So I went, had fun, laughed, cried, experienced a whole range of emotions. Actually, it was wonderful.

I cried all the way home. In the airport, in the air, during my two and a half hour layover, and all through the last flight, too. I pulled it together enough to get home and into my room. Then Finnegan began again .....

I was right to cry. It was a weekend of many firsts for me, not the least of which was the first time a man had ever cooked for me. Not just supper, but breakfast in bed Sunday morning too.

Now, if I can just find a way to move through the aftermath as an adult. When I told him in some ways I feel like a turtle stampeding through peanut butter, he laughed and decided to steal that expression too.

So far he has absconded with Life sucks, get a helmet, and now It is like a turtle stampeding through peanut butter. I guess it is a compliment.