(Insert that upside down women symbol thingy here)

Big Shooter has been planning a Big Girl Sleep-Over at the lake in celebration of my fourth decade. (Y'all know where my tongue is planted with that loaded statement, right? That's correcto-mungo, in my fat cheek.)
So far he's done an awesome job.
He's come up with several things. (I don't want to share them though because many of the guests read this here blog occasionally.)
But, he's a little dubious about what to have available to pass the time.
He wanted me to ask you Girls.
His words were, "Ask the other side for me please. Tell them I need girly. I need racy. I need nerdy. I need funny. I need emotional...and apparently I need ovaries to plan this kind of party."
Instead of agreeing with his last statement, I agreed to ask you all this instead:
"What ideas do you have in mind for a girls night in?"
He says, "Thanks. You're saving my hide...I mean pride."

Love Note to my Big Shooter: I am not sure whether to laugh or cry at your sincerity of my party planning. On one hand I am crackin' up watchin' you sweat it out. And on the other hand, I am touched at the thoughtfulness. But honestly, I'm mostly crackin' up. If you could see the discomfort, the agony of dealing with all these women, the stress of choosing the correct colors, a menu, the logistics of that many women sleeping under one roof... if you could see it, you'd be on the floor too.
Thank you Big Shooter. I love you.
Love. You.