We did not run. But we did offer them congratulations on their accomplishment.
Happy Memorial Day with immeasurable gratitude to the soldier who have served and paid the ultimate price for our freedom to do such silly things as this.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Memorial Day
My bff, Wheels, and her husband ran the Soldier Field 10-mile in Chicago this weekend and sent us a darling photo of the two of them post-race.
We did not run. But we did offer them congratulations on their accomplishment.
Happy Memorial Day with immeasurable gratitude to the soldier who have served and paid the ultimate price for our freedom to do such silly things as this.
We did not run. But we did offer them congratulations on their accomplishment.
Happy Memorial Day with immeasurable gratitude to the soldier who have served and paid the ultimate price for our freedom to do such silly things as this.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Caroline, the 9-year-old tree climber!
Caroline had one request for her birthday:
"I just want to climb trees!"
In our newly-established suburban neighborhood, tree-climbing is just not possible. So we took the birthday girl to a park downtown (after ice cream, of course) and let her climb away. She is one archery class away from being Katniss.
Happy Birthday, Caroline! You are the best surprise we have ever been given!
"I just want to climb trees!"
In our newly-established suburban neighborhood, tree-climbing is just not possible. So we took the birthday girl to a park downtown (after ice cream, of course) and let her climb away. She is one archery class away from being Katniss.
Happy Birthday, Caroline! You are the best surprise we have ever been given!
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
It's Alright to Cry
My tagline is "smile more" because I firmly believe we are all more likeable when we smile.
But sometimes smiling is hard to do.
Sometimes there is pain so unbearable the only thing we can do is pray our hearts can someday heal and forgive them for only feeling the heaviness of ache.
Dear friends of ours lost their son this past week. He was a bright-eyed, beautiful 9-year-old boy with the purest and freest spirit. He went to bed with a mild case of the stomach flu Monday night. His father checked on him in the night, jumping back when his son shot up in bed and announced, "You scared the poop out of me!"
But just a few hours later, his father found him unresponsive and not breathing. Paramedics tried everything to revive him, but it was too late. He had crossed over.
Our friends spent the day before Mother's Day burying their son. Their family now five after being a six-pack for what they thought would be forever.
So sometimes smiling is too hard to do. Hug your kids, love each moment and honor the value of time in laughter together.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Derby Days
I had never been to the Kentucky Derby before. In fact, I think I have only cut through the very westernmost corner of Kentucky on a college spring break road trip and have never been to the state.
My husband is a huge Ashley Judd fan, though. And I do like Neil Diamond's "Kentucy Woman."
But, truthfully, it was the prospect of getting to wear a big, fancy hat (just like Kate and Will's wedding guests!) that excited me when my husband and I received an invitation to our very first Kentucky Derby party.
I researched and shopped for weeks leading up to the event, bookmarking photo after photo of derby attire and visiting every department store within a 50 mile radius of my home from Nordie's to WalMart.
Choosing a dress (hanging already in my closet) was no problem. The hat was a whole different story. They were either too big, too small, too cheap, too expensive, too black, too white, too prude, or too whore-ish. (I will note here that my husband asked twice what to wear. Twice I offered to buy him a searsucker suit. Twice he asked what searsucker was. Twice I pointed to the stretch marks on my abdomen and said, "Kind of like these." Twice he rolled his eyes and walked away. He wore khakis and a button-up shirt to the party.)
After a month of searching for the perfect hat, this little indecisive Libra made her way to both Hobby Lobby and Michael's where she purchased over $100 worth of silk flowers, spools of ribbons and one colorful bird, $89 of which was promptly returned. Armed with a glue gun and a bottle of wine, I created what I knew in my gut was nothing close to masterpiece.
One hour before the party I bought a different straw hat, ripped apart the first one and reassembled something just in time to waltz into the party, accent and betting cash in tow.
The fact that my horse came in fourth is not nearly as discouraging as the single running commentary I received about my work of head art, the question asked more often that afternoon than "place or show?" "Did you make it yourself?" Why yes. Yes, I did...
My husband is a huge Ashley Judd fan, though. And I do like Neil Diamond's "Kentucy Woman."
But, truthfully, it was the prospect of getting to wear a big, fancy hat (just like Kate and Will's wedding guests!) that excited me when my husband and I received an invitation to our very first Kentucky Derby party.
I researched and shopped for weeks leading up to the event, bookmarking photo after photo of derby attire and visiting every department store within a 50 mile radius of my home from Nordie's to WalMart.
Choosing a dress (hanging already in my closet) was no problem. The hat was a whole different story. They were either too big, too small, too cheap, too expensive, too black, too white, too prude, or too whore-ish. (I will note here that my husband asked twice what to wear. Twice I offered to buy him a searsucker suit. Twice he asked what searsucker was. Twice I pointed to the stretch marks on my abdomen and said, "Kind of like these." Twice he rolled his eyes and walked away. He wore khakis and a button-up shirt to the party.)
After a month of searching for the perfect hat, this little indecisive Libra made her way to both Hobby Lobby and Michael's where she purchased over $100 worth of silk flowers, spools of ribbons and one colorful bird, $89 of which was promptly returned. Armed with a glue gun and a bottle of wine, I created what I knew in my gut was nothing close to masterpiece.
One hour before the party I bought a different straw hat, ripped apart the first one and reassembled something just in time to waltz into the party, accent and betting cash in tow.
The fact that my horse came in fourth is not nearly as discouraging as the single running commentary I received about my work of head art, the question asked more often that afternoon than "place or show?" "Did you make it yourself?" Why yes. Yes, I did...
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