I'm a short-timer tonight. It's not just Friday but Super-Friday, the Friday before a week of vacation. I'm kind of useless for anything other than making sure I'm ready to bop on out of here first thing tomorrow.

When I was in the shoe business, we used to say that a shoe was a "Friday afternoon shoe" if it had lopsided eyelets, or if the sole was sewn on crooked. When we found one of these, we would sheepishly acknowledge to the customer that it was below our standards and then scramble around to come up with something better.

Well, I'll do the acknowledging tonight but I can't quite manage the scrambling. This is a Friday night entry, a haphazard slapdash jumble of slipshod offhand scribbles, scrawls, jots and squiggles. Claptrap and poppycock. Take all you want, we'll make more.

So am I ready? Do I seem ready?

What could I have forgotten? I stopped the paper and the mail. I informed the landlord and asked my next-door neighbor to keep an eye on the place. I paid all the bills, business and personal, that I (a) possibly could, and (b) absolutely had to. I've cleaned up my list, swatting all the nits and gnats.

I even prepared this special entry.

Where'd everybody go?

Packed and ready. Now all that's left is waiting through those last few hours. There's no point in going to bed tonight, since I'd have to set the alarm for 2:30, the veritable shank of the evening, so I could be out the door at 3:30. Then I pick up Mom, and we're leaving from Suzanne's at 4:00. Two nights on the road, and we get to Estes Park Monday.

I won't miss my job while I'm gone, or the noisy peacock next door, or the overgrown patch of weeds in my backyard, or the stinky well water. I'll miss my new chair. And, not to go all meta or anything, I'll miss this. I'll still be writing while I'm in Colorado, but I won't have the interaction with journalers and readers. This little adventure in uploading has become much more than I imagined possible, and I'm grateful for every email, link, nod and wink I've received. Even the silent readers who never let me know they're around are important to me and deeply appreciated.

If all goes as planned, bunt sign will return a week from Monday, with an entry dated June 18. All the missing dates will be filled in with vacation entries (which will not be required reading). If you want to be reminded when I get back, subscribe to the notify list (also not required, I'm pretty easy). Either way, I'll see you on the flip side.