So. I've had three glasses of wine in four hours, plus lots of fun company (Hi Jen & Dave & Joy & Kyle! You're awesome!), and I've finalized myour trip to Europe this summer. Even though I've obsessively painstakingly, lovingly researched the logistics & cost of this fabulous 40th birthday extravaganza vacation (including variations on London + Paris vs. London + Paris + Amsterdam vs. London + Paris + Amsterdam + multiple locations in the vicinity, et cetera) for many months, somehow I got to the final JUST BOOK IT phase without double-checking where and when we'll be flying in & out. So apparently we're leaving from Seattle (which is closer to where my parents/child caretakers are, fine) but flying back into Portland (15 minutes from our home) then on to Seattle. Huh. Yet I've f*cking booked it. Finally.
And so. I'm excited yet strangely dubious. I'll perhaps find out I've scheduled us to do something oddly European. Oh well. It's paid for, I have a job, I'm turning 40. It's all good.