Things My Mother Taught Me, Part One
Another girl having cute hair will not diminish the cuteness of your hair.
For more words of wisdom from my fabulous mother, visit her new blog.
The Luckiest
My darling husband’s birthday is this weekend. I’m posting this a little early because I’m running off to Quilt Retreat and leaving him all alone. I feel awful about it, but what can I do? Maybe if his parents had planned a little better 26 years ago we wouldn’t have this problem.
A few months ago Dave and I took Grandma Toronto home after Sunday dinner. When we arrived at her tiny apartment she started to show me the pictures hanging on her wall; family photos, weddings, graduations. And then she pointed to the large picture in the middle. “That one there is my dear husband,” she said with tears in her eyes. “He was the kindest, sweetest, greatest man I’ve ever known.”
I think about that all the time, about how lucky she is. I suspect that not everyone is lucky enough to be married to the person they think is best in all the world.
I guess I’m a lucky one.
Happy birthday, Burrito! You are the kindest, the sweetest, the best, and I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to be spending my life with you. I love you madly.
Always, M
For the Record…
I am here.
I didn’t mean to go away for so long, at first it was just a brief, self-imposed sabbatical because I was having a quilting emergency, so I couldn’t do anything but sew and cry for several days. And then I got a wicked headache (from the sewing and the crying), and I couldn’t look at a computer screen without throwing up for several days. Unfortunately, I am now in the middle of a new, darker quilting emergency (darker because I quit drinking caffeine), and can’t let myself blog until I’m ready for quilt retreat.
But I will be back soon with some really great stuff about light bulbs and bangs and an expose on who makes us late more often, me or Dave.
I know, I can’t wait either.
It’s a sad day for all of us.
I am aghast. Read this article so we can all be aghast together.
Daylight Savings, 9 AM Church, and a Forgetful Husband
Here is the sentence that every woman longs to hear from her husband Sunday morning at 8:55.
“Um, are you going to be ready in the next, like, minute? Because we’re supposed to pray in Sacrament Meeting.”
Oh, great. There’s nothing like one minute’s warning to make sure I’m on time for church.
“What do you mean we’re supposed to pray?” I replied in my sweetest tones.
“Well, actually I think they just want me to pray, they didn’t ask for you…specifically. So I’m going to go and you can just come when you’re done with…whatever that is.”
It’s called a curling iron. And I’m sorry it takes me a whole twenty minutes to get ready but we can’t all just throw in some gel and run out the door like you do, then we would both look homeless and the children would be afraid.
Ten minutes later I arrive at church and while I’m waiting for the opportune moment to walk in late, (Is there such thing? Or are they all bad moments?) I pick up a program for a little light reading.
Opening Prayer – Melissa Toronto
Super.
And the best part is Dave was kind enough to assure me that it wasn’t “entirely my fault” and that he “covered” for me.
When it’s our turn to speak I really hope they call and ask me. Then he’ll be sorry.
« Previous Page — Next Page »