Not the real Holland.
Although, that would be amazing.
I am heading north to see my fave Hollas, which somehow got auto corrected to Holland.
So now we call it our Holland trip.
Dorks? Yes. Not ashamed.
Mel is our hostess for the adventures. She is driving past two closer airports just to pick us up at the shady airport that Sketchy Air flies to. She has promised to make monkey bread. That alone will get me on a plane. Yes please.
Heather M. may or may not give birth to her fourth child while we are there. That would be lovely if he choose to make an appearance during Holland fest. But if she doesn't I want her to help me start my next quilt.
Heather G. is bringing her snackable baby girl Gianna, who may just be the second happiest baby girl I have ever met (right after bald baby, obvs.) Love her. She also is solely responsible for my Stella & Dot obsession.
Marta, my favorite resident of the Show Me State (Missouri, for those of you who don't know your state nickname trivia) will be with us in spirit and with us in Pottery Barn Dip. Sad face. Sad face. Marta, it will not be the same without you. Seriously. I want a Star Trek machine to get you there.
We have grand plans of shopping, eating, crafting, eating, being dorks, eating, and enjoying all that Holland has to offer.
I love these girls. We forged friendships over Twitter. We built wells together. They are my hollas. They are everything that is good about these here internets. It is going to be a really good few days.
Unless my plane crashes...
$19.99 each way?
That can't be good, right?