Call the Mayor. Hang up the banners. Align the parade route.
I'm coming home.
Brittain and I are driving to Arkansas. She is dropping me off in Little Rock. Someone should pick me up from there and I should be back in the grand dame of them all, Russellville, by Saturday morning.
On our road trip Brittain is pumped to do the following: drink a whole six pack of Mt. Dew on her own, stop at the Arkansas border and take a picture with the welcome sign, drive past the Clinton library, meet an Arkansas celebrity (I know people) and have dinner with Reggie and Laurie. It's scary how excited she is about this.
Mark your calendars, it ain't Labor Day unless I'm there. And guess what? I'll be there.
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