Aunt Lucy's funeral

(Technically, Great-Aunt Lucy's funeral.)

Driving to Virginia was a bitch. What took me 9 hours on Sunday, with no traffic, took 12 hours on Friday. Some asshat decided that the Friday of a holiday weekend was a good time to do construction on the Delaware Memorial Bridge, which means I sat--SAT--in traffic for 2 hours, to traverse 2 miles, because they took 6 lanes of traffic down to 2.

The swearing inside my car was epic.

I made it to Grandma's in one piece, eventually, took a long hot shower, and drank the rest of Grandma's hooch from Christmas with my mom and dad. The funeral on Saturday was very nice; there were probably at least 150 people there, including a bunch of extended relatives I hadn't seen in years. Saturday night we all went out to dinner with my brother so that I could meet my new niece, Aislynn.

She's a cutie--and she makes faces in her sleep, which is just about the cutest thing I've ever seen. Almost as cute as a basketful of kittens, yawning.

One day of socializing, and then back on the road, back home to Boston.

Remind me the next time I decide to drive 9 hours each way for a three-day weekend, that it's not a good idea.

Then, predictably, all hell broke loose at work on Monday because I'd missed Friday.

Fortunately, there are three things to cheer me up:
1. Spring weather.
2. Book club tomorrow night, which means martinis.
3. My friend L and her new boyfriend are coming over for dinner Saturday night, which will be AWESOME. I may even break out the good wine.

My hubby flew his son back to LA while I was at the funeral, and somehow the rental car gods smiled on him while he was there: he got magically upgraded to a Mustang convertible.

He described it as "awesome, and growly."

I'm so jealous.