Polly Vu Fran-Say?

It's official---we booked our flight to Europe, more specifically, to London and then to Paris. We, as in myself, Siebe, Lana and Mandy. I can't believe we finally did it and I've been giggling myself silly all night in excitement---and even doing that teenage-girl high-pitched squeal while dancing on my tip-toes in place.

Siebe and Lana came over earlier so we could choose our flights. Of course, I have stories.

First, we book my flight. I'm nervous, and I can't seem to make my fingers work properly on my laptop keys. As soon as I'm done, we begin to book Lana's flight. I'm about to type her name into the reservation form, and she blurts out, "Lana. Groves." Siebe and I pause a minute, and then burst out laughing. We know your name, Laney.

After she's booked, we call Mandy, and evidently wake her up from a deep sleep at 9:00 p.m. She's fumbling around to get her credit card, and we get to the part of the form where you submit your emergency contact info. I ask her, "Mandy, what about your emergency contact?" and she says, "my cell phone." Our spirits were already heightened with Lana's earlier blonde moment, and so this set us off in laughter for a full five minutes. Siebe says, "No Mandy, who do you want the airline to contact in case of emergency?" Mandy says, "my momma." Laughter ensues again. This time, I'm crying and doubled-over in stitches.

So now, the fun part begins. The planning process (a.k.a. my favorite part) shall commence and I've got to get crackin' on my gringo-French.

We've decided that we need a documentary filmmaker to accompany us on our trip, because let's face it---the four of us make good entertainment. Europe, get ready.