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.
Here goes.
(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.
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