Violations

Hmm.

I think it might be time to declare the kitchen a no-parking zone.

I bet Alexa would be a top-notch enforcement officer if she didn't happen to be one of the main culprits. You know, conflict of interest and all that...

On Grumbling

It's hard enough to wake up in the morning and already be at work. It's doubly hard when you wake up and realize that you are somehow already behind.

I'll admit, the instant behindness put me in a bit of a grumbly mood this morning... 

...until I saw that Spencer was diligently cleaning his kitchen as well, and then I felt a little better.

Along with the fact that, this morning, unlike Saturday morning, I didn't have to give a certain unnamed toddler a bath after he tried to wash his hair with toilet water, or clean up a glass jar of broken chili sauce in the pantry, thanks to an unnamed but well meaning 4-year-old.

I need to remember that there will always be something to grumble about; the important thing is whether or not I decide give into it and let it ruin my day.

We make the choice...

                                to grumble...                                                                or not to grumble.

Out of Gas

On Friday, I ran out of gas. In the normal course of things, Fridays are usually when I run out of gas after a long, full, busy week. Figuratively, anyway. On Friday, I ran out of gas literally. First time in my life. After a traumatizing childhood incident in which we ran out of gas during a family vacation and I was convinced that we were all going to die anonymous deaths in the middle of the desert, I vowed that I would never, ever in my life, even get close to running out of gas.

 On Friday, I broke my vow.

Thankfully, since I knew my tank was very nearly empty, and since we both needed to fill up together anyway (thank you Fry's fuel points...sorry if we aren't supposed to fill both cars up in one transaction, but, well...you know how it is) Craig and I were driving together when IT happened. (Remember...the thing I swore would never happen?) He saw me pulling over and pulled over right away, too. Then we had a good laugh as we drove home for the gas can. (That would have been a little too convenient for the gas can to have actually been in one of the vehicles, no?)  I guess we'll pay more attention to that fancy "range" feature I have in the van and maybe actually go by what it says next time.

I felt super grateful that Craig was there to save the day.

(He's quite handsome, I must say, even when he is cutting holes in my ceiling or 

accidentally ripping the tassels off of Savanna's handlebars with the fan in his blower.)

So handsome and wonderful, in fact, that I decided to help him move approximately one ton of cement blocks from the garage to the backyard to make room in said garage for more backyard project materials.

(Well, technically I moved about one block for every two he moved, but hey, it was something.)

P.S. After yet another torrential rain storm on Saturday, (in which the children and I were in the car making our way back home and Savanna thought we were going to die) our backyard looks like a chocolate river is running through it.

P.P.S. I do NOT recommend tasting it, however.
I mean, we all know what happened to poor Augustus Gloop.

(You boiled him up, I know it!)

How I Love the Lex

 Dear Alexa,

You are my favorite four-year-old in the whole world. You make me laugh, you make me wonder, and you help me feel needed. Thanks for always telling me what you are thinking. Thanks for emptying the silverware from the dishwasher 7 out of ten times when you are asked. Thank you for helping me feel grounded by reminding me that I'm "the best mommy...just a little bit worse than Daddy." Thank you for being my shopping pal and helping me make important decisions about Halloween decorations, and for understanding with grown-up wisdom that sometimes we don't buy things because "they're not on sale." Thank you for singing with your whole soul for twenty minutes your made-up song about how little kid shows are boring now that you are no longer a baby. Thank you for giving life and a voice to everything from nail polish bottles to honey wheat pretzels from Trader Joe's. Thanks for wanting to learn your letters and numbers, for remembering the order of our family's birthdays, and for drawing me a picture every day. Thank you for starting all of your sentences with "Oh!" and for helping me pick out my outfits. Thank you for thinking that Toys R Us is really called "Toys R Ross." Thanks for your creative ensembles, your ridiculous amounts of energy, and for being such an awesome big sister. Thank you for Chapstick kisses before we snuggle up for a nap.

Thanks for being the one and only you and for loving me in your perfect, four-year-old way.

Love,

Your favorite Mommy

After School At Our House: Fact vs. Fantasy

Running wild in my vivid imagination are myriad scenarios of peace, calm, and utter contentment in our daily after-school routine. Smiles are plentiful. Thankfulness is expressed. Everyone listens and cooperates while homework and other responsibilities are tackled.

It's a little ridiculous, I know, but in my mind, our afternoons look like this:

2:30: Pick up the girls from school; they express appreciation for the fact that I woke Spencer up early from a much-needed nap so that I could drive to their school and get them

2:35 School-Age Children quickly put their belongings away without being asked

2:40: School-Age Children start and complete their homework in a reasonable amount of time-- independently--while Preschool-Age Daughter plays quietly and Toddler eats a healthy snack seated in his booster seat (also quietly).

3:00: All children (minus Toddler) ask nicely if there are any jobs that need to be done before they begin their afternoon of clean, quiet, cooperative play.

3:15-Bedtime: Quiet play, delicious dinner that everyone loves and eats, baths, pajamas, bed.
In essence, all is right with the world 

Well, I did say vivid imagination, remember?

Needless to say, in reality, things tend to unravel a little more dramatically (and loudly) in the afternoons than indicated in the above scenario. It usually starts with a complaint from School-age Children that I am late picking them up. As soon as we walk into the house, backpacks and lunch bags throw up violently onto the counters and floor while Toddler cries at the garage door because he wants to go back outside. School-age Children fight over who gets help with their homework first (thank you, Common Core Curriculum for rendering my once independent children completely helpless when it comes to their math homework), Preschool-age Child also vies for my attention and/or sings a little too loudly in the background, Toddler climbs on the table and pounces on unattended pencils and paper (and is removed), Preschool-age Child asks for candy, gum, and a snack, usually in that order, Toddler starts emptying the junk drawer in the kitchen, then climbs onto the table again, this time with a poopy diaper (that'll teach me), a fight erupts while I am changing said poopy diaper, someone is crying because the homework is too hard, Toddler plays in toilet water, Preschool-age Child is screaming at somebody, etc., etc., etc...

Honestly, it puts me out of breath just thinking about it. 

But, to be fair, there are some highlights. Like the fact that Savanna is genuinely happy to see me at the end of a long day at school. Or that Julia and I have started writing secret messages to each other in her school agenda that I sign daily. And that sometimes, just sometimes, Alexa takes the initiative and pushes Spencer around in his tricycle and buys me three minutes of peace while I help with homework.

It may be a perfect storm, but it's my perfect storm, and the fact that I brave it on my own means that every night I surely deserve that bowl of dessert cereal snuggled up next to Craig on the couch while White Collar plays on the TV.

And that's the part of the day when all really IS right with the world.

Another gold star for me for making it through.

Boy With a Bike

Spencer's got a new ride. It's a convertible tricycle that starts out as a stroller and ends as...well. a tricycle. I had plans to get it for him for Christmas, (well, technically Santa had plans) but then my trusty voice of reason reminded me that by Christmas, our nice weather is just about halfway over, so we should probably just get it now and enjoy it while we can. (Which is hopefully soon!)

(Craig had a blast putting it together, by the way. I have it on good authority that he can't wait until Spencer outgrows the stroller feature and it needs to be converted.)

This little Radio Flyer has yet to take its maiden voyage outside since it is still 90-something degrees all darn day (and also because there are still thousands of mosquitoes outside), but it sure has put on a lot of miles around the house. Basically Spencer cries to climb either into or out of it all day. Lexa has been very accommodating about pushing him around in it, when she is not squeezing her own self into it and taking joy rides around the house. Spencer particularly enjoys the cup-holder feature, while Alexa likes the trunk space for her blankets and sundry treasures. 

I just like it when they are playing together!

Remnants

Sometimes life passes by so quickly that all I see are the remnants of what has recently transpired right under my nose. 

Other times, I am hiding in the other room and eventually must face the consequences.

{remnants of a clean car}

We seldom get the car washed, so  Craig took advantage of a local high school fundraiser 

and took the car to get hand washed on Saturday. 3 hours later, it looked like this.

And, it still does.

{remnants of a zoo}

Sunday morning play involved creating animal enclosures all 

over the house (and I mean all over) along with awesome zoo maps. Sadly, 

this one had to be cleaned up in a hurry before our home teacher came over.

{remnants of a weekend}

Found this beauty outside my bedroom door on a Monday morning.

Not sure what was happening here...stuffed animal toboggan, perhaps?

Anything is possible with these chickies.

{remnants of breakfast}

I love that Lexa pulled out the big guns to get to the milk at the bottom 

of her cereal bowl. I mean, she may not have been able to reach it otherwise...

We've Got Spirit (Yes We Do...)

Spirit Week at the girls' school this week. Long socks, crazy hair, and pajamas abounded. Oh, and there was also "dress like a hero" day. Julia chose to dress like me; very flattering I know, but I suspect it might be because she wanted to wear my clothes and earrings to school. Lex got in on the action and dressed up, too. It's par for the course for little Miss Actress, who usually has 1-3 costume changes a day, so she was definitely in her element. (As you can see below, she is perfecting her rapper pose. You never know what kind of role she might be auditioning for next.)

In other news:

 Craig continues to brave the summer heat, spending his mornings digging holes, planting trees, and installing irrigation lines in our barren backyard. I tell you, it sure is lovely to see a little bit of green out the back windows instead of desert brown covering every single inch.

I hit the Goodwill half-off sale like a maniac yesterday, searching for materials for a top-secret holiday project I'm working on. 3 trips to two Goodwill stores in one day. Now that's what I call a Saturday. (If the project doesn't turn out the way I want, it can just stay secret, too. That's the beauty of not spilling the beans, friends.)

Lexa asked me today, while she was putting the silverware away and I was cleaning in the other room, "So, you want the kids to do ALL the work?" It's so wonderful to be appreciated.

After I told Julia that I had just said something that wasn't meant for her ears, she goes, "You should always expect my ears to be listening." (This is true...and I should also always expect her to read my text messages.)

Mornings are cooling off just the tiniest bit, but the mugginess has got to go. Oh, and also the mosquitoes that are eating us alive every time we go outside.

Looking forward to putting the kids to bed as soon as possible (thank you, earlier sunsets!) and secret projecting the night away...if I can convince Craig to lend me a hand, that is. Hope your weekend was beautiful!

Friday Confessions (The "Sometimes" Edition)

Sometimes, in the interest of eliminating clutter, saving time, and/or preserving my sanity, I throw things away. You know...other people's things. Crayons. Polly Pocket shoes. Batteries that may or may not work. Half empty snack bags. Art projects. Errant tubes of lip gloss. Peter Piper trinkets. Abandoned toothbrushes. Rocks. (Yes, there are a lot if those around here, and some of them even have names).

Sometimes I feel bad about the above. And then no one notices or misses any of it. So then I do it some more.

Sometimes I wish I could throw Husband's stuff away, too. But then I think of the time that I gave the girls our entire packet of insurance paperwork to use for scratch paper because I thought we had cancelled the policy. (We hadn't. They had to send the paperwork again.) And so now I don't throw his stuff away anymore...because he just might notice.

Sometimes I go to Target for diaper cream and I buy diaper cream and also three shirts for myself. (Only when they are only $3 on the clearance rack, though, I promise.) Because...

Sometimes I just want to look cute.

Sometimes I chew a piece of gum when I should brush my teeth instead.

Sometimes I tell my kids "no" even before they have the chance to spout off their question and/or request. As in, "Hmm-mm, it doesn't matter what you want right now. Just...no."

Sometimes I don't make the kids eat any vegetables with their dinner.

Sometimes I make myself a peanut butter and honey sandwich for lunch even when the kids aren't having one. With chocolate milk. And Pirate's Booty.

Sometimes my obsession with Pirate's Booty reaches the point of eating it out of the bottom of the toy bag where it has tragically spilled. (It's good stuff, matey...that thar be the truth.)

Sometimes I bring a bag of Pirate's Booty in the car with me when I pick the girls up from school.

Sometimes I share it with them.

Sometimes I don't.

Sometimes I realize at 5:00 pm that I am out of the tomato sauce that I need to make Spanish rice with dinner.

So, sometimes we use our Burger King coupons instead.

Okay, I think that I have made sufficient confessions for today.

Because sometimes Craig reads this. And I don't want to give away all my secrets. 

If It Ain't Broke...

Well, I knew that it would happen eventually; one of our kids would probably break a bone. What I wasn't prepared for was that my baby would be the first to do it.

Yep. Spencer fell off the bunk bed steps on Friday afternoon and landed awkwardly on his arm. He has probably fallen hundreds of times in his short little life, but has never had any issues until now. He was pretty fussy over the weekend, so we decided to take him in to his regular doctor on Monday morning just to be sure everything was okay. Even as I was making the appointment, I was certain that he was fine, (I mean, the kid never stops!) and his doctor even thought that he had probably just bruised his collarbone or something. She ordered x-rays anyway, because she is super thorough (which is just one reason why I love her) and called later that day to let us know there was an actual fracture. It's in his cute little upper arm. (Because everything on Spencer is cute and little, in case you didn't know.)

We didn't even get a sling for him until Wednesday when we went and saw a pediatric orthopedic doctor. (No cast, though...the fracture doesn't go all the way through the bone and should be completely healed in a couple of weeks, thank goodness.) He hates the sling. In fact, the worst part about that appointment (besides trying to entertain a busy baby for almost an hour while waiting in an exam room) was trying to get that thing on him. (Oh, and also the part where I wouldn't let him climb on the chair and turn the lights off while the doctor was in the room. He was pretty upset about that, too.) (Spencer, not the doctor).

Yesterday he only wore the sling for half the day, but I was better about making him keep it on all day today. He still cries and runs when he sees me coming towards him with it, but once it's on, he does okay. And, he is slightly more careful with it on, not using that arm quite as much as when he has it off. (He still uses that arm more than I would like, though.) (You know, 'cause he's kind of a maniac.)

Hopefully in a couple of weeks, he will be completely better and this month of falling and x-rays will be behind us.

(I wonder if our insurance is wondering about all of these "accidents" that are going on at our house these days...)

On Perfection

Today I read this wonderful post on my sister's blog. (Shameless plug, I know, but if you read it, you will be glad you did.) She lists five reasons why you are a good enough parent. You. Me. All of us.  It made me laugh, nod heartily in agreement, cry, and then laugh some more. It got me thinking about our obsessions with perfection (both individually and as a society) and how hard we are on ourselves when we don't achieve what we imagine to be perfection: a perfect life, the perfect home, perfect hair, a perfect body, perfect talents, (insert insecurities here.) You name it, we wish we had it, or did it, or looked it, and when we realize, or remember that we don't, somehow we see ourselves as deficient, perhaps even undeserving of love, or a wonderful life.

So, I say to us:

Stop.

Stop now.

Because yes, the Lord asks us to be perfect, but not to set us up for failure. Not so that we can look in the mirror and scrutinize every sag, wrinkle, and stretch mark. Not so that we glance around our messy, or small, or undecorated homes and shudder with embarrassment. Not so that when we consider our child-rearing missteps we declare ourselves the worst parents in the world. In fact, I'm pretty certain that most of the things that we obsess about are things that really don't matter at all in the scheme of things. I've never read one scripture deriding crumbs on kitchen counters, or choosing a bad paint color, or cellulite. (But maybe there's one out there, in which case I'm in BIG trouble.)

No, the reason He asks us to be perfect is because He wants us to try. He wants us to try hard. To have a good life. To be kind. To reach out to others. To love without judgment. To help someone in need. To support and sustain. And He wants us to remember that we need help, that we cannot do the things that He has asked us to do without Him being part of the deal, without allowing Him to be the partner He has promised us He will be if we let Him.

There will be bad days, where there are dishes in the sink and crumbs on the floor, and something that smells bad in the fridge that we don't have time to root out and toss. There will be days when the Patient Parent we would love to be takes a backseat to CrazyRantingLunatic Mommy or Daddy. Days when we watch too much TV, or don't answer the phone, or aren't there for a friend. There will be days when we are so sad, or anxious, or tired, that we are certain we will not be able to function at all.

And that's okay.

Because each moment, each day, we are granted another chance. And even if we can't do better right then, or even in the next moment, there will always be another second and minute and hour after that for us to keep trying.

So, I say, carry on. Know that you do amazing things. Know that you are loved, that you fulfill a unique role that can never be replaced.

(Spencerkins, who cannot walk perfectly in high heels but loves himself and keeps trying anyway.)

And, well, if none of that helps you, then think of this: reaching for perfection and falling short sure seems a whole lot better than attempting mediocrity and missing entirely.

Boy, do we fall short. But that's just fine.

Happy Mom and Some Messages from LH

Hey, guess what? 

That's right... 

This is the face of a mommy with two fully functioning hands. I am back to work (and I mean work) and better than ever. Heck, I even made dinner tonight. Only Craig and I ate any of it. Looks like all is right with the world once again.

On that note, Left Hand has a few things he wants to say.

Dear Wedding Ring,

Missed your squeezes. Good to have you back.
Love, LH

Dear Ace Bandage,

Thanks for all your support. (Ha! Get it? Support??) You were really there when I needed you, but believe me that I mean it in the nicest way when I say that I've got one less problem withoutcha.
LH

Dear Back Teeth,

You know, those little flossers are nice, but they can't quite get into the tight spaces. You and Me. Tonight. It'll be just like old times.
LH

Dear Right Hand,

Thanks for all the nice things you said about me. It's so nice to be appreciated. We make a wonderful team. Missed you, babe.

Love,
You Know Who

Rain Men

More torrential rain is supposed to be coming our way this week. 

Bad news for poor Craig, who has had to dig and re-dig gas line and irrigation trenches in the backyard 3 times now because of bad weather...

...but good news for Spencer, who loves nothing more than to go outside in a storm and sit in a puddle.

Sunday Lovin'

I love that no two sunsets are exactly alike. It reminds me of the way that, as individuals, we all have something very unique and different to offer, but that we are all equally beautiful and remarkable. I love knowing that another person's talent or beauty in no way diminishes our own. I love seeking out the good and wonderful in the people that I meet, and sharing some measure of love and kindness with them, no matter how brief or how subtle. I love that every day is a new chance to do better and more, as much as we are able. I love that we all have the potential to do amazing things.

(And I love this one ray of sunlight that just doesn't want to go to bed. Reminds me a little of myself.)

Soda Envy

Are you guys ready to be jealous? Check out these cool coke cans that Craig got at a kiosk at GCU on the first day of class there. They were FREE. Brilliant marketing, eh? I never thought a can of soda could make me smile so darn big. (In addition to tasting delicious, that is.)

And now we have the cutest little soda family there ever was. (Well, minus the soda...that's LONG gone, friends.)

Busy Girls & Broken Fingers

Alexa has amusing commentary on just about anything that's going on. Today, while I was putting a band-aid on the paper cut on her finger, she goes, "Okay, this is weird. Your hand is broken. My finger is broken. It's just so weird."

(Allow me to interject that neither my hand, nor her finger are actually broken, but apparently to a four-year-old, an ace bandage and a band-aid are clear indications of fractured appendages.)

Last night when I was putting her to bed, she was asking me if I've ever read her a long book. (I'm assuming she meant a chapter book, as they call them in schools nowadays. That's the word on the street, anyway.) She said, "Have you ever read me a long book? I mean like a long, long, LONG, long book." I told her that I know I have read the older girls long books before, but didn't think I had read her one yet. She nodded in a very understanding way and said, "Yeah, that's because girls like me are too busy for that."

Indeed they are.

{good thing she wasn't too busy to stop and enjoy this delicious Klondike bar...}

Bum Hand and Other News

So, my hand is still bugging me, even though today it's been ten days since I fell on it. (I'm feeling sillier and sillier about this whole thing as time goes on.) Two wonderful people brought us dinner last week to help out, which was such a lifesaver, and you better believe we made those meals stretch! Basically, we have had a lot of leftovers/cereal for dinner/rotisserie chicken nights because as soon as I start thinking about needing to make dinner, and all of the chopping and prepping involved with making just about anything, I totally balk; basically, that's the time of day when my trusty hand is hurting the worst and I'm feeling the least capable of accomplishing just about anything. (I blame cute Spencer and his homework-hour table-climbing shenanigans for that.)

Last night I caught Craig just in time on his way home from work to have him pick up some bagels so he could make his famous bagel sandwiches for us for dinner.
There are two things I love in particular about those things:

1) Craig makes them.
2) I don't.

Oh, and also, they are super delicious and go perfectly with Orange Julias, (as we like to call them around here.) Breakfast is the dinner of champions, that's what I say. Plus, did I mention that Craig makes them?

In other news, you will never believe this, but school in our district was CANCELED on Monday due to massive rain and flooding. Canceled. Can you imagine? I mean, we live in Phoenix. The only kind of inclement weather we have ever been exposed to is triple digit heat for 5 or 6 months out of the year, and that certainly doesn't keep us from going to school (though it does account for inside recess sometimes!) And not only did the girls not have school, but Craig's boss also texted and told everyone not to come in because the flooding was so bad. Sweet, right?

So, we did what any family would do when they find themselves with an unexpected free day: we watched lots of tv and took naps. It's really amazing how much you can get done in one day!

This is the flooded greenbelt across the street from our house. It seriously looked like a lake. Other greenbelts around the neighborhood were so full of water that people busted out their boogie boards and actually went swimming in them.

Dis. Gusting.

Christmas On Our Minds

I am trying something new this year. It's called: Start Christmas Shopping in August So That You Don't Have to Spend a Fortune On It In November and December. 

(This is a big deal. I am truly a procrastinator at heart; but, Saving Money trumps Putting Stuff Off, at least this year, so I'm going for it.)

Since I am starting early, that means I had to ask the kids recently what they wanted for Christmas. Of course, they diligently produced their lists; Julia's features a "yot," (don't worry, we won't really get her one until she learns how to spell it correctly), Alexa has requested all things beautiful, from "beautiful dresses," to "beautiful jewelry," and Vanna, our future entomologist, wants a "text book of bugs."

I didn't realize that asking for their lists at the end of the summer would fully insinuate Christmas into their brains so early in the season. (And by "early in the season," I mean, "not the Christmas season at all.)

Alas, I should have known better, for I am seeing touches of it all over now...

{tree}

{letter}

{The Santa Clause 2}

{Christmas music dance party}

And so, in the Monson house, on this day in early September, it's beginning to look...

...just a little...

...like Christmas.

Testing our Patriotism

Once upon a time, Craig painted Julia's toenails in fabulous patriotic colors and designs for the 4th of July.

Then he let her paint his nails, because that's the kind of cool dad he is.

And then she proceeded to voice her disappointment that he would be removing the nail polish before he went to work the next day. I believe the conversation went something like this:

Julia: Are you going to keep the polish on for work tomorrow?

Craig: Uh, no.

Julia: Why not?

Craig: Honey, I am a professional. I work in an office. I can't just show up to work with nail polish on.

Julia: Oh what, so they would fire you if you came to work with your fingernails were painted?

I mean, we're patriotic and all. But we do have to draw the line somewhere.

My Boy

This is Spencer.

He has fuzzy hair.

And a winning smiling.

Sometimes, he eats shovels.

Oh, I love him so.

On Mess & Stress

In an effort to enjoy life more and stress less, I have been really trying to be better about letting some things go. (Don't ask Craig how I am doing in this department. It's an ongoing process and any progress is likely invisible to him. But it's happening. I promise.) Part of this "letting go" has to do with the constant messes that dot our beautiful, homey landscape. I have been letting the girls leave their toys out so they can play with them the next day, instead of having them clean up before bed each night, and I just close their bedroom door so that I don't have to look at the chaos. Works for them. Works for me.

Yesterday, though, was a mandatory clean-up day. It had been a long while since their room resembled anything that a vacuum cleaner could actually traverse, and it was time. So they worked their hearts out and cleaned & vacuumed, and finally got it looking pretty pristine for one treasured day.

Less than 24 hours later, it looks like this again:

I will take this time to say that I am so glad that they are young enough to still want play with toys, that they play TOGETHER (albeit with the occasional scream and/or slammed door), that they still use their imaginations constantly, and that they haven't turned the television on at all today,

These are very wonderful, rare things, that I both recognize and appreciate. This time in their childhoods is so precious, and fleeting, and so I'm going to say, "play your little hearts out while you can, my sweeties...

...but please, please close your door and save me from the mess".

P.S. Our camera is totally broken. It was in Craig's pocket when we went skating last Monday, and he fell on it, and now the screen is cracked and the focus is all weird. It kinda looks like I focused on one part of the picture intentionally, but nope, it's just the funky camera. Busted hand, busted camera...Labor Day was a bang-up day for us!

More Hawaii Love

Oh baby, would you please look at what I just learned how to do...*

More delirious fun from Craig, Julia, and Linda's trip to beautiful Maui in July. They took surfing lessons, went ziplining, took helicopter tours, traveled the road to Hana, went to a luau, swam in the hotel pool, snorkeled, and enjoyed scrumptious meals and tropical drinks all the live-long day.

(That is, when they weren't sitting around pining for moi.)

They had so much fun that I {almost} was not jealous that they were playing in paradise while I stayed here and got sweaty in the desert.

P.S. *Blogging will officially never be the same.