Imagine that.

I haven’t a thing to write about. Other than the fact that I finished my class, pulling an A right out of my, erm, never mind. I’m still walking during the evenings despite my irrational fear of becoming a bear snack. I managed to maintain my sanity while the Husband went away on business to Pittsburgh and I played single mother to three monkeys for three days. Two spring concerts and one set of braces. Four new tires and one oil change. An almost successful triumph of night weaning and a tooth that refuses to breach a tiny mouth. A daily smearing of self tanning lotion and a mountain of laundry that rebuffs reduction. The Girl and I are growing our hair long together and the Boy and I have an upcoming date for the mother/son dance. My life is so dreadfully enlivening that I can hardly contain my enthusiasm. And here I ramble on about practically nothing while my very good friend is losing feeling in her face due to overwhelming anxiety and intensely pressing deadlines. Every now and again this indulgent life feels most undeserved.