It's fun to sneak into summer camp sometimes.
But why is that whenever I come home from any event, no matter how fun it was, my response about the hows of the trip is always "Fine."?
Perhaps this time it's because I am finding myself in a particularly responsible position of planning the birthday party of a friend. She is away learning Arabic with the future government secret agents of the world, as we plan a Great Gatsby gala to celebrate another year of Alexandra*. Responsibility bites, but in the name of flappers, bathtub whiskey and linen pants, I will address real live paper invites, learn how to make gazpacho and taste sparkling juices until my stomach could float away.
*She says she will go by this next year, so I'm giving it a test drive.
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