I am writing this post from very high up in the sky. No, I’m not in Heaven (this better not be, I just paid $7 for a Chardonnay). I’m on an airplane, going to Miami, where I am meeting some friends to play mah jongg.
Sounds crazy, doesn’t it?
When Young Ladrinka asked me why I was going to Miami and I said “to play mah jongg with my friends” he could not believe it.
“WHAT?” he said. “That makes absolutely no sense. Why don’t I just go to California with my friends to play Magic?”
Many people leaped to his defense. (An ESL BTW: Can’t I say “leapt”? I’m getting that red squiggly learn-to-spell-jackass line underneath leapt.)
“He sort of has a point,” Husbandrinka said. “Couldn’t you just stay in New York and play?”
“Why didn’t you just tell him you were going for a girls’ weekend?” another friend suggested.
I’m not going to white lie about mah jongg. (I’m saving that for bigger things). And as far as staying in NYC to play. Well.
Yesterday I had a very not good day where many unpleasant things happened. Things like familiar vomit and tears and exhaustion and I woke up today feeling like I did not want to leave my bed, perhaps not ever.
And if I were to meet my girlfriends for some mah jongg on the Upper East Side, as we are want to do, I no doubt would have canceled. But I wasn’t. I was meeting them in Miami, and my ticket has been bought and paid for and canceling would have meant calling the airline to change my flight, and talk about credits and penalties and being on hold, and by all that is holy there are very few things that I wouldn’t do to avoid calling an airline. So I’m on board.
Spending the weekend in Miami with my girlfriends. Playing mah jongg.
Because sometimes a mom has got to fly a mile high.
I better win.