You know what I have bought before? Good socks. Deb is a hiker, she needs good socks. I am practical, I like good socks. If I bring something like that then there is a chance one of us are going home with something we can actuall wear! (since it is a game where you steal from each other). I have already bought my present and it is not socks or a thong. So there.

NO STRESSING!!!!!!!!!!!! I was at Mo’s last night laughing hard for the first time in a long time. (she has a neighbor that sounds like a Duck or Goose honking when he blows his nose – AND YOU CAN HEAR IT IN HER HOUSE FROM HIS HOUSE!) there is also a nice single man and I said she should invite him over for dinner Thursday because maybe you’d fall madly in love with him and move here. That sent us into hysterical laughter trying to picture the 2 of you together.

I can’t wait to see you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You want stress? I’ll give you stress. Last night while preparing for bed I gave a little whimper because I’m advertising staying up all night for four nights and laughing until I pee myself, but we all know the truth that I’m trying to not look at: I need to sleep. I NEED to sleep. Sleep to me is like a shot of whisky to a dying drunk. All day long I look forward to my nighty night. I take a daily pill and I need to take it, and it makes me blessedly sleepy. An hour after I take it? You can talk to me, but no one’s home. I’ve actually spent a month cutting back on it SIMPLY because I figure less of said drug will help me to stay awake for four nights in August. Nope. I’m still sleepy after I take it. So I’m stressing about being a hostess, having a bajillion friends over along with my pal from the other side of the country (shivering because it’s only 80 degrees), and having to leave everyone to go climb into bed for my blessed sleep of the damned. I got shit for it in Vegas, and I anticipate getting shit for it in my own home too. Of course in Vegas I was a mental wreck, so there’s that too. (Marriage failing, mother recently disowning me, losing my brand new fancy cell phone within a minute of arriving in town…you know, nothing huge or anything.)

Then there’s my house, that looks like the aftermath of Hiroshima. There’s Rosemary poo on the far side floor of my bed because I’ll be damned if I’ll pick it up–she’s Ben’s damn dog. Nevermind he’s been gone for a week and a half. Nevermind that. It’s now fossilized and I realize, “OK. Guess I need to pick that up before Donna steps on it and runs for the airport screaming.” It’s still there. I cleaned off my table for my stamping party over a week ago, and it’s already buried again by junk mail and bills, my jackets, my lunch sack, William’s orientation crap, all my shoes kicked off under it, and God only knows what else. At least I know there’s no fossilized poo on there.

The thock party? I always just give socks….I’m uber boring. And I throw them in a gift bag and unceremoniously dump it under the tree and it’s so boring it’s usually the last thing picked. I am not clever or creative. At all. There are enough other people who are, so they offset my boringness. And I haven’t even thought about shopping for it yet, so if you want, we could even do that out here when you come. It’s about the last thing on my mind, actually. And it should be the last thing on yours too. You are here simply to enjoy yourself, not worry about having a creatively wrapped dumb gift that someone will be too drunk to appreciate anyway! So stop it.

Tomorrow will be 85 degrees in Seattle, so you will step off the plane into lovliness. It’s the hottest day while you’re here, actually. Friday may be the worst day, but still…74 with a slight chance of drizzle. The rest of the days will be mid to upper seventies. I’ll just prop you up next to Deb and the two of you can cry in your margaritas about wanting hot hot hot weather and I’ll sit back and make fun of you two. How’s that? The mornings are in the fifties, so they’re chilly and I imagine you’ll think you’re in Siberia, but I promise to keep you bundled up inside so you won’t notice. If we go somewhere in the morning, I’ll turn the car on, open up the passenger door, go inside, cover you in a quilt, and bundle you out the door and into the car so that you won’t be touched by chilliness.

Now. Stop stressing! Leave that to me, because I’m much better at it than you. I’m a professional. And by the way, if I can fly across an entire ocean (ok, ok…half an ocean–but it was DEEP and there were sharks!) then you can fly across a tiny country, Right? Right. And what Cindy said….you will be visiting two countries on your little trip, all for the price of one! How about that! In fact, you may even be involved in a confrontation with the border patrol while Demery floors her minivan through the barricade and I hang out the window with my tommy gun yelling, “YOU’LL NEVER TAKE US ALIVE, BASTARDS!!!” Imagine all the stories you’ll go home with!

**Disclaimer….I don’t even know what a tommy gun is, let alone own one, in case anyone feels the need to report me as an international terrorist. (I’m Danish, for the love of God.)Thank you, and have a lovely day.**

Anyhoo……I love you, and I promise to be the best hostess ever, and you will have so much fun you’ll pee yourself daily. Bring Depends.

ONE MORE DAY!!!!!