There is nothing like a good weekend. There is only one way to judge whether a weekend is good or really good: the after effect. If I feel like I can barely get up on Monday morning, the weekend was great. If I feel like I have been hit by a truck on Sunday, but will be okay by Monday, the weekend is pretty good. If on Sunday, I am still looking for things to do, but know that it is over and the week is about to begin, the weekend was good. This weekend was a pretty good weekend. I told John yesterday while we were shopping at the Super Walmart in Dahlonega, that I felt like I had a hangover, he said it was because we had been playing all weekend. From there we walked around the square in Dahlonega because it felt like a festival had hit the square there were so many people. When we got back to the farm, I took a well deserved Sunday nap and felt much better once I woke. When I woke up this morning to Morning Edition, I was happily restored to my usual beautiful self. I now know why they call it beauty sleep.

Megan and boy came and stayed at the farm both Friday and Saturday night. That is great except I forget that Meg is the true best girlfriend. While growing up I was the one who stayed up until four in the morning and only went to sleep when there was no one left to talk to, I am not that girl today: Megan is. She played backgammon, she ate potato chips, she drank tea, she asked questions, she even jumped on the bed. . .thus I was up until 2:30 am one night and 3 am the next. Megan doesn't have that internal alarm that goes off yet. She still has the ability to sleep until noon with no problem. I don't know when that alarm started happening for me, but sleeping in for me is ten and that is only when the night has been like the nights this weekend. How did I end up being the uncool girlfriend? How did I end up being the first asleep? How did I end up being the girl thinking, "if this chick doesn't stop, I am going to have to get ugly?" I am the cool girl who can do anything. I am the cool girl who can experience everything. I am the one who goes to bed at four, is up at eight and keeps going. . .well truth be told, I would go home to the folks and they would want to kill me because I was such a grouch and mean spirited. Dad would swear that I would never go spend the night again (then next weekend I would go anyway. . .yeah my Dad is a softy). But who cares? My girlfriends all thought I was cool and that was what was really important! What is neat today is that even though I fell asleep before Meg did, she still thinks I am cool. She thinks it is more fun trying to keep me awake than if I had stayed awake and tried to think of something to do. The other thing that happened as a result of this game Meg made out of this weekend is that I ended up having a pretty good weekend. Nothing like a little love and friendship and being jumped on while under the covers to have a story to tell, to give me a pretty good weekend.