November 10, 2011

Seriously!

Seriously.  Time can go on and slow down now.  S-l-o-w down.  Way down.  I am a frazzled mess rushing from one thing to the next to the next to the next.  It is very hard to be present in this moment when all I can think of is my to do list and the sixteen things I should be/could be doing next.  


I.  Need.  To.  Breathe.


Inhale.


Exhale.


OK then.


Since last I posted, there was a little adventure commonly referred to as Girls' Night Out.  These nights happen all over the world with all sorts of girls.  Let me tell you about mine.  They're those girls that I've known since junior high back when it was called junior high and not middle school.  The girls that make you laugh until you either a) start to pee your pants or b) snort and some sort of beverage or food comes out your nose.  The girls who have dried tears and wordlessly comforted through break-ups, and world ending let-downs and unquestioningly offered up even more often without being asked.  We are intricately woven together by a lifetime of experiences.  This snap shot shows nothing of our 'filters off' evening.  They were off though.  Believe you-me, they were off.  Oh, and in case any of you were wondering...Lynnea did admit Shanda was right at 7 pm last Thursday evening.  Someone did actually look at their watch to confirm the time.  




Skipping ahead a little, Tuesday brought the second meeting of sewing club.  Six sewers.  One great-grandma.  Three almost pre-schoolers.  Two infants.  We sewed.  The conversation flowed.  Late and skipped naps pushed the limits of patience for the little ones and this mama in particular.  In the end, each of us coaxed a flower into bloom from a short cut of cotton fabric and some scraps of wool felt.  







Wednesday, Auntie Maxine came for treats and a visit.  She never comes empty handed.  Channing was all hands as Maxine showed him the ins and outs of weaving hot pad holders on a metal loom.  She also taught him how to pretend to eat a fuzzy, plastic spider and then coughing and sputtering, spit it back up again.  I was in stitches and didn't take pictures of the lesson as it unfolded.  It's hilarious.  Absolutely.




Our house is now filled with warmth of an oven that has been on most of the morning and smells of caramelized sugar.  The birthday party baking and prep has begun in earnest.  It may look like a cyclone struck inside the red house on Inglewood Ave.  However, by Saturday morning, it will all come together.  It will.  I cannot wait.  

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