Tomorrow, I'm going to Vegas for a long weekend. Hallelujah! I can almost hear the dice hitting the felt on the craps table as I type this. I'm going with friends, and we're going to the spa and eating at fancy restaurants and doing a hell of a lot of people watching. And if I have any say in the matter, we WILL be going to the Liberace Museum. FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAABULOUS!
And then I'm taking the rest of the week off for Thanksgiving, etc. I haven't taken a whole week off of work just for fun in over four years. Four freakin' years!
My mom's actually going to tear herself away from the depressing confines of the hospital to come and spend Thanksgiving with me. We're going to eat lunch at the swanky Driskill Hotel (and I'm bringing a couple of my orphan friends with me), and then sit around and groan about how full we are.
But then the crazy shit begins.
You see, I am adopting a baby girl from Russia. I started the process in earnest last April, after much soul searching and being scared to death about the whole idea of it. But then I realized that my fear of the unknown was paralyzing me, and I decided I didn't want to live that way. So I went for it--submitted my application, started down the looooooooong and expensive paperwork trail, and yesterday, I got the call: "We've got a referral for you. A little girl. 5 1/2 months old." The long and short of it is that I'll be going over to Russia--Vladivostok--in the next few weeks to meet her. Oh my GOD!! All of these months of thinking about this whole adoption thing in a very abstract way, and now, it's about to be a reality.
I want to see her face, feel her skin. I want to hold her and look into her eyes. I cannot believe that this is really happening. I'm going to be an emotional basket case for the next few weeks.
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