Wednesday, March 4, 2009

I've typed about five different paragraphs tonight, then promptly deleted. In my delirium of less than five-hours of sleep (self-inflicted) all I really want to share is the potato explosion in the oven (very literally) and the massive bruise on Carolyn's cheek (not related to the potato, self-inflicted) and the entertainment portion of the evening when Jules insisted "Quiet kids! Me sing" and then belted out "Jesus Loves Me". And my vulnerability makes me want to complain that I am a frugal-grocery-failure and now have a phobia about walking in there because I'm sure I'll drop three-weeks worth of food budget if I dare (seriously, the fridge is B-A-R-E and I can't bring myself to attempt a visit to what I now see as a money hungry monster called the grocery store). So I guess this paragraph will have to do, as it's getting late and my big warm bed is speaking to me just like in that creepy Burger King commercial a few years ago.


Amy said...

You just let me know when and I will help you plan a trip to the grocery store or CVS or Walgreens or whatever store you want to shop at. My schedule is pretty open.

Matt and Jen said...

You are a champ for even being conscious of these things! You will get there... just be Thomas the whatever Engine- "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can!"