Randomnessity? Yes. Randomness + necessity. It’s what I feel today’s blog must surely be – necessarily random. It’s a new word. Use it, and let’s see if we can make it stick.
Friday + paycheck = smiley me.
This morning both girls were in our bed. Before her eyes were even open, Aubrey was calling, “RahRah! RahRah!,” which is Aubreyspeak for “Sarah.” She crawled over to where Sarah was still snoring and hovered over her jabbering on about everything and nothing as if Sarah were an active participant in the conversation. I so wish I knew what she said.
The new Scentsy catalog is so exciting. Can a catalog truly be exciting? Trust me. Yes, it can. It IS. I can’t wait to host my first party with the new Spring/Summer catalog!
Did I mention that today is Friday?! W00T!
I truly accomplished something this week. It might not be a big deal to most people, but it was a big deal to me. I have a set of pictures I snapped and edited that I’m really proud to claim as my own. They aren’t perfect, and they aren’t what many people would want when it comes to pictures of their kids. But I love every single one of them – not because they are pictures to be proud of but because they are moments to be proud of. Every time I look at them (and I have looked at them at least a dozen times this week), I remember our only-we-know-the-joke laughs, feeling Sarah’s hand tighten into a death-grip as sidewalk gave way to boardwalk, the lady who yelled, “Show ‘em how it’s done, girl” and the hilarity coming from every inch of Sarah as she showed me her best rock star moves. It was a moment. Our moment. She might never remember that day when she gets older. She is, after all, only newly-turned-four. But I have no doubt I will fondly remember our afternoon together until my last breath has been drawn and will find it no less rewarding or significant than I do at this moment.
Yes, after I wrote that, I paused to look at my rock star princess one more time. Have I mentioned how crazy I am about that kid?
I can’t wait to take Aubrey to do similar things when she gets older. Will she be Rock Star Princess 2.0 or will she be our shy, reserved child (doubtful!)? When she can pick her own clothes, will she want to wear spinnin’ dresses and tappin’ shoes or will she be our sporty, knows-no-boundaries girl? I can’t wait to find out, but I’m also in no rush for her to grow up. Every day she is changing and growing. I’m glad to see it, but it makes me sad to know my baby isn’t going to be a baby much longer. I’ll keep her little a while longer and be quite okay with that. Her best poses and rock star moves can wait for now.
Friday night, and all I can think of is getting home to get some things done so I have uninterrupted time on my treadmill. When did my life take such a fabulous turn?
I need a pedicure.
My yard is so sprinky right now. Yes. Sprinky. It’s another new concept to add to the list of words I think we should try to make stick. The yard is full of Spring, and there are hints of pink at every turn. Spring + Pink + My Yard = Sprinky. I bet if I took a picture of my yard in the morning and another in the afternoon, I would see something new in that short period of just a few hours. Oh, Spring, can’t you hang around a little longer? You tease me with your sprinkiness, and then you’re gone as quickly as you appeared. Boo. Pout. Hmph. Now, I’m not feeling particularly sprinkiness-cheered. Maybe I’ll sit aimlessly in my yard this weekend and bond with the sprinky bits of joy around me. (If you know me, you will know that aimless sitting is not ususally on my agenda, but it does sound like a fun idea, doesn’t it?!)
My Uncle Curt called today. He never calls. When I saw the 501 area code, I couldn’t imagine who could be calling me, but there he was on the other end of the line. Very odd but very welcome. He never remembers his dreams, but lately he has dreamed twice that Pap-pa wants him to go to the green building behind our house and get something very specific – a glass insulator. He will be in the area Sunday and is going to stop by and trek down to the shed to complete his otherworldly assignment. I can’t wait to see what Pap-pa says he is supposed to do with it once he gets it.
“I don’t care if Monday’s blue.
Tuesday’s gray and Wednesday, too.
Thursday I don’t care about you.
It’s Friday. I’m in love!”
We’re making personal pizzas tonight. Sarah and Aubrey are going to prepare their own. Pictures will definitely follow, but I’m not sure if they will be more of their pizza masterpieces or of the without-a-doubt-going-to-happen kitchen catastrophe.
Someone I know through friends and Scentsy experienced a tremendous, heartbreaking loss this week when her son died unexpectedly. Please pray for her. From what I understand, she is a strong person, but something like this is never easy to handle, no matter how solid your emotional foundation may be.
Our tax return has been rejected once again. Sarah Mixon is her Social Security card-verified name. Sarah Johnson is not her name. We changed it back to Johnson on the return. Still rejected. We changed it back to Mixon. STILL rejected. What do you want from me, IRS? A DNA sample to prove she is who I say she is? Work it out, IRS and Social Security. You’ve had nearly eight months for a single change to be communicated. The four-year-old child in question is more organized than you. Get moving.
“Monday you can fall apart.
Tuesday, Wednesday break my heart.
Oh, Thursday doesn’t even start.
It’s Friday. I’m in love!”
Can it be that we have no plans this weekend? I hesitate to type those words for fear they will not be true.
Have a great weekend, kiddies. Rain or shine, you can still have fun. Make it a good one.
And Sunday always comes too late.
But Friday never hesitates…
It’s Friday. I’m in love!“