Nearing the end of week two and we are in desperate need of a weekend.  Legos and pjs are on tap for tomorrow with an evening at church and an empty Sunday stretching out before us.  Can’t wait.
Am sick of thinking about and writing regarding the recent school change, but have these random thoughts to throw at you in a queer stream of consciousness:

Everyone needs a pair of red shoes.  I’m as sure of that as I am that skorts and tapered leg jeans are bad ideas.  Just look.
I think I nursed Lucy this morning for the last time.  Mostly ok with that, but since she is likely our last am a bit nostalgic.  It’s time.
I realized Dan and I have a song and dance routine we do every morning.  Every morning.  
His alarm goes off at 5:30 (he puts it across the room so he has to get out of bed to snooze it). 
He gets up and snoozes it.
Nine minutes later it goes off again.
This repeats three times until this conversation takes place:
me: “Last time, please?”
him: “Ok.”
me: “Seriously.”
Every morning.  Except Saturday and Sunday.  Different routine on those days.  No less frustrating.

It’s entirely likely that Leviticus is the boringest (not a real word) book in the Bible.  Even God must get bored reading Leviticus.

Peanut butter is complicated.  It’s a great source of protein, but sticks to kids like napalm.  Can never figure out if it’s worth the trouble.
Lucy has been bringing me tampons several times a day.  I just figured out that she thinks they are string cheese.  
This time in my life is teaching me that God can fill a need that nothing else can.  Not the hombre sweater from Banana Republic.  Not chocolate.  Not books.  Not even Dan or my kids.  Only God.  It has to be that way.
I have become so spoiled with eggs that I pitch the ones that have even the tiniest bit of poop on them into the coop and the hens slurp up all the insides then peck at the shell.  I can afford to be picky.  It’s weird that they like eggs.  Wonder if they like chicken?  Wonder what they think it tastes like?
Peter got his Lego minifigures yesterday.  He bravely went off to this new school seven days on the bus with no fuss.  That was good enough in my book.  Yesterday after school he hit a wall and needed a pick me up.  First grade is a lot of work.  I made him try on his new winter coat that came yesterday.  He hates doing that.  He loved finding Con Dooku and Bobba Fett in the pocket.  Good boy.  The only thing I found in my pocket yesterday was some lint and a barrette.  
Took the kids fishing last Sunday.  Tess caught the only fish.  Grant lost Dan’s sunglasses which made him feel really badly.  Dan, of course, took it all in stride and told Grant that sunglasses are not precious. Though they are very expensive.  Bummer.  Then we watched a couple get engaged right across the pond.  I cried then asked if they wanted me to take a picture of them.  Magical.  Totally worth a pair of sunglasses to get outdoors, have a picnic and watch someone launch a marriage.
Peter told me he’s practicing at school for a musical to celebrate Halloween.  Here we go.
Driving today I realized the little oil change sticker puts me at three months over my due date.  Is that bad?  It made me think of the new restaurant I saw this week called Lube and Steak.  An oil change place combined with a steak house.  Which means one of two things:
Either you’re getting your oil changed in a kitchen
You’re eating a steak cooked in a garage.
Neither sounds appetizing.  This has to be a mans idea.
Have a happy weekend.  I’m praying for a rain storm here that will force us to stay in our comfy cozies and play all weekend.  We need that.  The whirling dervish of destruction and I spent two mornings cleaning this week so we can totally devote ourselves to fun for the weekend.  And since I’m thirty five years old and don’t have to sleep on Saturday nights with pink spongy rollers in my hair, it’s looking good.

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