Because Bob Wiley Will Love Us. I Know It.

I'm packing for vacation today.

Oh, how I hate packing. I think my disdain for packing comes along with my disdain for lists which, according to my sister, is part of my Myers-Brigg's personality type of which I have no idea what that is, but list-haters are apparently of a certain type and I'm clearly one of them.

Hello, most awkward, run-on sentence ever.

I have a little secret to tell you. Shhhhh. Come in closer. "Put your ear to my breath" as my four year-old would say.

I knew you all were list makers.

Just about everyone I know is a list maker, and I have accepted that I am a disorganized, non-list-maker-forget-stuff-all-the-time-should-be-making-lists-like-the-rest-of-you weirdo.

But, hey - here's a shout-out to the three or so non-list makers who read my little blog. High fives, my friends!

Anyway. Back to Bob Wiley.

Who really has nothing to do with anything except that he rode the bus to New Hampshire to annoy the boogers out of "Leo...Oops, excuse me, 'Dr. Marvin'" and New Hampshire is close to where we're going and I like to imagine that we'll run into him and he won't need a Kleenex when we pick him up in our van 'cause he'll love us from the get go.

This post really is about run-on sentences. Not Bob Wiley.

So, our little "Party of Five" is heading up to Vermont tomorrow with my hubby's side of the family for a week of glorious vacation together.

Have I ever told you how much I love these people?

Well, I love them to pieces and have loved them from the very first day I met them. They are of the most lovable sort - all of them - just the kindest, most genuine people on the planet. And, I get to be in their family and vacation with them and I love that they came along with marrying my husband.

But, before all the vacationy happiness and meeting of Bob Wiley can begin, I've got piles of laundry all over my house, and my boys are running around in their tighty whities because I have not permitted them to wear any of their clothes while I'm trying to do every bit of laundry in the house.

It's 90 degrees here today. They're lovin' the excuse to be nekked.

Do any of your kids love to run around nekked? Or are mine the only streakers in town? I swear this place would be a "noodist kolany" if my kids were running the show.

All of this to say, I am in a state of disorganized sluggishness and my kids are all shades of antsy and animated at the thought of seeing Grandma and Grandpa and their aunts and uncles and cousins and spending a week vacationing with them.

It's Slug vs. Ants until 0700 tomorrow morning.

I'm toast.