My brain is just not in the game this week. I mean, in real world related things. I can drift off an a tangent anytime, but man. I’m über distracted this week.
And can I just take a moment to say THANK YOU to everyone who read/commented/supported my sneak peak of Anything You Ask of Me. Seriously, you guys are the best! It was the best weekend for blog views and comments I’ve ever had! It was the trial run for the MFRW blog hops and, minor tech issues aside, it was a smashing success.
So, now I feel even more excited to get AYAOM edited, polished, and ready to go. I need about four more hours in my day, but it’s getting there. Woot woot.
And the big white elephant in the room. Valentines Day. Fake holiday, kids, fake holiday. But check it out, The Hubs brought me three pounds of my newest friends:
I feel like the Walrus in Alice in Wonderland right before he eats the baby oysters. I haven’t wept (yet) but I’ll admit. There was singing. There may have been an extra kick in my step.
Standing in the way of my total happiness is The Wedding Season. It’s looming on the horizon and this year, I’m in two weddings which is two more than I’ve ever been in. I am the matron on honor in my best friend’s wedding.
And on a side note. Really. Matron? Matron. False. I told her I like to think of myself more as Super Bridesmaid. I asked if I could get a tiara. The answer was no.
So, I bought my dress. Which is gorgeous. However, I bought it in a size 0. It was exciting, nay thrilling, at first.
And then I said, “Well, that was dumb Heather.”
Six months to go.
I had two pieces tonight after dinner. So fabulous. I’m probably going to stretch the consumption of my chocolate out over the course of several weeks. I call that getting his money’s worth. But yes, if calories didn’t count and consumption was based on how bad my week was going, I’d eat the whole box tonight. No doubt.
Fun fact: The Hubs and I got engaged the day AFTER Valentines Day. Picture it. Shippensburg Pennsylvania. 2003. We made a fantastic dinner of spaghetti and garlic bread. Cheesy garlic bread.
When the spaghetti was finished, someone–a someone who insists to this day he wasn’t even in the room when it happened–put the pot lid upside down on the pasta pot. The heat and steam suctioned the lid closed. Completely closed.
Catastrophe does not adequately describe the event as a whole. We had garlic bread for dinner, due to two facts:
1. We were broke college kids and
2. It was the middle of a blizzard.
He was mad.
So, the next day we went to Gettysburg. And he was all grumpy that we couldn’t get to “our” monument (where we first kissed) because half the roads in the park were closed. He barely talked to me as he made me hike through shin deep snow up Little Round Top and then over to Devils Den.
And I was 20 and was like, “This blows.”
A statement I retracted moments later when, as we stood on Devils Den, he gave me a ring.
Permission to swoon.
That was actually ten years ago tomorrow, which insane. How has it been ten years? When did I stop being 20 and start being 30? Sunrise. Sunset.
Hey, I look at it this way. Ten years older, ten years awesomer. And ten years hotter–take that 20 year old me! You might be someone’s mother–two someone’s mother–but cheers! Good for you!
See, tangent. I started blogging about my novel and now I’ve moved on to being hot. Lets go settle this with chocolate. It’s only right.