Way back in April, my friend Dee—who comments here sometimes and with whom I’ve bonded over librarianship, Leverage, husbands, muffins, and music—dropped me an e-mail:
Just FYI, I just found out the Piano Guys are going to be at the Civic Center in Des Moines in October.
Des Moines is within reasonable driving distance from our place—or reasonable for a chance to see this group live and meet Dee face-to-face, anyway—so I immediately replied that we totally needed to go.
And we are.
The tickets arrived in May and I’ve kept them safe ever since—so safe, I thought I’d lost them once or twice.*
But I’m looking at those two lovely pasteboard rectangles right now and soon my husband and I are going to hop in the car and escort them west, where we will trade them in for a night of good company and excellent music, and finally return home to grab a couple hours sleep until it’s time to wake the girls for school.
My husband arranged to have Sunny’s godmother pick them up after school and take them home, where they WILL be doing their homework and minding their grandmother, JANE—and you aren’t supposed to be on the computer, log off right now and finish your math or you’re toast—and tucking themselves in ON TIME, SUNNY—and I hope you’ve done your spelling module?
They’re both a bit befuddled that their parents are
escaping running away going on an adventure in the middle(ish) of a school week—and frankly, so am I—but they’re stoked about being allowed to sleep in my MIL’s guest room as a special treat, so it should work out all right.
Regardless, it won’t be my problem until tomorrow morning.
See you then.
*Though not as safe as I kept the check I wrote to Dee the day after but didn’t actually mail until June. Letters can be so unreasonable about mailing themselves, even when you go out of your way to find stamps to put on them.