Well, hello, fabulous readers.
Since the transfer to the new website, there’s been an issue with email updates, and now that it is repaired, you may have been bombarded with a slew of old blog posts in your inbox over the weekend. So, sorry. I think we are all fixed-up, and you will continue to hear from me (yay!) but not eight posts at a time (yay, again!).
Let’s catch up, shall we?
Last weekend, I attended a writing conference in Michigan. While I was gone, my husband won the coveted Husband of the Year Award. It’s true. He earned this award for taking the kids to the school’s annual Fall Festival and even shuttling the neighbor kids to the bus. Plus, he didn’t even feed the kids pizza every night. A true hero.
However, the award was only his for a brief moment because upon my return, I discovered he signed our family up to participate in a two day Living Nativity event. I am assuming thus said event will include real animals, and I will be required to dress in Biblical garb.
Ask me how happy I am about this. Not very.
Signing up the family for a Living Nativity event = No award. Sorry, babe.
In addition, while I was conferencing it up, my second born walked around with what I not-so affectionately call the double-pony hairstyle for days. Poor thing. My husband says he does her hair in the double-pony so she is “ready to pounce”. I don’t understand what that means, but it translates into two very tight ponytails which are tied together and then somehow attached to the back of her head.
In other news, my addiction to Instagram continues to grow, and should you want to view random pictures of gourds, please head over as quickly as you can click.
Is this a gourd? I simply cannot say.
What I can say is there are about a trillion reasons I love the farmers market, but if I had to narrow it down to just one, I would say the colors. Yesterday, I saw an eggplant which was such a deep purple and so over-the-top shiny that I had to lift it up twice and shake it to make certain it was real. I am sure I am the only person who believes some of the fruits and vegetables at the farmers market aren’t real just like I believe natural hot springs are not real, but that is a post for another day. Oh and when you shake a real eggplant, you don’t actually hear anything. Just a little FYI.
Besides that, the Sullivans are rolling around the neighborhood on a hand-me-down scooter from the neighbors and painting mustaches and candy corn on pumpkins in the frontyard. It is absolute bliss.
Oh and we are drinking apple cider.
Now you go. What have you been up to this fall and do you think it was appropriate for my husband to lose the Husband of the Year Award? Go ahead, give it to me straight.
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