Dang Song

It's a sure sign of rock-bottom homesickness when the song "California Girls" (er, sorry, "Gurls") makes me choke up. I'm not normally one to quote Katy Perry, but truly nothing comes close to the Golden Coast.

Must be today's Wichita weather, which is what they call SEVERE. That's code for, "don't open your door or it'll blow off its hinge." Children under 40 lbs. (that's Roman) blow into hedges and, in more SEVERE cases, houses land on unsuspecting witches.

Thankfully, we don't have to go far today. After an incredibly busy-but-fun day yesterday, we're in today, with only laundry and naps on the agenda.

But, alas, we'll be on the coast soon enough; we're traveling to San Pedro in two weeks for Anthony's dear Grandma Jean's 90th b'day. In the meantime, I've got to get this damn song out of my head.

Speaking of travel, before the weather turned SEVERE (you can't help but write it that way!), we popped out to get big-boy Ben his own suitcase with b'day money from his great-grandfather Ben. When you turn 5 in this house, you dress yourself (note the muscle-T, Hawaiian shorts and camo shoes) and haul your own suitcase. Let the traveling begin!