A few weeks ago I mentioned to Missy Moo that I'd like to make a visit over to see her on her Island farm, always a lovely place to visit in the summer. We agreed on a weekend when she and most of her assorted hangers-on would be likely to be around, and also when RedCarGirl, who wished to accompany me, was available. That weekend is the one coming up.
Since first discussing this, you'd think I was planning a trip to Europe with all the fuss I've made about popping over to see my sister for a weekend. I have sent emails galore updating her on the complex plans for this event.
Shall I stay with Missy Moo in her house? Well, she's preparing it to show for selling (hence also the aforementioned painting), and I was uncomfortable with the idea of creating more to-do (and indeed to do) under those circumstances. So after some electronic waffling, I booked RCGirl and myself into a nearby motel.
Then the question was, to bring the car or arrive as foot passengers? Wafflewaffle. Foot. Car. Foot. Car. But then we became the parents of the adorable Fit. Car it is.
Just as an aside, when we were handed all the final papers for our new car upon picking it up, one of them was identified to us as the car's "birth certificate". So there you go.
Then today I had to email Missy Moo again to alert her as to which ferry we'd be on, because nothing can be done on a whim. All must be thoroughly planned out. Now, I'd say this is another classic step on the granny path, us old folks needing everything pinned down and plenty of notice about what's happening, except that I think really I've always been a bit OCD this way.
RedCarGirl, the sun-worshipper, is hoping to spend pretty much the entire weekend in the Moo pool and sunning on the Moo deck, although I THINK the weather is supposed to cool down a bit by the weekend. (Oh lord, I do hope so, or I'll just be insane, and not in a good and humorous way but a frightening and alien-invasion sort of way.)
I am also hoping for a nice, low-key weekend after being so busy with work the past month. So I am hoping Sister Moo hasn't planned any 17-mile hikes or mountain climbing or building homes for the poor or anything of that nature. (HA! As if!! She has actually met me!) I would like to sit wherever is coolest round about the Moo abode, drinking things with ice in them, and eating the wondrous and beautiful berries from the farm, all of which, of course, I expect to be brought to me by lackeys. Because I am old. And because I am Me. But that's okay. I'm bringing my own flesh-and-flunky, so my demands on Moo minions will be few.
The Queen has spoken. Prepare thee, Moo household, for the royal visit.