Leaving on a jet plane

I’m off to New Orleans in a few hours. I guess I should already be packing.

The worst thing about leaving town is that I have to leave Merrin. I don’t think either of us do too well with seperation. She knows I’ll miss her and that I love her. I know that she’ll probably miss me and loves me. But it sure doesn’t make being apart any easier.

Hopefully having some good neighbors around will mean that she’ll get to go out to dinner or play at least one night while I’m gone. You know, go to the Coops and spill a beer on their new sofa or something.

I’ll be out of touch until (at least) Wed night. I’m hoping to meet Señor schmed while in his hometown. If you’ve read his blog you’ll understand my slight concern that I may not understand a single word he says. I presume he speaks some form of English. ๐Ÿ˜‰

I’ve gotta go pack. I’ve got a whole lifetime’s worth of mental pictures of the dogs and Merrin that I always take with me, so I hope I have enough room! See all y’all soon!

12 Comments on “Leaving on a jet plane”

  1. She’s more than welcome to come over and spill a beer on the new couch, and eat dinner too. And, if she doesn’t feel like coming over, we can bring her dinner via fence mail.

    Have a safe trip, and enjoy! We’ll see you when you get back.

  2. This, ladies and gempmum, is the part in our moovy ware we clarifie:

    Firstus and phormostus, N’arlins ain’t (by any strentch of the figmagination) my hometowin. That destinked honor falls upon Baton Rouge (and makes a rather loud noise when it hits). I accrue taxes payable in N’arlins.

    A) I dizn’t noe ware Kevin got the “Seรฑor schmed” bidniz – all tho I haz got a Spaniard way up the fambly tree and I become more senior all the time. For ziss creck, zee launch may hev to be yat ziss leetle dive call-ed “Nacho Mama’s.”

    2) It’s my spelling constructs that tend to confuzzle the casuel reader, but even the laziest sumquich can out-figger the verbalizated version.

    iii) Noat to Merrin: Make sure he stays out of The Peoples’ Landbased Funds Extraction Facility or he’s liable to have to hock his suits he so carefully folded to get bus fare home and ride all the way back wearing a wooden barrel held up with old suspenders.

  3. I can’t even begin to follow that, so I’ll just say that I’ll miss you. Have fun, and please, whatever you do, try to avoid seeking revenge for my New Orleans trip. Remember, we weren’t even married. ๐Ÿ˜‰

  4. Boy, talk about a letdown – poor Merrin.

    I told Kevin how to recognize me and arranged to meet up with him at this coffee shop. So I go over there and this guy standing outside the place steps up and says “hey, how ’bout that coffee?” and we go inside and order. Boy was he hungover – reeked of booze and hardly made any sense. I kept trying to talk to him about blogging and technical web stuff but he kept changing the subject to how his car needed work and the cops gave him a hard time.

    I thought Kevin’s hygine would be a little better – the beard and ponytailed hair I almost expected, him being so tech-savvy – but you’d think he hadn’t bathed in a week. And it was a little chilly this morning, but not so cold as he’d’a had to wear all his clothes (and that folding excercise was a mizzable failure).

    The thing that ripped it though was that he scarfed up about $15 worth of scones and coffee and when I went to the men’s room, he took off without so much as a thank you.

  5. I hoped you had a sensayumer.

    Actually Kevin was very considerate. He called to beg off burgering at the Margaritaville on Decatur because his associates had decided to avail themselves of the local culture. I think they were gonna tour the plantations because he said something about how they all wanted to go to the House of the Rising Sun, of which I’m nunfamiliar…

  6. Well, I’m guessing he made it to Margaritaville at some point, because I just talked to him. Wait. Let me clarify: I picked up the phone and heard him wailing the words to “Why Don’t We Get Drunk”. Apparently, he’d already taken Mr. Buffett up on that particular offer…. And there are rumors of beads?!?! Damn it, that’s MY job!!!

    Beer, Bloody Marys, Hurricanes, Oh My!

  7. Sounds like you’re having nothing short of a great time in the Big Easy! Hope that Buffett guy treats you well! Wasting away again in Margaritaville…

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