I tried to schedule a meeting on Monday and my boss looked at me like I'm retarded.
"I don't know about you, but I'm not working on a holiday."
Which is why I've decided to get the hell out of town this weekend. And I believe I've roped Tar Baby into going with me. Thus far, our options are $30 nicotine-fragranced room in a Reno Casino, stained-bedspread beachside motel in Half Moon Bay or some type of organic food exploration project in the central valley. My hope is to mingle with locals, buy some type of hanging plant or hideous jewelry, make a new friend and eat something you can only get wherever the hell we go.
That's pretty much it.
I should come up with some kind of budget, but since all I've gotten back from Tara is an "I'm in!" e-mail, I will wait to consult with her.
Also, in my research I've discovered THIS PLACE which is where I now plan to have all of my forbidden rendezvous...