This weekend I stayed up as late as my poor tired eyes would let me. I didn't want to miss out on talking with my best friend while we sat on the wicker furniture I got from her back when she moved to Brooklyn. Going to bed would end it all. The morning would come, and we would have to scurry off to a soccer game. She and Geoffrey would go to visit her family before heading back to the city. There would be no more rope swinging and cocktail drinking. No laughing, complaining, and congratulating. Each visit ends with hopes and plans for other visits that are always too far away.
Saturday evening brought us to a beautiful wedding of my beautiful friend. The best crab cakes ever and a taco truck on the beach, with a playground, all accompanied by an amazing band. Oh, and a margarita station. I love parties, and weddings are the best parties. If only my wet blanket sisters hadn't ended my evening so soon, I would have danced myself to exhaustion. As it was, I realized that a night on the town to see live music needs to happened sooner rather than later. The next time, sans kids (and sisters).