This morning, at 4 AM, while the surrounding world slept, I brought Cece back to the airport. A week earlier I’d picked her up at the same gate. Both the greeting and the goodbye were short. It’s good to be short, I think. It seems like long farewells are for last speeches, and this was, hopefully, not the last.

Drove home. Tired. Wearing the SOUTH OF THE BORDER shirt I’d gone mini-golfing in yesterday, and the empty intersections seem strange and dreamlike. The hanging green light, a glowing orb, stark against the night; blacker as it goes on, reaching beyond the town and last traces of light pollution. I like it here. I like it, right off the highway, blocks from the airport. I like the shops that close at six and the ever-ready Waffle House. I like that we’re the eternal road trip stop.

I’m writing this entry in my head as I pull into the driveway. I turn off The Love Language; kill the headlights. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been so tired. We’ve been going full steam for days. Put my head against the steering wheel, close my eyes, just for a minute.

This won’t be written in any obvious order. It’s more a collection of thoughts than a story. It’s just how I feel right now.

Cezanne, when I first saw her, looks more a Cezanne than a Ceec, a Cece, a Cez. She is slightly taller than me and a good deal skinnier, with long raven hair that she twists when she is shy or nervous. She looks nothing like her pictures when she smiles or talks, but exactly like them when her mouth is closed and she’s thinking. The first two days we make friendly and polite conversation. She apologizes for needing to use my hairdryer. It’s fine. I hope my kids aren’t too loud. They aren’t. We have breaks in our discussion where we just sit and look at each other, and make anxious noises, like that chuckle-giggle where you rack your mind for the next topic.

By the third morning, she opens her door and we are BFF. “You won’t believe the dream I had!” she gasps, and I’m all, “ME TOO! Let me tell you about mine after yours! And does your mouth taste weird?” and she’s all, “YEAH. Is there any pizza leftover?” and I’m all,

“PIZZA!” and we talk over each other, blah blah blah, fast; like speeding trains of thought colliding. When we sit next to each other, we sit NEXT to each other, so our elbows bump together when we watch TV. By the last day, we’re good enough friends to ignore the other. She goes out on the back porch to talk to Jhon for a half hour, and I sit in the living room writing on my laptop. It’s comfortable.

Monday, Michelle and my mom come. Michelle is getting over a sickness which apparently infected the rest of the Virginia family. We all go out to the mall. Michelle is hilarious. Michelle tells us that my mom doesn’t think she’s as funny as I make her out to be in entries. Cece thinks Michelle is that funny. What Ceec thinks about Michelle: her delivery is perfect, she’s thinner in real life, and her boobs are “incredible”.

(Michelle’s reply: “Yeah, you can’t turn this off!”)

My mom is my mom: sweet, funny, kind, and the Straight Man to our jokes. She buys us matching tie headbands. I miss them both so much it hurts. The day is sunny and bright. The kids play near the mall fountain while Shelly and Mom pick out a vegan dinner for the night. Pesto pasta.

They prepare it later in my kitchen. I take bad pictures with my new camera. I still kind of suck with it.

Shelly and Mom leave after dinner for the (very) long ride home. My mom gets sick on the way back. It takes them five hours due to frequent stops. I feel horrible: had no clue that would happen, and while I love their company, would not have invited them if I knew it was a possibility.

We spend a lot of the visit reading Cece’s forums and discussing The Drama on it. “So much DRAMA,” we sigh at each other.

We also eat a lot of Domino’s pizza. Or breadsticks for me, with marinara sauce. Or cheesybread for Cece, with ranch dressing. Okay. We don’t really eat any actual pizza.

I’ve become borderline-obsessed with “The Office” this month, and have converted Ceec as well. We watched the season finale together.

BECCA: Ohhh, he’s gonna walk in while she’s talking– I’m calling it!–

TV: Pam!– Oh, sorry… Are you free for dinner tonight?

CEEC: AW!

BECCA: AW!

TV: Yes… All right…then it’s a date.

CEEC: Oh my God! Jim and Pam got together!

BECCA: I totally called it!

TV: … I’m sorry. What was your question?

Team Beesley!

(And yes, I might be going to the convention. And when I say might, I mean almost for positive.)

Jason works late every night on an autonomy project (longest was a 21-hour shift: 8 AM to 5 AM), and takes Friday off. We decide to go to the beach.

Go out and buy bathing suits for the kids and J. I thought I was one of those moms who thought toddlers in bikinis are skanky, but I guess I’m not. Addie’s is pink with white crochet. IT IS SO CUTE. Decide on Wrightsville Beach, since it’s the closest and has the best weather. 70 degrees when we get there. Patches of cloud, patches of sunshine.

I didn’t think I was a beach person. Really, to my recollection, neither Jason or I liked beaches. We were going mostly for the kids, and because it was something we’d never done together. So it was a huge surprise when everyone had a good time. It was– wonderful. It was sandcastles, Addie running for the water’s edge, the faint smell of suntan lotion, seagulls overhead, Jason putting Eli on his shoulders and letting the waves crash over them, messages in the sand, the shifting surf. The next morning we looked online for beach houses, just in case we won the lottery. Good to be prepared.

Also: all that Dominos? Plus bikinis? Not. feeling. so. sexy. We kept our shirts on the whole beach trip, and, judging by the pics, I should have kept the shorts on too. BOO. I made a promise to myself to start exercising along with the vegan diet, because I’m not allowing myself another beach or pool outing in anything but swimsuit.

Yesterday we went to this place called Frankie’s. I’d never been before– it was a huge entertainment center; with climbing nets, arcade games, go karts, rides, and miniature golf. Golf was fun. We didn’t keep score. We didn’t need to: Jason won, and Eli didn’t get the game. Addie lost her ball in the bushes six times. Up next: bumper boats.

So, we’re hanging out in line, and this kid– maybe 10– gets in his boat and starts spraying everyone who’s waiting. He soaks the front of my shirt. The whole line of people is like, “CUT IT OUT!” This kid is just pointing and laughing, all sinister and obnoxious. And spraying. Okay. Strike one.

Part of me feels bad for targeting him (because, hey, he’s over a decade younger), but then they blow the whistle and he aims his jet at Addie, who sobs hysterically when the water hits her, and STRIKE TWO. AND THREE. YOU ARE OUT KID. I manage to do a decent job of steering the boat and we totally soak that kid. He’s angry, It’s not funny when it happens to me!

After we get off, Jason says he and Eli got him pinned and sprayed him too. Then I feel kind of bad. Then I look at Addie again, who cried so hard she got hiccups, and I kind of don’t.

Ceec and I go on the Sky Glider, which looks kind of lame and Kindergarten, until we get on it and then suddenly we’re two stories in the air and going backwards and I feel like I’m going to throw up. Cece is laughing really hard next to me, and I start laughing, and we try to wave at Jason on the ground. And then I try to gesture to Jason to TURN AROUND!, Elias is climbing that utility pole! And we spin in big, swooping circles through the air, and it’s awesome.

The adults decided to stay up all night and watch movies, all the way until 4 AM when Ceec had to leave for the airport. We pick out the Worst Movie Ever: ‘The Truth About Love‘. It’s so bad it’s good. Or maybe just bad. If you need reason to see this film, here it is– Jennifer Love Hewitt has phone sex; except it is less sexy than you would think, and even if you think it would be completely unsexy, it’s less sexy than THAT, because she does it in a fake stilted British accent and drops her voice to Man Level. I fall asleep with five minutes left in the film.

Have a terrible nightmare wherein my father dies and our house is surrounded by drug lords who fire guns at the walls and windows. (This is partly the fault of the insanely good “CSI: NY” season finale. Oh em gee. Hands-down the best finale so far.) Wake up. Glad to be awake. Take Ceec to the plane.

She was a perfect guest. By the way. She cleaned up the dishes, asked before taking anything (even getting a drink), offered to watch the kids so I could sleep, and was up for any outing. All my girlfriends are great houseguests. I’ve ended up with the best ones, honestly.

Miss her already. Elias misses her too. He had the official role of Cezanne Announcer; and would walk around the house, “Cici is wakin’ up! Cici gonna eat bweakfast! Cece is in da bafwoom! Cici went owtside!” All. day.

I don’t know what else to say. Feeling a little sick, and very tired, and completely out of paragraph material. Inspiration over. Story done.

I have a favor to ask of anyone who makes it this far, and that is just for you to comment and say, “Hi! I’m reading! And I’m NOT CRAZY.” Ceec and I had a handful of discussions and shared stories this week about Who’s Out There Online, and it’s been weighing on my mind. Even a year or two ago, I knew most of the visitors to this site– now it’s about five percent. It would just be nice to attach a name to the people who are looking at my pictures and reading about my life. Heh. Fair deal? Let’s hope.