I just feel like writing. I’m sad I’m out of the habit. I’m working on a fairly big writing project right now and in addition to teaching and running a household and being a wife and mama, sharing my funny little thoughts has fallen off my radar.
Plus, do people even do blogs anymore?
Also, that’s not proper English. That’s okay.
But the beautiful thing about my blog is I get to say what I want and how I want and not worry about what people are thinking. And when I don’t write, it messes with my melon. I say the same thing every time I climb up onto my little writing stool and try to get the words out. But it’s okay. That’s okay, too.
It’s a form of plumbing.
Which reminds me, I need to call the plumber. Our main bathroom toilet isn’t working.
Here’s an awesome funny story I want to share:
Henry stayed home from school yesterday because he had a fever the day before. He was feeling much better, still has a hacking little cough, but we were able to spend a few hours running errands and getting him some clothes. He doesn’t fit any hand-me-downs from the brothers, mostly because he is my first child who wears the Husky version of the clothes on the market.
So we went to Wal-mart where Henry spied a pair of compression shorts that looked like those his older brothers wear. I sprung for them as a treat (and they ended up only costing $1.50 so SCORE!).
Last night Henry donned the new shorts and wore them to family prayers, which was immodest probably but there you go. So he’s walking into the front room and suddenly he notices that his new compression shorts have a pocket! One GIANT pocket directly in the front. That’s weird, he observed, but proceeded to put his hand in the pocket to make use of such a cool option.
“That’s not a pocket,” Elliott finally told Henry. “It’s for a cup.”
“Sweet!,” said Henry. “I’ll stick a cup in there and have a really giant straw and I can walk around with a drink in my pocket.”
Life is good.