Frankly my dear...

We're at the beach still. Not leaving until the last possible second. They'll probably have to drag me kicking and screaming, with a death-grip on my lounge chair, screaming hysterically - "not ready. not ready."

That's not exactly true. I'm ready to go home. I miss Eric. I need to be with my other kids - Adam, Lucy, and Jonathan.  I must be getting old because I think I miss the cats too. (nah! let's not get crazy.) Amy has not yet tried to rip off my head to yell down the hole, so I think it's safe to say, she is tolerating me.

But I am seriously processing the events of this past weekend.  So many seriously intense moments.
And I want to do them all justice.  Marc calls them Magic Moments and I agree. I will write more about Cuba Nostalgia when I've finished processing. I plan to stretch it out for a few days. But right now my highest goal is to stretch out the breaded cutlets that are my feet and just BE.

I'll be on a plane to California later this afternoon. I have the kind of timing that I will probably completely break down when we land in L.A. I am feeling the emotions just under the surface.

But I don't feel like I can really cope with all my emotions yet. I'm being all Scarlett O'Hara about it:

"I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow." - Gone with the Wind.

(see you in L.A. =D)