Other than an uneventful trip to the periodontist today (Yay - I get to keep my teeth for another 35 years!), I have nothing too newsworthy to report. Unless sitting in the parking lot of Wendy's people-watching while pecking away at a taco salad and noticing how everyone looks a little bit crazy talking to themselves (Bluetooth Nation) and what this means for the new generation's ability or inability to communicate effectively with one another is your kind of interesting. More on that later...
Instead, here's a list of updates on some loose ends I have posted recently:
I have not been forgetting to post pictures of all the beautiful creations I have sewn with my mother's sewing machine. There aren't any pictures. There aren't any creations. The machine is no longer making late night SOS phonecalls to my mom, begging for her to come pick it up and end its lonely sentence of solitary confinement in the dark and probably haunted guest bedroom. Mom now has full custody. It was an amicable separation in the end. I don't know what the hell I was thinking but I can promise you, it won't happen again.
* I did manage to sew together a "headband" that would look stunning on a chihuahua. I designed it for myself. This is the perfect example of what happens when you fail math in high school. Actually, come to think of it...this entire blog is the perfect example of what happens when you fail math in high school. REALLY, my entire LIFE is what happens....yeah, yeah.
On Grayson Sleeping in his Own Room:
Since we Took Back the Night, Grayson has slept in his room more often than not. This is to include a slight Spiderman room makeover, a million nefarious superhero stick-ons all over his walls, and one big ass plastic Navy rescue boat. I guess a kid can finally have peace of mind when there isn't any more threat of otherworldly evil and/or east coast tsunamis taking shape in his bedroom at exactly his bedtime.
On My Pledge to Just Run and Keep Running:
Let's just say I'd like to apply for an extension on my promise to you. Damn excuses keep hiding my running shoes. And they eat Apple Jacks like rapid fire if I'm not careful.
On Being SuperMom:
I had to willingly relinquish the crown when Abigail barely escaped being clipped by a car in a parking lot because I thought she was with me when, in serious heart attack inducing fact, she was instead sprinting toward said car. I've never screamed her name so loudly in my life. Apparently, her running shoes work very well. Maybe we should swap.
Hope that about wraps up any loose ends that may have been waving about on the internet like little unending ellipses dotting themselves into oblivion.
Ah. That was cathartic. Did I miss anything?