Last weekend, Mo flew over to hang with me, and we each others’ dates for her coworker’s wedding. It’s been years since I attended a full Catholic mass- I forgot how beautiful it can be, and I noticed the distinct similarities (and differences) in their liturgy and ours. It was a beautiful wedding (aren’t they all?) and it’s nice to see two people really happy. Plus, Mo and I got to get all prettied up and go out without kids- that’s a WIN no matter how you spin it. I sure hope everyone has a friend like this. Mo has singlehandedly made me believe and trust in friendship again.
It’s been a brutal quarter so far with school. Four classes was probably a mistake, but I still have hope I can pull it off. This is part of why I’ve been scarce at my recreational writing- I’m tapped out most nights. I’m taking a class on teaching teens with ADD, a class on education and the abused child, a communications class and an elective on music theory. I know, I know… what was I thinking?
I have developed a serious problem with Diet Dr. Pepper. I am ashamed to admit it, but it’s keeping me afloat through the utter lack of sleep and candle-burning I’m doing right now.
This morning I turned on the tv, and there was Rick Bayless on PBS cooking with Julia Child. The foodie geek-girl in me sqeee’d with delight, and I nuzzled under the covers to watch him in her familiar Massachusetts peg-board kitchen. That show was followed by Lidia Matticchio Bastianich and I sunk deeper into my bed with delight as she made garlic cayenne potatoes and showed how to roll orchiette. Then the kids woke up and my reverie was over.
So the other morning, I woke up and threw the living room drapes open, only to be greeted with this enormous, disgusting bird poop on my window. It wasn’t there the night before… now someone tell me HOW a bird (the size of an albatross, judging by the size of that disgusting rorschach) shot that baby at a vertical window surface in the dark?? Seriously!? And GROSSS! The kids have been marveling at it and making up stories about how it happened.
I think my hamstring if finally healed. Okay, it’s been healed for a bit- but I need to get back to running. I can feel my legs atrophying and I miss the rush. You never, ever want to hear your hamstring make the loud noise mine made a few weeks ago. Bad. Very bad. All better now though. Back in the saddle.
Speaking of strange wildlife, this little critter usually greets me coming and going from campus for my Thursday night class. He’s quite brassy and seldom runs away- and just hangs out on his rock pile. I posted this pic to Facebook and the consensus (very scientific data gathering) was that he is definitely not a snake, and most likely a marmot. He’s the size of a cat, and quite beaver-ish looking, only not. There is a spring in that rock pile, so he’s living large. What think ye?
So a friend and I were talking the other day, and she commented how she finds great, brand-new, tags-still-on lingerie at DI thrift stores. I’ve been thinking about that and I think I have some things to say, but I’m still trying to figure out exactly what and exactly how I want to approach it. This is, I think, indicative of a much bigger issue that I am unfortunately very aware of. More later, I promise.
The boys got to attend a play with some good friends last night, and were given the grand-tour backstage after the show. The got to check out the prop department, the costumes, the hydraulics under the stage, the rigging and the lights. They were returned home completely amped and both wanting to become thespians. I’m totally okay with that, and loved seeing them so excited. Bean even made it through the whole play, with only minimal processing issues. A definite win.
While the boys were gone, I took Abby to our favorite hole-in-the-wall taqueria for dollar tacos. She received several compliments-as she does these days- on her coiffure, and she glows under the praise. She also killed a taco and enjoyed some spicy salsa, then asked me if we could go get manicures. We peeked in the window of the salon, but I told her manicures were more expensive than tacos, so we could skip to the car instead, and she was satisfied. I love five-year olds.
I’m looking at grad schools. Shhhhh. Not ready to talk about it yet.
Bean’s garden is coming right along. He even snuck some seed packets out and scattered them, without telling me. We should have an interesting melange of plants here in a few weeks. I love seeing him so excited about growing stuff. Now if he would just eat some of it… a mama can hope.
Hey mamas? A final thought: Go out and buy yourself something pretty- maybe lacy or ruffled or silky. Cut the tags off, and put it on. See how you feel. Remember how good it feels to be pretty- and you are. And then roll with it.