My parents are getting ready to celebrate their fiftieth wedding anniversary here in a couple of weeks (September second - let me know if you need the address to send a card. Send a card, people. Seriously. Even if you don't know my folks, you know me, and don't you think they deserve some sort of kindness from strangers for putting up with me?) and while I really wanted to throw a reunion party here, that plan was summarily dismissed some time ago.
Whatever. It's only my sweet childhood memories of my grandparents' fiftieth that are being ruined by not being able to give my parents the same joy.
So my siblings decided that the best thing to do would be to go to Vegas. Yes. I still can't think of a better place for my older, seventy-ish-year-old folks to have a good time. Momma, watch that hip! No, I don't think the stripper pole revue is what's affecting your pacemaker. Dad, stop it! Seriously, STOP DROOLING. This is not The Girls Next Door.
I'm sure you can see the appeal. So, apparently the plan is to go the weekend of October 22, which is so close to the actual anniversary that it totally makes sense!
My siblings (and their respective families) both live in Southern California, which is essentially a light-beam away from Las Vegas, and the pulling tractor beam is because plane tickets are apparently $29, the drive itself is tolerable, and the discounts available online and in print papers (snicker) are even better than the plane tickets.
However, if you live substantially further east than Vegas, plane tickets about about add-a-four-to-the-front-the-California prices, the drive is unbelievable, and there are no coupons in the paper. So, no, I believe that GPOM and I will have to sit this one out.
Unless I win the Suits contest sponsored by USA. Then, maybe. I'll check with my creditors.
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