let's do this again

Here's the thing,

I hate hair feathers. They sort of make me want to kill myself. Of course I'm being dramatic. It looks great on you no it doesn't!

I long for nothing more than pants that fit, a top with no muffin attached, and a face with no adult acne. Do I ask for too much? Apparently.  

I don't know a lot about politics, but I sure do love to make fun of Michelle Bachmann.

I cannot watch The Bachelor. I can't. Hork. 

My children, oh gravy, those boys. I just feel so damn SMUG about how good looking they are. I mean really, it's like "mirror mirror on the wall, who has the best looking children of all?" ME SUCKERS. I pray daily that this translates well throughout puberty and adulthood. You know, because life is easier when you're devastatingly handsome. It's just a fact. I mean I assume it is because we all know how that went for me.

I mean, yes, your kids are nice too though, high five!

I've been happy lately, all summer essentially. Not over the top, in your face, jazz hands and exploding glitter cannon type happy, but content and yes, this is very nice-type happy. Which is good because a lot of my friends and family are dealing with some real serious business and it helps if you're not down when your friends are down. You know, balancing out the universe and stuff. 

This picture brings me great joy:

huh, what? how'd this get on there
psssttt...
(my birthday is in November)
(I'm turning 30)

 and this one too

I want to come up with some sort of a pre-school curriculum and schedule for my Nublet, but when I think about actually doing it, I feel tired and then I think about something else, like cookies, and where can I get my hands on some tunic tops so I can wear leggings more often?

Did I tell you my sister is pregnant? Well, my sister is pregnant. A girl. February. Thanks for asking. I am notorious (only to myself) for pregnancy envy. What? I like being pregnant, I just like it, a lot, and last time she did this I just so happened to show up pregnant like 4 months later. Except this time I'm not jealous (maybe a little), just genuinely excited and even more excited that I get to sniff and snuggle this little lady baby and then hand her back to mama for the nursings and nighttime. My flat pancake boobs will remain dried up and saggly, and noticeably sans perpetually attached newborn. Bless. Does this mean I'm maturing? Or have my ovaries shriveled up and died? As La Yen was once known to ponder "if my eggs fall in the forest and no one gets them pregnant am I still a woman?" or something like that.


I like this picture as well. Did I already post this picture? OH NOES!