It's been crazy-busy at work for the past month and I barely had time to do what I needed to do let alone write a blog post. Don't worry though, you didn't really miss anything too exciting.
A few weekends ago my mom's coworker invited us up to her new home. She has a dog. Enough said. You know me and dogs.
This is me and Bella. She looks a lot like my dog Doc. She's a sweetie.
After that we went shopping at The Greene. OMG I fell in love with that place. Mom and I are heading back there this weekend. And I think Mamaw is going with us. Fingers crossed for good weather.
We've been having some nice weather around here and it's been amazing. And I can finally start to enjoy it.
A shot I took from the parking lot walking back into work one afternoon. I at least had photographic evidence of a nice day.
Last Saturday night I was making dinner, wondering when the heck Jeremy & Mason were coming home from the shop, when Mason texted me asking if I could bring dinner to them. At the shop. I was p-i-double-essed quite frankly but the mom in me had to feed my child (hence the hub's genius approach at having Mason text me) so after it came out of the oven I packed it all up. And by packed I mean: put tin foil on the 9x13 baking dish that was hot out of the oven, went to the basement to find paper plates and plastic forks because there are none at the shop, packed up the sour cream away from the hot food because...no one likes curdled sour cream, put my bra back on and headed to the shop. At 9pm. Hungry. And p-i-double-essed. Even though they were very thankful that I brought dinner. Yes, they were and yes they both said thank you.
I fixed their plates, kissed them goodbye, and headed home to eat. Or so that was the plan. I got home and decided it was too late to eat the dinner I had been craving all evening. (I did not think my stomach would approve of enchiladas at 10pm). As I was transferring the still-warm 9x13 baking dish to the fridge......it happened. Boom.
Hot enchiladas & a broken 9x13 baking dish on my hardwood kitchen floor.
I just stood there for a few minutes in shock. Then I cussed like a sailor. Would you believe that
shit enchilada sauce shot all over the place? Of course it did, it was still warm. My laundry room is to the right of the fridge. That crap shot into the washer as well as onto clean clothes and towels. I was still finding spots the next morning. And did I mention that the 9x13 baking dish was a Longaberger dish?? Needless to say I have not craved enchiladas since.
And this just blows my mind.
I still don't get it.
Today starts my birthday week. Or whatever.