Saturday, March 25, 2017

March Madness and Technology

There are times where technology helps -- think Google, Pinterest and maps. Just yesterday, I looked up directions to a pop-up vintage shop event, Yelped a restaurant and researched Bottle People on Google and Pinterest. Then, there are times when technology hurts. Those times when you discover there are Bottle People examples on Pinterest. Yeah, these are a thing. And, let me tell you, they are unbelievably magnificent if they are truly done by a second grader and not a professional artist.

This week's school project for the twins is Bottle People. Last week, salt dough. We have a handful of days to turn two-liter bottles into Michelle Obama. Both girls picked her. Camille is making the Michelle Obama that gardens on the White House grounds. Caroline is going with a more official Mrs. Obama -- giving a speech. I spent $53 at the craft store today. The items:
Two styrofoam balls
One package of dowels
One can of light brown spray paint (her skin)
One can of black spray paint (the podium)
One bag of green Easter grass
One package with two strands of beads (a pearl necklace and a silver bead necklace)
One package of carrot stickers
Two styrofoam blocks (the podium)
Half a yard of blue fabric (the speech dress)
One skein of dark brown yarn (her hair)
One little pink watering can

At home, we had an outfit from an American Girl doll that could be used for the gardening Mrs. Obama -- jeans and a white short-sleeved shirt. And, we had cardboard on which to adhere the podium and the garden. We also found two felt tomatoes for the garden.

Newsflash: We aren't crafty so we don't have supplies. We have to spend money on supplies for a project that will receive a check plus and be returned in a day or two. We are not able to rummage around in our studio for any items you can use for a homework assignment. Now, we did have quite a few juice and soda bottles. I finished some Cranberry Mist with some vodka. Sacrifice.

It's all for a project. It's all for a project. It's all for a project.

So, part of our Saturday was spent shopping at a craft store and then beginning the creation process of Bottle People. Yippee for us, we get to spend part of our day tomorrow finishing up these ladies.

I tweeted and posted pictures to Instagram and @ mentioned Michelle Obama. I need a retweet and a like. And, a comment. 

Technology also provides a benefit when you are going to an event that runs during your Baylor men's basketball Sweet 16 game. It's amazing to have an app that shows the game live and Twitter that provides commentary of the game. Then, when your team begins to lose -- about a minute into the game -- you begin to despise technology and it's delivery of game information. You begin to be grateful that you aren't at home watching the game because you would throw your little piece of technology at the television.

It's only a game. It's only a game. It's only a game.

We lost. Twitter told me. The ESPN app told me. Ugh. 

It's only a game. It's only a game. It's only a game.

We weren't even seeded in the top 25 at the beginning of the season. No one expected us to get this far in the tournament. We were only number 1 in the country for one day. (That was sweet. That was our Shining Moment. Maybe we'll make the montage?)

It's only a game. It's only a game. It's only a game.

I wore a Baylor t-shirt last night as we visited the cute vintage shop and when we wandered into the restaurant I found on Yelp. It was a sushi spot that specializes in pairing champagne with the meal. Sounds so delicious, right? Well, I just really needed some champagne cocktails because of the aforementioned loss  defeat  spanking. Yes, I was in a kind of nice place in a Baylor t-shirt. Not a good look on a Friday night in a cool area of town. Other people in the restaurant were in hip jackets and nifty dresses. Not me. I was in a worn-down mood in a t-shirt. Yelp didn't mention a dress code for this spot so it was OK, but I just didn't feel OK. Nothing champagne can't help, right?

But even while I downed my drinks, I noticed Twitter flicker again because oh, yes, my Lady Bears were playing in their Sweet 16 game. Redemption. I sat up a bit straighter and dusted off my mood. The t-shirt was back on point. 

The ride home was app watching and Twitter tweeting with a joyous buoyancy (maybe the bubbly helped). I love technology.

Home again and I saw my women win. They knocked Louisville right out of the arena and had a big win. Thank goodness for technology. Loads of comments, tweets and filtered Instagram pictures carried me through the late evening. That's a winning fourth part. Well, except for my men. That wasn't so winning.

It's only a game. It's only a game. It's only a game.

Along with finishing up the pair of Michelle Obamas, I get to watch my Lady Bears play in the Elite 8. Yes, I changed my profile picture on Facebook and Twitter to an Elite banner. It's so fun. 

Maybe tomorrow, I'll post the finished Bottle People. Another chance at a retweet. Another chance at over-sharing. Another chance to use technology to my favor.

College basketball and elementary school projects.

Yeah, it's March Madness. It's One Shining Moment.

I love this time of year. I love this time of year. I love this time of year.

Sunday, March 19, 2017

9-Volt Batteries and Poster Boards

Spring Break always comes at the perfect time. Slogged through those opening days of school in January, had a few cold days in February and then, right when you need a break, it comes. That lovely week off in March where you can plan a ski trip or a beach trip . . . or stay at home and sleep late.

OK, not the Adams. G headed off to fish and Chris ventured off to Padre. The girls and I were home except for three early morning drives to gymnastics. Yes, for some reason, we had gymnastics for three hours each of those three days starting at 7 a.m. Camille and I were up and at 'em earlier than we are for school. She did it with no complaining and quite easily. She loves it. Really, she loves it. She's using words such as 'kip,' 'cast,' 'flat-out,' 'table' and other ones I don't think I would spell or punctuate correctly. We capped off our week with a team meeting where I learned other words -- compulsory -- and our payment plan (which is also compulsory. The girls have been studying homographs. Fun words such as bill and bill (again, a payment) and check and check (I could do this all day -- relating homographs to money. This gymnastics is real money. No homograph. I mean the only definition of money.).

All in all, a good week. G limited out on trout. Chris returned safely. And, we took a quick day trip up to Marble Falls to pick strawberries at Sweet Berry Farms and eat pie at Bluebonnet Cafe. I also convinced G to stop along the way a couple of times for me to look at vintage, metal outdoor chairs. $75 a piece and then $45 a piece didn't sound as sweet to G as the berries we picked.

Friday night, we laid our heads down to sleep relishing in a nice week and readying ourselves for sweet dreams. Then, because it was a time change recently and we are supposed to have some nifty downloadable pdf chart indicating when you change your AC filters, clean the coils in your refrigerator and change out the batteries in your smoke alarm . . .we were reminded we didn't do a single one, including the loudest one.

2:18 a.m. Shrieking sound from, yeah, you guessed it, the smoke alarm in the girls' room. I shot up and roused G (he can sleep through anything) and started standing under the smoke alarms throughout the house, looking up as if it would say 'hi, it's me. I need a new battery.' Suddenly, this right around 3000 square foot home felt like a mansion with complex hallway circuits and inter-dimensional worlds like The OA (yeah, watched that crazy show this week . . .what the!?). Because smoke alarms like to trick you and give you just a taste of what is ahead -- again something straight from The OA -- it stops, you believe it to be a fluke, go back to bed and. . .

2:24 a.m. The shrill sound of needing to replace a battery screamed to us again (why didn't I download an informative spring checklist from one of the many blogs I read. Wait, I did download and file away somewhere and just didn't do the checklist. One of many of my issues. Big plans, little action).

G got up this time, found a ladder and then gently removed the battery. Y'all, come on. He tore that thing down and ripped out the guilty culprit. A 9-volt battery. Upon further inspection, we noticed the hallway smoke alarm had the battery-holding contraption flopping around because we must have ripped that out at the falling-back time change. Another missing 9-volt battery.

Guess what we don't have any of? And, guess what likes to remind you it is missing a battery? How does it work without a battery? What kind of sensor does it have that it operates with a sweeter chirping sound, but a sound nonetheless? And, why was it just the one from the girls' room sending out that signal? How is that possible? Oh, wait, The OA might be sending me a message . . . a sixth movement? I should have learned that dance. I could have escaped to a place where sleep happened at 2:30 a.m.

Who has 9-volt batteries? We don't. Thankfully, Walgreens does in a three-pack. I think we have three. My early morn wandering helped me discover three. Are there more? Aren't there five movements? (OA reference, again.)

Let me tell you, a smoke alarm going off in the middle of the night, quick trips to Target, HEB and Walgreens weren't going to stop us from having the greatest fourth part of the day. You see a BBQ was in our plans for Saturday evening. We had invited over some friends as a rouse to wait for the friend of all friends. Saxon. Yep, she and her family (my friend, Anna!!) were coming to town for their Spring Break. Texts throughout the day were showing signs of a late arrival, but they were coming. Saxon was coming. Saxon was coming. Saxon was going to be at our house. Saxon was going to spend the night at our house. Saxon was going to eat lunch with us at school. Saxon was going to go swimming with us.

I think I answered the questions, 'what time is it' and 'how many minutes until Saxon is here,' too many times to count. So I had to distract.

The girls and I cleaned out their closet and drawers. We cleaned the room. We made beds. We organized the art center. Distract, distract. (Come on, could there be a more fun last Saturday of Spring Break activity. For me, yes. For the girls, eh, not so much.)

The girls helped me make a few things with the vast amount of strawberries we picked -- syrup, popsicles, dump cake. (We still have a lot of strawberries. What else?)

Distractions were wearing thin, but the question of Saxon's arrival continued.

The poster boards.

Yes, the poster boards.

Time to make signs to welcome Saxon.

That stop to Walgreens earlier for batteries, included scooping up a couple of poster boards. Bonus, since we cleaned the art center, we had plenty of room to spread out markers and Sharpies and crayons and stickers (because we organized and could find them) to make colorful, welcoming posters for Saxon and her family.

By 'we' I mean the girls because I was acting like Caroline 'Ma' Ingalls whipping up some strawberry goods from my harvest to store for the winter .  .  .

To make it through the next season.

To make it through the next time change.

To make it through another battery changing.

To make it through an it will come way too soon good-bye to our friend.

Spring Break. It always comes at the right time. It's just never long enough. It just doesn't have as many days as we need to have as many sleepovers as we want with a best friend.

Do they make a high-volt battery to help the sad chirp our hearts make when we see a best friend drive off to go back home (in another state)?

Do I need to run to Walgreens?

Do I need to buy tissue?

Do I need to distract until the summer when we have a much longer break that will be much needed and will have many sleepovers with a best friend?

OK, Ma, what do I make to store up for that?

Monday, March 13, 2017

Baking Dishes and Essential Oils

Driving home from work today -- which went by really quickly because Thank You Spring Break (which made me happy but also sad that I was driving home from work when so many others were enjoying the day) -- I thought of the things I needed to get done tonight. Finish up the laundry, unload the dishwasher, plan my travel outfit for tomorrow and pack my travel bag for Tuesday's journey (which, yes, I am still looking for the perfect travel bag. Visit to see my inquiry and the resulting recommendations.).

What a fourth part kind of night.

Bonus . . .I'm home by myself. G went fishing (happy spring bring to him) and the girls are spending the night at my parents' house. Chris will be here anxiously anticipating my 'make wise choices' lecture and presentation as we he packs to leave for his spring break fun tomorrow. (Not my fun, his fun.)

Home by myself. Outfit, done. Travel bag, packed. Laundry, ongoing. Dishwasher, emptied.

But. Wait. Those dishes that were in the dishwasher, they were really baking sheets. Why so many being washed? Oh, yeah, my unplanned science experiment from last night caused a need to wash all the baking sheets. Because at around 7 p.m. in the aforementioned evening, those baking sheets, neatly tucked in that drawer at the bottom of the stove, found themselves covered in lots of olive oil and chicken fat. And, added bonus, slivers and shards of glass.

Suddenly, I have another task to get done tonight that I wanted to forget. As I walked in the house after my quick drive home from work, the lingering smell of the self-cleaning oven setting reminded me . . . I had an oven to clean. Not just wipe out with a damp washcloth, as per the instructions. I had to wipe out with a wash cloth and hope I didn't catch a glass splinter.

You see, as I planned for this evening (and last), I knew a roast chicken would hit the spot. Last night, it would have been carved every so carefully and spooned over rice served alongside a salad. Tonight, it would have been a quick meal for me as I settled in to watch some television and fourth part it up.

Instead of a delicious, Ina-Garten-would-have-been-proud roasted chicken, I had a shattered, glass 9x13 baking dish on the floor, on the counter, in the oven . . .everywhere. Plus, chicken fat to slick it up and make the experiment  clean up even more fun.

No, I didn't have a defective baking dish, I had a lapse in judgment moment. I took home ec in high school. I've cooked many, many meals. I've roasted 100s of chickens. I've used baking dishes. I've added chicken stock to pans in the oven.

Did you know adding chicken stock straight from the refrigerator (read: cold liquid) should not be poured into a glass baking dish that has been in the oven at 425 degrees for 40 minutes? Guess what happens if you do that?

An explosion of glass. A partially roasted chicken sitting on a few pieces of onion, directly on the oven racks. It was as if the glass shattered, exploded and disintegrated all at once.

No one was injured except the baking dish. And, my pride. Fortunately, my sister took on finishing up the roasting of the chicken (after I washed it down) so dinner was saved.

After all went to bed last night, I took care of the mess. Sweeping, swiffer-ing, Clorox-wiping and repeating the cycle a few times cleaned the kitchen. I threw the kitchen rug and several dish towels in the washing machine (remember, the laundry I wrote about above). I turned on the self-cleaning feature (that smell and smoke is nothing to enjoy) and went to bed.

Even with the self-cleaning smell and the smoke, I was able to go right to sleep. Initially, I thought the sleep was coming easily because I was being poisoned by the chemicals in my oven. Nope. I slept well because I used my nifty travel-sized roller ball Serenity essential oil blend. I have no idea what oils are in that Serenity but they truly delivered at a time when I needed serenity. I rolled that sweet elixir on my feet (we have lots of points where the oil can be absorbed -- or something like that) and then dabbed on some Bergamot oil. (That helps with anxiety -- poisonous chemicals and glass remnants awaiting bare feet on the kitchen floor.) The oil I also wore to sleep was olive oil from cleaning up the kitchen. Guessing that helps with hunger pangs?

Alongside my two constantly moving in their sleep, sweet twin girls, I slept. Serenity and Bergamot aromotherapied me right to sleep, eliminating thoughts and concerns about potential glass in the dishwasher and washing machine, the need to wake up earlier than we do for school because Camille has gymnastics at 7 a.m. ($&%!!$%) and being poisoned by those self-cleaning chemicals.

Yes, I woke up. Yes, I'm eating leftover, glass-free roasted chicken for dinner tonight. Yes, I'm enjoying a fourth part of watching The Bachelor finale.

Laundry will be finished before bedtime . . . Bedtime that won't include self-cleaning chemical fumes or a film of olive oil on my skin, but rather a bit of Serenity and Bergamot.

Monday, March 6, 2017

Kielbasa Sausage and Genesis 22

Some days I just don't think I'm a connected mom. I feel like I push through the second part to get home for the third part, but then just rush to get to my fourth part.

Yep, I'm selfish.

And, I hate that.

I want to be the mom that walks in the door and lovingly greets my children, hugs them and listens to the school day stories. I want to pop on an apron and cook a meal that is memorable and delicious. I want to not have to think about things other than my family.

Guess what? I sometimes rush in the door because traffic or some other reason explains why I'm feeling as if I'm late. Four of the five weekdays, I only see Caroline because Camille is already at gymnastics. Yes, I greet her, but sometimes I start asking her to pick up, straighten up and work with me on getting ready for the next day. I sometimes cook a meal that is more like assembling pieces or re-positioning leftovers. I sometimes think of all that needs to take place within the next few hours to make the next few days hum.

Oh, I really try. I park the car in the driveway and take a breath and ready myself to walk in and be an in-the-moment mom.

(It's like when I say to myself 'this is the day that the Lord has made' when the alarm clock goes off in the morning. It's positive thinking.)

Today was one of those evenings. I self-talked (is that a thing) and reminded myself I can be a mom in the moment and really focus on family.

I feel OK about my effort. There wasn't much to pick up (which that kind of stuff makes me crazy) and it was a peaceful entry.

I knew leftover mac and cheese was on the menu and I had a link of kielbasa sausage awaiting the slicing. On a whim, I referred to a favorite cookbook, The Family Dinner, and searched for sausage in the index. There it was. A reference to sausage that didn't lead me to a recipe, but sent me to one of the most pleasantly written, well-received and very needed paragraphs I've ever read.

A woman named Kaisa wrote "A kielbasa sausage is always in our fridge. I slice it into coins and sauté them. I'll roast some broccoli in the oven with olive oil, sale and pepper. The kids call it 'crispy broccoli and sausage night'!

Well, we had no broccoli but we did have salad fixings so the Adams had salad and sausage night. Those few sentences calmed me and reassured me that even a slice of sausage can be present and special. It was so special because Caroline helped me assemble the salad and asked when she could learn how to cut sausage. Simple, but special. Thanks, Kaisa. Your words helped me.

After dinner, after watching The Bachelor (fourth part folks), after showers and after tomorrow prep, I looked at some other words that a friend and colleague recommended I study.

Remember when I wrote that I think about other days (think, ha. How about worry!). Well, specifically, I'm thinking about Chris' upcoming Spring Break. I'm praying so specifically and focusing on what I want. Hmmm, that's not really what my prayers should be, right?

It took this friend to share with me that my prayer should start with 'God, I know he is your son.' Then, she said a whole bunch of other stuff, but I was stuck on those seven words. I nodded to her other comments and may have even shared insights. But, I was stuck on those words.

You see, my children are my children. I've not been able to fully give them to God. They are mine. They are mine. They are mine. Writing that makes it so obvious that no, they aren't mine. They are God's. But, dang, those are my kids. The ones I want to focus on and the ones I want to be in the moment with and the ones I want to make a salad with and the ones I want to pray about.  Mine.

Then she said something about Genesis 22 and that I needed to read and study those words. Y'all know what that is about, right? Abraham willingly offering Isaac for sacrifice. I mean, it is written that he 'bound his son Isaac and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood.' He also 'reached out his hand and took the knife to slay his son.'

I can't. I just can't.

Abraham had told Isaac that God would provide the lamb for the burnt offering. Abraham obeyed God. He trekked up that mountain with his son, gathering wood and all along knew what was expected him.

I carried my son for nine months, delivered him and then raised him. And, now he's off at school making decisions about Spring Break that I just don't like. So I pray he changes his mind. I pray God puts friends and people in his life that are good for him. I've walked to that mountaintop with my son, but just couldn't bind him up and put him on an altar.

I can't I just can't.

But when you really read and pay attention to the words (even through tears), you notice verse 4 has a reference to 'we.' Once the wood was gathered and Abraham saw the spot for sacrifice up in the distance, he said to the servants 'Stay here with the donkey, while I and the boy go over there. We will worship and then we will come back to you.'

We will come back. Was Abraham hopeful? What lead him to say 'we'? Was Abraham just so super positive that God would use Isaac in some other way (like I don't know be in the lineage of David) that he knew he wouldn't sacrifice him that day? Why the 'we'?

It might have had to do with Abraham not sharing the full story with the servants. But, I'm going with, Abraham was super faithful and knew God would know and do best and what is right. God's plans. Not Abraham's. God's plans. Not mine.

This reading and studying is just the tip of leaning into this need to fully give my children to God. I mentioned I'm selfish. I want to hold on to them. I want to not bind them and completely give them and trust them to God.

That paragraph didn't calm me as Kaisa and the sausage. It didn't offer up an instant solution.

It did what it needed to do. It pulled me into the Bible. It put a focus on my family in a way that I could not have predicted. It created a crazy night.

God didn't ask Abraham to complete the sacrifice. He provided a ram for Abraham to sacrifice. Abraham named the place The Lord will Provide.

It doesn't end there.

The Lord tells Abraham, 'I swear by myself that because you have done this and have not withheld your son, your only son, I will surely bless you and make your descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as the sand on the seashore. Your descendants will take possession of the cities of their enemies, and through your offspring all nations on earth will be blessed, because you have obeyed me.'

Talk about family. Talk about focus. Talk about a paragraph.

My prayer for Chris really does need to change. I need to pray God's will be done and I have the strength to handle whatever comes my way. I need to pray for my spirit and my attitude. I need to pray that more paragraphs of inspiration come into my evenings.

On a crazy sausage evening at that.

Saturday, March 4, 2017

Nordstrom Level 1 and Coconut Oil Pulling

Traveling for work used to be exciting, and I thought, glamorous. Yeah, even on Southwest, I believed it was fun. Now that it is a part of most every work week for me, it's not so fun or exciting or glamorous. It makes me tired.

(First world problem, I know.)

(I get a load of points to take my family on trips, I know.)

(I have to take 5:55 a.m. flights some days. A lot of days. Oh, wait, sometimes I take a 6:25 a.m.)

When it comes to work travel, I have a routine. I typically wear a pair of black wedges. If not, I wear my black ballet flats and pack in a pair of heels. I know better than to try and run to a gate in three or four-inchers. I have go-to outfits for warm and cold weather. I know what jewelry works on a flight and always have my James Avery hook bracelet on my wrist. I use either my big yellow travel bag or my green one. Baylor colors bleed true even in work travel. I know what items to pop into those bags. I take time the night before to pack the bag according to the day's need. I figure out how to make lunches ahead of time, lay out clothes, fill backpacks and write babysitter notes. I also do the 'how many hours of sleep do I need to kind of get eight hours or something like that' math when the alarm goes off in the 4s.

Remember, I'm a planner. And, I do all this before a fourth-part. Yes, even on nights when I know the next day is a way too early wake-up call, I'm watching some DVRed show or reading. I need my fourth part to fuel that crack of dawn first part.

But wait, there's more. I've to plan with G on who is on first with drop offs, pick ups and activities. Because, sometimes, he has an early morning staff meeting or coaches' gathering. When the perfect storm occurs, fortunately, I have a sister and brother-in-law a couple of doors down that can help get the girls to school. We had to call in that request this week.

Even though I've a routine and I've my sister and her family available, the planning takes it's toll.

So, when you see that the weekend calendar is empty, you jump for joy. Yeah, I jumped. I might have even danced when I watched the DVRed Oscars (was there something that happened?) and heard JT sing that peppy tune from Trolls.

Jumped and danced my way right over to a washing machine that chose not to bring in water when I popped the knob and put in my request for that miracle liquid. What? Let's try that again. Nope, no water. How about moving the dial to a different setting? Nah, water was not happening. What if I stare at it, place my hands on it and pray something like 'Dear God in heaven, we've just paid Chris' rent for the month and we bought him a new car and I just received the statement indicating I'm only level 1 at Nordstrom so I have some shopping to do and we don't have any extra money for repairs or a new washing machine'? Still no water.

I did this all while I was swishing a tablespoon of coconut oil around in my mouth. For 20 minutes. That's a long time without swallowing a thick liquid. That's quite a while not to laugh or talk. Oh, and that's time needed to help 'pull' out what I think is a cavity growing in one of my back molars.

In the middle of this travel week, I noticed and felt a swollen gum in the back of my mouth. I also had a little bit of constant dull pain around that swelling and the aforementioned tooth was a bit sensitive. I had a couple of lunches with colleagues during this travel week and had to remember to chew on the left side to avoid any out-loud recognition of the pain -- yeah, a scream or yelp. Maybe, I made a little noise at one point during a lunch and tried to play it off as a laugh or gasp at a comment. Etiquette people, business lunch etiquette at it's finest.

I didn't make the 20 minutes. I only did it for 10. I needed to focus on the lack of water in my washing machine. I needed to figure out how to get some laundry detergent soaked clothes out of the washer and down to my sister's house (remember she helps me at all times -- not just early school mornings). I needed to panic about the many loads of laundry needed to be done and the fact that Camille wouldn't have any leos for next week's many nights of gymnastics and yeah, I can go to a dark place really quickly and G is out of town and he would tell me we don't need to sell a car to pay for a new washing machine.

I needed to . . .

Walk away from the washing machine.

Watch the Oscars.

Make a list of Saturday activities: Put in HEB online order, get $17 in cash (for this savings thing I'm trying), pick up a jacket from Lucky Thread (new embroidered sayings) and go to the Nordstrom card website to earn 500 points (I need to get to level 2).

Take a couple of melatonin gummies.

Go to bed.

Pray a more normalized, non-selfish, unfrantic prayer asking God to provide water to come through the potentially scale-y pipes so laundry could be done this weekend (yeah, I watched a youtube video thinking there was a button to push or a switch to click to make water appear and instead I learned about scale build up in the tubes that required unplugging and using a special wrench and then, click pause on that).

As Scarlet and my friend Rach say, 'after all, tomorrow is another day.' (Wait, Rach quotes Prissy saying 'I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' babies.' That's another topic for another day. But it is still so funny. You should hear her say it. She is spot-on Prissy.)

In a movie that would probably win one of those golden statues, I wake up and all is fixed. (Fix was the 2017 Adams' plan and word.)

My tooth didn't hurt this morning. (I'm doing another round of oil pulling today. I'll go the full 20 minutes).

My girls were already up and dressed. Caroline finished her four readings and summaries.

Breakfast came together well.

HEB order was under $100.

And, the washing machine filled with water when I pulled the knob.

Guess what, friends. In today's fourth part, which starts about now, I'm shopping. Level 2 is on this year's horizon. Rach, what would Prissy say to that?