Wednesday, May 1, 2013
I Know I Should Go, But Dang Do I Want to Stay
So I need to move, for sure. And dusk is my favorite time to walk.
But Husband also brought me a PEOPLE magazine, and there's just a little cold white wine left in the bottle, and I'm exhausted, as I always am by this point in the day . . . sitting with my feet up before good Wednesday night TV sounds attractive beyond words.
Oh, well. I'm not Catholic but I've got guilt to burn, so off I go.
But first I'm blogging, because I am just that dutiful.
(And I will do anything to keep from climbing Heart Attack Hill, apparently. Bride Boy was extremely scornful of my hill, though he never actually walked it; we simply drove up and down it 25 times, while I pointed out how steep and endless it really is, while he scoffed and mocked and made sport. Well, he's young and fit and runs marathons and all, maybe it really did look like nothing to him.)
(I'm missing him; a week ago tonight we were eating artichoke dip and laughing uproariously. But he left me a little something-something, a lingering raspy cough that refuses to [a] turn into a cold or [b] go away, and now Mimosa is complaining of a sore throat, which is awful because she's singing with the high school Pops this weekend, so please send us good healthy throat thoughts.)
Sending a shout-out and much love to two birthday girls: KT in California and Sleepy Susan Kerry here in Massachusetts! I hope your days were full of joy and delight, and also maybe pie.
OK – off to scale Cardiac Crest on a quest for clementines. Also butter and chicken patties and edamame hummus. O how I adore Trader Joe's.