Flying

It's Friday. Geez, it feels like the last Friday was, like, seven days ago. What the heck is up with that. Please excuse my lame attempt at a joke. At least I don't have to go to school today, this is one of those two-or-three-times-a-year-trips to Virginia, and we're flying there. Why are we flying? Why the heck are we flying to Virginia? All will be figured out soon, I suppose.

My mom, dad, and I weren't supposed to go to Virginia. In fact, Dad came home yesterday and announced, "We're flying to a beach in Virginia this weekend!" He said we're flying because he found a good deal, and flying would cost less than gas mileage. That must be one seriously sweet deal. I always thought Virginia sounded like Vagina. It was south of Pennsylvania, so it all made good sense to me when I was little. Great, we're flying to Vagina. At least it's the beach, even though it's January. 

It turns out he brought us all down to Virginia to celebrate Mom's birthday. I didn't see the point in going, it was just the three of us, but Mom deserves to have a good time. Even though we were stuck at the airport for all day on Friday and part of Sunday. It's the thought that counts, right?