(The Man made his own camera this weekend. Yeah, that's just the sort of thing he does. This is a picture he took of our lovely and invasive bamboo out back.)
I was feeling a little glum right before lunch today. It's a gray day, on the cold side, and we've got a week of rain ahead of us. February, right?
I made a hummus wrap and sat down at the kitchen table to eat. I noticed Will's pile of Christmas thank you notes (I know, I know, we're running a little late on the thank you notes this year) and picked one up. Here's what it said:
Grammy and Pop,
Thank you for the gift cards. I don't remember what I used them for.
It is the worst thank you note ever. My children are barbarians. I cannot stop laughing.
I'm a writer and a stay-at-home mom who keeps meaning to mop the floors because I think it would make me happy if I did. I love books and music and writing, spend entirely too much time in the dentist's chair (I bet I have more crowns than you do), and used to think I was sort of bohemian, but now I wonder. No tattoos. Minivan. That story.