Laura and Amanda go home today. They are my eldest's two best friends from New Jersey, and they've spent the last week with us. Yes, sleeping on the floor or in crowded beds in our small apartment, driving around with us to run errands and take kids to and from school, listening to my griping about last minute moving details. That's how good of friends they are.
We did the sightseeing stuff with them -- took them to the River Walk, the Alamo, the Japanese Tea Garden and the Botanical Gardens, the very cool outdoor La Cantera Mall -- and last night we ate at Texas Pride BBQ, a place we saw featured on a Food Network show right after they got here.
They also spent a lot of time at the apartment pool. And they watched "High School Musical 3", kind of for old time's sake (even while they complained about how unrealistic it is . . . didn't bother them five years ago!).
They joked all day yesterday about the waiter at the fondue place telling them when they left to "have a good strip . . . uh, sorry . . . I was thinking 'have a good stay' and 'have a good trip' . . . um, yeah." Silly boy.
But mostly, they talked, as only teenage girls can. They've been friends since our family started homeschooling and joined a co-op -- my eldest's second grade year (she's a senior now, remember). They've kept in touch through texting and Skype for the five years we lived in Iowa. Last spring, Amanda chose a trip to visit Leslie in lieu of a graduation party . . . and Laura begged her parents to let her come along.
That's how good of friends they are.
And today, they go back. I felt bad that we weren't more settled here so we could give them a richer San Antonio experience. But really, they weren't here to see Texas. They were here to see my daughter. (Although they liked Texas, too.)
All the hashtags Laura's been putting on her FB pictures kind of sum up the trip: #wearealltogetheragain