I didn't see that one coming.

Happy Valentine's Day, Blog World!


Now, in years past, I would have regaled you with tales of how I made tissue paper flower bouquets for the kid's teachers, and covered pretzels in red candy coating, and led my third grader's class party (followed immediately by volunteering with L's girl scout troop), and made cupcake fondue for the kids for dessert--and yet still felt like a failure for not fashioning some sort of breakfast food into the shape of a heart.  Isn't that the truth, friends--we can use an entire bottle of red food coloring on various valentine baked goods, and yet STILL feel like a douche for NOT waking our children to a balloon arch and magic show (damn you, Pinterest).  


But not this year, because I am sort of cutting out all that crafty b.s. in an attempt to streamline this blog.  As a disclaimer, I WILL still post about my craft endeavors if:  something explodes, or something dies, or I permanently stain my skin, or I permanently scar my skin, or I lose a toe/finger, or I learn how to monogram my skin.  But mostly, I am smart enough to know that no one is particularly impressed with my ability to create Abraham Lincoln's likeness out of felt--but rather, you guys are here because my brand of sarcastic, sweat-pant-wearing SEX sells.  


There is SO much I want to tell you.  SO. MUCH.  But I can't--even as I am having the best and worst week of my life, simultaneously.  This whole process of finding a new house has been incredibly simple and amazing, until it all became very complicated and life-changing.  Just when I thought I was all kinds of flexible, and going with the flow and *unconventionally* free, I find some sort of strong hold that I just can't bring myself to let go of.  Boy, do I like to cling to what is comfortable and predictable.  


The short of it is--we are moving.  SOON.  And we are changing school districts, heading into Kirkwood, where we imagined this whole little adventure was going to take us, back before we fell in LOVE with Webster (our current district).  Eight months changes everything, friends.  But, when I tell you the whole, authorized and unabridged version of the story, I think you'll agree that this is the way it was meant to be.  And it is so much GREATER than I could have imagined it would play out--minus the part where my kids have to move schools.


In a month.