BusyBeBackSoon and Happy V-Day.

vintage-valentinesAuntie Heather gets here Thursday, and so I shall be off family-ing for the weekend. The plan is to hang out at home a lot, kiss and tickle the kiddies, jump on the bed, bake some cookies, take a bubble bath the most excellent foamy Elmo squirt soap, and knit a snowflake hat. Easy peasey.

Thursday is going to be insane. Beanie has a Valentine party at school, I am cooking for twenty+ at the Bishop’s Storehouse, my quilt group is meeting in the evening, I have several blocks to sew before the meeting, I have valentines to make, carpool to run, a sick kiddo, and the insurance adjuster wants us to bring the car in… One of those things has to give, and I think the car will be the loser in that eenie-meeie miney-mo game. Oh, and I suppose I should clean up Auntie Heather’s room, since the boys have been using her bed as a boxing ring. The sheets, pillow and quilts have been forts, landslides, boxing gloves and various other castles in sky. She might like a made bed. Maybe. Hopefully there will be enough leftovers from the BSH that I don’t have to do dinner. David: getting kids ready, breakfast and bus-stop trips. He is also changing the sheets on the Boxing Ring.

It’s after 1:00 in the morning- I need another Excedrin and a diet Coke if my master plan is not going to be foiled. Surly something else will come up…

p.s. If I haven’t returned your phone call, don’t feel bad- the list is long and distinguished.

p.p.s. Have a happy V day. Ptttttlth.

8 thoughts on “BusyBeBackSoon and Happy V-Day.

  1. I hope you get love for yourself out of that somewhere in there. I’m hoping for the same. (love the v-day horsey- totally reminds me of my childhood.)

  2. 6:36- it’s been far FAR worse of a day that I had imagined. Hard, frantic, run run run run run… David is feeding the kids dinner, Abby is crying, Beanie hates dinner, I sewed EVERY SINGLE SEAM wrong on a quilt block I was making. Oh, and PMS hit. Big Time.

    Of to quilt group, then the airport. David is fending for himself with cleaning the house and getting the monsters in bed.

    Then to the airport…in our wrecked-up p.o.c. whooptie. Fan. Tas. Tic.

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