Where Did July Go?!?!

And now the Sheriff's probably going to text the family, "Where'd Russia go?"

But seriously, it was just turning July 1st. The traffic has barely become unplugged from the water-in-the-tunnel fiasco that threatened to keep us on this side of the bay, instead of rocking it out in D.C. for the 4th of July with the Oregonians we miss/love/adore/can't seem to get rid of.

But obviously that didn't happen, and we were to tear it up with both the Canadian (who I hadn't seen since his Commissioning, and the loveable Collin & Katie who had been my stomping ground in Corvallis and been my partners in crime for the good food and beer that our quaint college town offered to the student population).

Then wook's birthday jumped out of the woodwork with jazz hands, and I was NOT prepared for that. Nor was my liver. But let's no go there. We've been on the uphill since Saturday evening. Let's keep the progress steady.

Wook's birthday was good. He had a monster steak. We suited up (and be "suited," I mean I rocked my best Joanie from Mad Men - pencil skirt, fabulous accessories, sassy attitude). We played the Downtown scene. We had a ball. Most of us remember everything (minus Sean, who seems to forget life exists after Havana. How he makes it home surprises me.).

Everything else really is a blur.

Hopefully August won't be the same way. At least it shouldn't.

My only concern is Tracer's 21-er. In Vegas. Yes, that Vegas.

My Dearest Sister,

Please prepare for the 21st birthday outting as if this were World War III. Keep heavy stock of ibuprofin, gatorade, bagels, crackers, Pepto, hair bands, and a change of clothes. Not necessarily for you (because sometimes the guests of the Birthday Person get just as crazy, if not more so, than the Birthday Person).

Your vision may become hazy at some point in the night. Don't fight it. You're already too far gone. Just make sure that you have good friends to take care of you. And hopefully they don't have markers (just don't fall asleep with your shoes on). And when you wake up the next morning, don't rush to get out of bed. Have your WWIII stash on the nightstand. You'll thank me later.

Nothing beats waking up in the morning when you feel okay laying down, and then you get up and are forced to sniper crawl your way to the bathroom because you suddenly rushed your blood supply back to work when it really needed more recooping time.

One can say they've prepared a college-education's worth for their 21st birthday. Sadly, this usually has no bearing on how the night will turn out (which is usually awesome!).

So be safe, wear reasonably-sane shoes (Vegas block sizes are bitches), don't think you lose your phone even though you're talking on it (that happened to my old roomie...while she was on the phone...with me..."OMG GUYS, I LOST MY PHONE!...Katie, it's in your hand!"), and please, please, don't lose a tooth. But Mike Tyson's tiger is fair game.

Good luck, and don't take the porn handouts on the Vegas streets,

Your Older, Wiser, Been-There-Done-That Sister

Let's here it for July. You were a good month. August. Let's see what you're made of.