Two Years

It's hard to believe on this day at about this time two years ago, I was just about to wreck my car, fall down some stairs, and walk down the aisle to Willi—wearing the exact same shoes I'm wearing today, as a matter of fact.

It's been smooth sailing since I survived the wedding. 

I wouldn't do a thing differently.

Tonight: we're eating at the Blue Heron Inn. They supposedly have a big plate glass wall that overlooks the lake in La Porte. So, we're going to check that out.

In other news: I may actually barf today. I'm hoping I'm wrong about that, though. I'm at least having some stomach trauma today . . . so . . . that's happening.

I got to see most of my Monday Girls on Saturday. That was a lovely, refreshing little visit. It'd been awhile since I had laughed so hard I cried at something other than Willis. 

It was good to see people at John and Monica Pedigo's thingy-moo-bobber, too. It's too bad I didn't see those kids longer, but we're hoping/planning to see them all again soon. I just wish I was Superwoman and could turn off the tiredness when I wanted to . . .

Sidenote: my boss is in Africa for nearly three weeks. This could get interesting.

Yesterday, I spent the whole day taking random naps everywhere. I took one on the couch (our old, uncomfortable couch, fyi, since we still don't have the new one), one outside on the chaise lounge, and one in the hammock. It was pretty serious. I tried working on stuff between naps, but I didn't accomplish much. I need to clean my house badly and do laundry, but I'm too tired to do it. I keep looking at all the dirt and clothes and pet hair, and I kind-of want to cry . . . sooo tired. I still have to go through all the maternity clothes in my basement, and I can't bring myself down there to do it—plus, I have to wash all of them 'cause they're smelling a bit funky from sitting in my basement so long. *sigh* Willi says he'd help me, and I may actually have to let him try (I usually don't let him do much cleaning because his standards of cleaning are different from mine.) I just have to muster up the brain cells to tell him what to do . . . Hah!

Happy Anniversary, Willi!