"We go together...."

There is nothing like a reunion with your theatre friends. 

Of this I know too well.  I have experienced it in London, and then again this weekend. 

Cause nothing says "class" like bathroom mirror selfies

Seeing the people who have pushed me, challenged me and learned with me for so many years; laughing over stage doors and dressers. Telling stories about how far we’ve come, and how far we’ve yet to go. Singing Rent at the top of our lungs. Crying tears of heartache and shared sorrow. That is a type of love that is very, very hard to find.

I've known these girls for 20+ years

Sometimes going home is really hard, and sometimes, it’s really special.

My friends are so crazy talented, I can't even tell you!

Like when your childhood best friend sings a jazzy/blues version of “If I Were A Bell” (it was my audition song for 7,000 years) and the Rizzo to your Frenchie announces in the midst of our friends’ concert that she is pregnant.

I spy a mama to be! 

When you have a heart to heart with your big sister where you learn so much about yourself, about your relationship and about what it means to be family that you get in your car and are just floored by the hand you’ve been dealt.

SISTERS!!!!

And sometimes, sometimes, you find yourself left home alone with an 80 inch TV and no supervision, which obviously means LES MIS KAROKE PARTY.

"Look down!" (and see, the Diet Coke)

That’s not too bad either.

However, when the Scottish girl sits in the sun for two hours and becomes a roasted peanut—that, that is not so good.

Proof.

Effing tan lines. Again. 

Pass the aloe.

ps. It’s like Barcelona Burn all over again—my timing, is nothing short of perfect.

What did y'all do over the weekend? Does going home scare you as much as it scares me?