Greetings from Signal Mountain, TN, above Chattanooga, where I am visiting my brother and his wife and two young daughters. He had a serious accident a few weeks ago, and I’m pitching in for awhile. Yes, this is yet another reason I will be putting off starting writing Hell to Pay (Emily #3), but the outline is reaching completion, in fits and starts, and it’s probably better for it. A weekend talking through it with my husband/brainstorming partner, and I’ll be good to go! Meanwhile, I’m remembering what it’s like to rock a sleepy two-year old, to hear the peals of laughter that only comes from close-in-age siblings nose to nose whispering in bed when they’re not supposed to be, and to enjoy the simple words “I love you Aunt Pamboola.”
I’ve been entrusted with singing them to sleep at night, which is kind of my specialty. I know it’s supposed to be a soothing activity, but I confess that when I’m acting out the words, singing personalized versions, and using “feewing” in my voice, I might have the opposite effect. Which I love.
Eric traveled this week, too, for his job. Our youngest kept Petey—our one-eyed, overly-spoiled Boston terrier—at her apartment in College Station. She also swung by to feed/water/medicate animals at our place as needed. Here’s Petey shortly after Eric picked him back up from Susanne on the way back to Nowheresville (cutest dog ever alert!):
Oh, that smile!
It’s rained here all this week, but it’s still gorgeous. My bro and family live on 19 forested acres, and wild turkeys and deer roam their yard. I’ve managed to keep up with my sciatica recovery, walking and doing “30 days of yoga with Adrienne,” but I’ve blown it on my diet. I have two more weeks until my high school reunion. I will buckle down. I will, I will. And let my bangs grow, since I hacked away at them with a pair of dull scissors from my brother’s desk drawer today. Unfortunately, I cut them so short I couldn’t fix the crooked part.
Yes, they’re as bad as they sound.
Have a great weekend y’all.
That’s all I’ve got.