As I sit here nestled in a warm blanket drinking hot tea, I can’t help but think about what a lie spring break really is. I mean, I feel like it should be called winter break if you live in Michigan because although calendars shift and spring has apparently arrived, I’m not buying it. Continue reading
It only stands to reason that my first March post includes the word madness because basketball and because, well, madness.
But back to basketball. I can’t talk about a tournament that rhymes with NCdoubleshmAA because we’re mad about it. So, I’ll jump even further back to January and February because that’s when the legit madness was ensuing. The good kind, that is.
The good news (for you) is that it’s Wednesday, my eyes are heavy and I have some photos to share so although I could get wordy, I’ll do my best to tell a little story with photos. Surely that story will be better than my ramblings anyway because Connor!
I’ve spent a fair amount of time at the pool lately. What I wish I had to show for it was a better tan and sun-kissed hair, but alas, all I can claim is a sore throat (from yelling) and an increased level of patience (from sitting in crowded, sort of smelly and largely unnavigable school pool areas).
I looked outside yesterday morning and sort of shrugged and thought, ‘ok, fine.’ In my opinion, if the temperature is going to hover around 30, we might as well see the white stuff. But not on the roads. Because people can’t drive. Or on sidewalks. I’d like to continue to wear flats. #toolazy
I was feeling all sorts of bummed out Saturday night when my own mother was rubbing her ‘moon pics’ in my face. Here in Michigan, the moon was shrouded in a sea of milky clouds. As much as I willed them to move aside, they just wouldn’t. And apparently in Florida where the Christmas season means you might get down to a chilly 50 degrees at night, the moon shone in all her splendor. The good news is that Sunday morning that moon was ridiculous bright. At 5:50. That’s a.m. I mean, I did thank the Lord for hearing my prayer and answering it so I could see that sucker but then I asked him why He is so humorous as to wake me up on one of my two days to sleep in. He hasn’t answered yet.
Did any of you even know that travel football was a thing? I didn’t either. Well, until about 3 weeks ago when Connor’s dad mentioned it was apparently a thing and that there was an opportunity to try out for a team not too far
(far enough to be annoying) from home. That isn’t the travel part.
I have to apologize in advance because I’m posting out of order. Is that ok? I mean, I guess I don’t have to ask but I don’t want you upset with me. Are you upset? Eh, it will be okay and you’ll get over it. I have to tell you a ridiculous story. I have to tell you something that will warm your heart on this chilly fall
pre-winter evening. And if it doesn’t, I hope your under a blanket and ate soup for dinner. And, you might not even have a soul.
I went for a drive today. I didn’t start with a destination in mind; it was actually more of a ‘anywhere but here’ style departure. I found my way towards Holland (second day in a row. i love that town.) and then, well … I headed north. I just felt like driving. I’m sorry. I can’t help but channel Forrest Gump sometimes. I stopped as much as I could all the while sensing I would end my route in Ludington. It made for a long day and seriously, a race into PJ Hoffmaster State Park when, at the last minute, I decided not to head home the quicker way, but to try and catch the remnants of the ridiculous sunset. I ran towards the beach and as the older folks were talking about how they were too late, I smiled because I’d just made it. Continue reading
You know how many (likely more seasoned and life-put-together type) travelers plan out their summer adventures well in advance of the season because well, #puremichigan? Heck, I’ve even heard of families logging on to state park websites around January 1ish to book their sites for the much-anticipated best this state has to offer. Well, what I’ve come to learn and accept is that’s just not me. Continue reading