Our girls weekend is underway. We have made it to our destination through torrential downpours. We stopped at the Andy Warhol museum and I have decided that he was a strange man. I was able to appreciate his work and I can respect his desire to have the life he had, but he was a strange man.
We are in a hoity toity resort in the mountains of Pennsylvania and we are getting ready to go to a paint ball war. They suggested that you wear old clothes as not to ruin any good ones and as I was walking down to get something out of the car I could tell people were thinking that I did not belong. How is it that at 40 years old I still feel like I am the little kid trying to play with the big girls?
I will report back after the battle.
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