I have approximately twelve or so minutes to write this post before the little person upstairs decides naptime is over. So, I thought I'd confess a few things on this Wednesday seeing how a blog is really just a modern diary for technologically hip adults. And, as everyone knows, diaries are for confessing.
(spoiler alert) Last evening, while being forced to watch the last installment of "Lonesome Dove," I cried a little when Augustus McCrae died. I also dreamed about cowboys and the open range all night.
I just ate strawberries with real (as in, I made it with whipping cream and confectioner's sugar in my Kitchenaid) whipped cream (in honor of Wimbledon, of course) AND then proceeded to eat Nutella from the jar. I estimate that I will need to run thirty-five miles to burn off those calories.
I read an article this morning on People.com about who in Hollywood has the best beach body and I am now determined to never wear a bathing suit in public, and perhaps not even in private, ever again.
My Jeep turned itself off earlier today for a minute while I was stopped behind a road work truck. I freaked out a little and then...called my dad. Apparently, thirty-three is not too old to call one's father when one gets a little scared. Luckily for Sam, who was en route to the park, it started right back up.
I am currently waiting for my husband to come home and take out the stinky trash (all the while knowing that I could just take it out myself).
I've been daydreaming lately about living somewhere above the Mason/Dixon line. I have yet to analyze this, but whatever the reason, I won't be mentioning this to my uber-southern mama.
I just spent the last hour watching the Nadal/Fish Wimbledon quarterfinal match when I probably should have been doing laundry/washing dishes/calling my grandmother/cleaning the bathroom/etc.
I've been perusing your Facebook photo albums this afternoon and living vicariously through your recent beach vacation.
I still have fourteen voicemails in my inbox leftover from April.
I added Justin Bieber's "Never Say Never" to our Netflix queue. I think Matt may be unaware of this as of yet.
There are atleast 421 other things I should be doing right now.
Whew. I feel better already. However, I may regret this rash confessional later.