If sucky things can happen the day before a vacation, they will.

People monopolized the washing machine last night. Did they not smell the mildewy smell in the hallway from the soggy things that require washing?

Last night the iPod broke. It’s under warranty, so I should be fine. But the store I bought it from had no time for me today. Luckily there’s another Metro-accessible store where I was able to make an 8 p.m. appointment. Keep your fingers crossed that I leave the store with a working iPod.

I had a four-hour meeting today. And another phone meeting in 20 minutes. There are still four other things on my work to-do list.

I need to do laundry — and have it dry. I need to pack.

I need to decide on books and knitting projects to take with me. These are important choices with two cross-country flights in the plan. What if I don’t like the first book? I only have 130 pages left in the book I’m currently reading. Do I leave it behind in favor of a book I haven’t started yet. Should I bring the tank top? Or start Rudi’s other sock? Should I forego taking a shawl and bring the shawl that’s sitting on my needles with the idea that I’ll definitely finish it if I need to wear it on Saturday night?

Ack! Ack! Ack!

I need to remember to breathe…

We’re ten days away from the wedding in California.

Two problems:

a) I don’t have a present yet. Yes, I know. I can buy off the registry if need be. It’s just so … unoriginal. And from one Wesleyan grad to another, it does seem that the gift almost begs to be original. Any ideas?

b) I have to pick a dress. I have four choices:

1. Red satin with plunging neckline, worn to Caroline’s and Sam’s weddings.
2. Pink silk sheath, worn to Jason’s and Wendy’s weddings.
3. Pink flowered linen party dress.
4. White linen full-skirted party dress.

I just modeled them for Rudi, who votes for one of the two linen dresses. It’s an outdoor Saturday night wedding in Southern California. Is linen too informal? I know we’ve abandoned the taboo on wearing black to weddings; how do we feel about guests wearing white?

I’ve got a week and would love some feedback.

I spent a very nice weekend up in Connecticut, arriving home last night with much less fanfare than with which I left D.C. (The trip north Thursday involved one mis-set alarm clock, one turned-off alarm clock, two missed trains, two train tickets, a track power outage up and down the Eastern seaboard, a cab ride, a missed flight, mismatched sandals not discovered until the airport, and a very helpful and sympathetic Southwest Airlines who didn’t charge me extra when they could have easily done so).

As noted in the last post I got to spend some time with old friends, eat Connecticut pizza, and see the family.

I did some knitting and some reading. I watched some videos. I sat in the sun, lazily drinking iced tea. I bought some new clothes. I played Scrabble.

Lest you think me too indolent, I did do a bit of work:

I washed my car.

(Okay, you’re right, that may not actually qualify as work when it’s 95 degrees and you have to turn the hose on…)

But, seriously, I did help the folks work on clearing Gramma’s property of old debris and filling a dumpster of stuff deemed unwantable by anyone. The dumpster was filled, but the yard wasn’t yet empty when I left. Mum and Dad did more work today.

Three members of my family managed puncture wounds over the weekend. (Gramma avoided injury, but I’m still waiting to hear if Josh had some weird sympathy injury out in California.) Interestingly, the two of us whose injuries involved stepping on rusty nails got off scot free. Poor Mum did not, though, as the tree she was helping to cut down apparently took offense and tried to defend itself by attacking her. If you’ve never seen a hawthorn tree’s prickers, they are as long as some needles I’ve had at the doctor’s office. Seriously nasty piece of work. And you thought it hurt when you accidentally pricked yourself with one rose thorn. Try imagining those after an engorgio spell and having a whole limb of them fall on you. Nasty piece of work. Luckily Mum seemed to be sporting only an ugly bruise and welt and was back in the garden by the time I left. She’s a tough cookie.

Today went as well as the first day back after a nice time away could go. No fires to put out. Time to sit and talk at lunch with friends. And also to discuss Wicked with a friend who also just finished reading it. And an ice cream cone tonight to wash down the first day back in the routine.

Vacation is already just a dream of how spring transitioned into summer. Luckily I have about four dozen bug bites to prove that it really did happen. I won’t be able to forget as long as they keep itching. And with Shakespeare in the woods scheduled for this weekend, it seems unlikely I’ll be bite-free for a good while yet.

It’s not that I mean to gloat. Really. But I am doing a little happy dance today because I have tickets to a charity author’s night in August at Radio City Music Hall in New York City.

Who am I going to see?

Why, Stephen King, John Irving, and … J.K. Rowling.

Yes, that’s right. I will be in the same room with the author of Harry Potter!

::shiver::

Rudi can attest that while I am hardly nonplussed by musicians and politicians and other luminaries, that a few years ago when I met Laurent de Brunhoff, author of the later Babar books, that I just about melted into the floor and blathered something ridiculous while starting at him adoringly.

Having bought the tickets does entitle me to submit a question for each of the authors, so if you have anything you’ve been dying to ask any of them, leave it in the comments.

The show wrapped up less than an hour ago and the response was fantastic. My colleague Heather and I agreed that during this show everything went right — the booth had a great location, the librarians showed up, and interest and energy were high.

We’ll probably head to Connecticut sometime tonight; Sam was feeling under the weather this morning and unless he’s feeling better, I’d like to let him recuperate in peace. Even old friends who can generally entertain themselves can be wearing when you feel like crap.

On to Gramma’s 85th birthday celebration!

Just in case anyone is looking for me, my visibility will be spotty through this weekend. I’m up in Boston for work and this weekend will be celebrating Gramma’s 85th birthday (she’s just like MLK in that she’s got a birthday and a birthday observed) in Connecticut.

Sam and Alexis are kindly putting up with Rudi and me for a few days. They’re very cool.