It's been more than a month since I posted.
A couple of weeks ago, Brandon said, "You haven't posted anything for a while." Then he said, "I think it's time."
Huh?
Brandon might be joined to me at the hip for forever whether he likes it or not, but he only reads this when I tell him to. And I don't know why I tell him to. All I ever get is an understated, "I liked it."
So why does he have an opinion about how often I post, I'd like to know.
Anyway, two more weeks have passed and...nothin'. The muse is on vacation.
She doesn't like being bossed around.
Today I got my Annual First of Spring Sunburn. It hurts when I scratch my forehead and I look a little bit lobster-y. I do this
every year. Lovely day. Go to park. Stand in the sun and chat with a friend. Have lunch, push swing, collect sandy sneakers. Go home. A few hours later, roughly brush hair our of my face and damn it. Again.
My husband who never, ever swears said, "I dunno. That's a pretty common word." That's what I call permission. Oh, and now he's talking about Jay Golden Kimball. We compare ourselves to General Authorities in this house and...oh he's still talking, "Our Stake Presidency was talking about sex in the chapel."
Well, not sex
in the chapel.
Have I successfully recused myself from any church callings yet?
I'm sitting here with waning courage, and Brandon says, "Go ahead Baby, share it with the world."
