Happenings.

Jake is playing for Lyric Theatre's production of Xanadu. It's all fun and games, but to sum it all up, he doesn't get home until 10:00 every night. It has a three-week run. We're almost to the half way point. I'm hanging in there, but I'm tired. It's 8:29, and I have cozily been tucked into my bed for the last 15 minutes. What can I say, I like my room.

Today I muscled my way into the post office with two packages, birthday invitations, a birthday card, and two girls. I feel like I expended half of the day's energy in those 15 minutes. I kicked the door to open it for Cora who was in front of me. Kicked is an overstatement, it was more of a strong nudge with my foot because one arm was carrying Magnolia and the other one was carrying a club pack sized box of diapers and the other box. I overestimated the weight of the door. It was really loud when it hit the wall. Whatever. I don't think anyone cared when they saw me come in.

I might as well confess that the birthday card and one of the packages was for my mom's birthday, which is tomorrow. Which means I have epically failed at timing this one. And when I got back to the car, I realized I forgot to put the Mr. Goodbar in. Strike 2.

Cora has been writing stories at school. Well, she draws a pictures, and then tells her teacher the story of the picture while her teacher writes it down. They are amazing! But wouldn't you know, our scanner is being ridiculous, I mean, it's just straight up dead. I can't wait to scan them all to share.

To conclude:


Dear Salsa,

If loving you is wrong...

I refuse to be right.

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