Fly Away Boy

As I type Ryan is gleefully tossing clothing bits into his suitcase and speaking of magnetized sushi, hitting the gym, and his secret identity. LA beckons him, a pretty little town with a pretty little leadership conference that he has to attend for business. It's the first time I will be left all by my lonesome in two months, and there's a fissure in my gut that I can't seal up. This week holds the dual challenge of the Pinkies-up Girls. Normally I wouldn't fret over their tidy ways, my overt belching and unbathed skin normally send them into a tailspin and they can't remember which fork they throw first. But without a Ryan to come home to, it hardly seems worth the battle.