Viva...

Las Vegas. S.O. is leaving today to go on his biennial trip with friends and frat brothers. I told him he could go--if he took A or me. Limp posturing on my part, really. He did pass the bar.

Sooo....A and I are on our own till Monday (she says with an evil cackle). More posturing. I mean, what trouble could we possible get into that would be as much fun as betting a hard six while sipping on your fourth martini? Well, let's check my array of equally pitiful, wholesome family fun activities:

1. Chuckie Cheese with the cousins
2. Plant flowers with A (an excuse to go to Lowe's and buy flowers, potting soil, pots and a doormat)
3. Leave A with Grandma, stash a diet coke and trail mix in my purse and go to a movie, followed by a compensatory dinner with said Grandma
4. Internet window shopping. Oh wait--I do that all the time anyway.
5. Get pissy off margheritas after A goes to bed, wake up with a hangover and sleep the morning away while Oobi, Dora and Little Bear keep A from noticing my horrid breath

A slow spiral downward into self-pity quickly goes into a nose dive. No. 2 has possibilities though. Real shopping trumps fake shopping anyday, and what's not to love about spending time with my daughter? Throw in an all out carb n'sugar fest and we've got one hell of a party, belly pooch be damned.