And they danced

Last night my middle schoolers attended their Fall Dance. My oldest daughter and her friends did a group costume consisting of leggings, tees, and tutus. So, cute. My son dressed in all black, suite and tie. Blond, James Blond. They enjoyed themselves immeasurable. I can’t wait for the next dance!

Enter the Dragon


I think it’s punny. I think I’ll be doing more like this, maybe Hidden Dragon will be next.

Oh, and I found the cool stamp at

I’m thinking about getting the Tiger stamp next. ‘Cuz, you know, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. It could work.

Voices singing

When I was a kid we always had the radio in the car on playing the hits of the day. All of kids in the car would sing along to the song that was playing on the radio. Some of us cold even carry a tune. I remember those days fondly.

These days the lineup of hits has changed, yet I take great pleasure in listening to my kids singing to their favorite songs blaring from the radio as we run errands or I bring them home from school. Their sweet, clear voices belting out lyrics I really hope they don’t yet understand, brings a huge smile to my face. 

Silken tresses

When my oldest was little, I used to brush and style her hair every morning. Sometimes she’d want it in pig tales with bows, other times she’d want her hair in French braids. It’s been a while since she asked me to do anything with her hair. Frenchbraids

I was so tickled yesterday when she asked me to plait her hair into a “fish tail” braid. Now, I don’t have much time in the mornings. I had to choose between putting on eyeliner and on mascara, and braiding her hair.

Hmm, tough decision. Not!

She was very pleased with the results. She asked me to braid her hair again this morning. Looks like I’m going to be saving money because I no longer need eyeliner.

Flight of the caffeine bee

It’s an easy flight from San Diego to Tucson. Getting up at 5:00 in the morning to make a 7:30 flight? Not so easy, but we did it.

I wanted to throw away my coffee cup and napkin before we boarded the plane. I asked my husband if he knew where the trash can was. I may have asked where it was, but really, that was wife-speak for “will you please throw this away or me?” So, when he didn’t jump to the task, I asked him if he’d throw my trash away for me.

I was about to give him the look; you know which one I mean. This look could be interpreted as long-suffering or irritated; or maybe it might mean if you rubbed two brain cells together, you might spark a clue! Fortunately, I looked at him before spearing him with “the look.”

“Oh my god! I thought you were my husband! I’m so sorry” Boy, was my face red.

The gentleman behind the man-who-was-not-my-husband was vastly amused, and he made mention of the looks on both of our faces between his guffaws. Of the three of us, the man-who-was-not-my-husband didn’t find the situation nearly as humorous as did the gentleman and me.

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