The Belittling of the Little America Tour
Remember the excitement over my Little America Tour announcement, soon followed by God mocking and taunting me? Well, once again The Big Guy wins.
The Little America Tour has been whittled and belittled to two shows: Raleigh and Atlanta. No DC or NYC, Boston or Phillie. No visits with my beloveds … no meetups with beloved bloggers … not nearly enough nights dancing to my dearly beloveds.
Frickin’ sucks, doesn’t it? The reasons are many, but only a few are shared:
• The car is still teasing me with a Check Engine light that blinks on and off like Rudolph’s nose.
• Financial unexpecteds have drained the pennies my mechanic left in my savings account.
• I forgot my parents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary falls during that first week, and I want to spend that evening with my mom.
But I’ll get to see my favorite boys with Favorite Boy. And I’ll be dancing my ample a** off in the Atlanta pit.
Still … I’m cuing up “Everybody Hurts,” throwing myself on the bed like Lana Turner in a Douglas Sirk flick, and sobbing like a little girl.
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