I finally hung my make-shift Valentine's Day banner over the weekend. It consists of white sewing thread strung between the woebegotten hardware from ruffly curtains gone by and last year's punched magazine hearts.
It took me two weeks to get the gumption to stop staring at the pile of hearts on my desk and do something about 'em.
Can we all just agree that when taping paper scraps to thread becomes too daunting, the mojo has officially left the building?
I don't even know if that last sentence makes sense and I'm too tired to look twice.
Dang you, runaway mojo.
They'll be up for a while. Mark my words.
Siley helped me hang them. He calls them my "pretty lightswitch".
Love that baby boy, but don't tell him I said that or he'll scream, "I not a baby! I a good boy!"
"Son, your ego's writing checks that your body can't cash."
Oh, if you only knew how many times I've seen this movie. And I don't even like re-seeing movies.
It can help you forget that you just wiped poop off of three surfaces, one of which was the bottoms of tiny feet. 7 doctor's appointments in one week? But a distant memory. The worst dinner you've ever made in the history of your culinary life? Fuggetaboutit.
String 'em up. Tell me I'm wrong.
I have one more thing and it's the very best thing, which is why I saved it for last. My friend Amy put together The. Coolest. Thing ever in honor of this, the Month de Amor (just made that up, betcha couldn't tell).
It's called Love Letters to the Underloved. I was honored to contribute a letter to adoptive mamas. The e-zine is so gorgeous and the truth inside will split your heart at the seams.