Sadly (well, not really in my opinion) it was not a terribly exciting weekend. Charlotte and I both flew into the monumentally confusing but ultimately cleverly designed DFW late Friday afternoon. We fortunately met right up - the baggage claim there is unlike any I've ever experienced - and were picked up by Sheryl, who'd spent the last two hours of her schoolday without electricity. Entertaining highschoolers sans power isn't something I'd relish, but she'd taken it in stride . . . to the point of letting one of the girls braid her hair into cornrows. There's a reason that look hasn't really taken off among persons of pallor.
We had supper at Chuy's and spent the night chatting. The next day Sheryl's husband Steve was off to work on a Habitat house and we went to a mall in some suburb or other (Dallas is huge!) where we ate out collective weight in pizza. We then had a quiet evening at home before heading off to church the next morning.
As it happened, Steve was installed that Sunday as a deacon at New St. Peter's Presbyterian Church, so there were various parents and in-laws there, always fun. We had dee-licious fajitas and a laughter-filled lunch before heading back to the airport (it claims to be the size of Manhattan, and I believe it) for our flights. Lots of good girl time, and I'm looking forward to Charlotte's 30th even more.