible spot for all of us to meet up - and really, I would travel to the ends of the earth to be with those girls - but I hate Vegas. You can't convince me that it is a worth-while place. I neither drink, nor gamble, nor flash my bosoms to the world. It is completely lost on me.

6.) Well, almost completely. Because the Liberace Museum is priceless. Priceless, I say! You MUST go there. There are disco ball cars and lots and lots of feathered and rhinestoned capes. And tour guides with really bad wigs - I'm talking doll hair kind of wigs - who will tell you that the reason why Liberace started wearing all those big beautiful costumes was because he had a gig at the Hollywood Bowl and he wanted the couples necking in the top rows to be able to see him. Oh, it was heaven. It hardly seems possible that my dreams of seeing Wayne Newton in concert and visiting the Liberace Museum have come true within 8 months of each other. Would someone like to sponsor my trip to
Graceland to complete the trifecta?