I’m back, YAY me. Let’s do like me in real life and skip the small talk:
Excuse for Not Blogging Numero Uno – BiRtHdAyS. Three of them. Specifically, mine. Also, two sisters (the oldest and the youngest). Three days in a row. Good times. This year our “baby” turned 16, so her birthday was a big deal. But I’m just 25 so I’m over birthdays…NOT. I had no idea what I wanted to do but after being harangued to please think of SOMETHING by my poor parents I somehow managed to get a lot of raspberries, protein-powder-chocolate-mousse, and a giant Vera Bradley bag out of the whole thing so I feel like it all came off very well, really. Also my sweetheart wrote me a poem about my eyes, so…Possibly with his permission I will just share it sometime. Or I just might horde it. You just never know.
Excuse Dos – 40 Days for Life. My dad joked the other day that Dorothy has two seasons: “40 Days for Life is HAPPENING” and “40 Days for Life is COMING.” I said he was joking but no, not really, it’s pretty much true. I realized a while back this was my 9th campaign and…mmm. That is a lot. But this campaign is very well covered, thanks be to God, and is going smoothly so far. You can still sign up though. And you should. Do it. Do it, do it. In other news, one of my favorite things about the campaign is this sweet lady who emails me while 40 Days for Life is happening and asks for my prayer requests. She’s housebound but she’s a lovely writer and we have the loveliest email exchanges. I enjoy her just, so much, she’s very encouraging and she definitely helps with her words and her prayers. All that to say, don’t think you have an excuse not to do SOMETHING to end abortion because there’s always, you know, something.
Excuse #3 of the reason I’ve blogged less is that I was cooking more. Way more. I did that Arbonne detox fancy-schmancy thing and Oh. My. Goodness. I’ve really enjoyed it, and even though my 28-day detox technically ended last Sunday, I’ve pretty much stuck with it because I’ve enjoyed the food and the feeling so much. I did eat chips and half a sopapilla at a restaurant last night, but decided afterwards they probably won’t have much of a draw in the future. Now, that has as much to do with the “Made to Crave” bible study as it does the detox food, but in all honesty, I enjoyed this:
A lot more today than I enjoyed the chips yesterday. The chips were good (the salsa was AMAZING) but I totally enjoyed my southwest-ish salad-y thing tonight, even with a sistah eating buttered pasta right across from me. I’ve struggled with food for as long as I can remember, so between “Made to Crave” and Arbonne…this is pretty amazing.
Still fixating on food for a few fun moments longer: I so need to try some new recipes. My sweet Gina friend sent me a glowing recommendation of this healthy version of Chick-fil-a’s nuggets
, and my Elizabeth friend (responsible for getting me hooked on Arbonne) shared a recipe for falafel-lish “Chick-en” nuggets
which I’m so trying…tomorrow. No, really, I am making those tomorrow. Fridays in Lent are the ideal time for falafel nuggets, amiright?
Not that you asked for it, but an update from the land of growing-out-my-pixie-cut…French braid! I did one today. It has an itsy little knob of hair at the end, and there may or may not be two bobby pins assisting the sides, but…whatever. It is a french braid and I feel pretty legit about it. So, yes. That happened.
There are three packets of Chick-fil-a ketchup and a tiny maraca(s?) sitting on the shelf in our entry way. This is from my adventure at the mall this past…Monday? Yes, Monday – adventure at the mall on Monday with my Big Sister and her bebes. This was a lot of fun for several reasons. One of which was that they have these tiny fedoras and the two eldest were wearing them. Apparently they are good for smuggling, because the 4-year-old’s head rattled when I patted him upon it after we arrived inside the mall. He had stuck the little maraca (maracas?) inside the fedora, which a homeschooling mom would probably have turned into some sort of multicultural commentary. Being only a lowly aunt, I settled for congratulating him on this clever method of carrying. I was then informed by his mother that he was meant to have left the thing in the car. At which point I withdrew my congratulations, and also the maraca, or, as the nephews call it, their “shakey”. I stuck it in my purse-bag, forgot to give it back, and on my way into Mass the next day, found my purse-bag was making the same distinct rattling noise the eldest nephew’s head had been making the evening before. Hence: the “shakey” is now on the entry way shelf, stowed next to the ketchup packets I also accidentally absconded with. Note to self: in future check the purse-bag before departing the nephews.
Back at the mall: At one point the baby stole a fedora and decided it was best modeled sideways. Like so:
which you can see was surely correct.
Happy Friday, peeps. And I mean you, not that weird candy. You have a happy Friday.