And so forth.
Up to and including, "We must! We must! We must increase our bust! The bigger the better the tighter the sweater, the boys depend on us!" which is what we were supposed to chant when we did bust-enhancing exercises.
What does this have to do with anything? Not a damn thing. I just had that on my mind this morning. And then I took my walk. It's cooler here today and lovely and clear and the beauty berries are blooming and the pyracantha (which is the orange berried plant I posted a picture of from the island) and all sorts of wildflowers, yellow ones and purple ones and blue ones and no, I do not know their names but the butterflies know the taste of their nectar and they love them.
I ordered a birthday present for Owen a week or so ago and since it hasn't arrived, I started checking on that and pretty soon I had our postmistress involved and now I do believe that the damn thing has been returned. You'd think I lived in the middle of nowhere instead of fifteen miles east of the state capitol. I swear to you, if you try to mapquest my house, you get lost. It sends you off in the wrong direction. I sort of like that and sort of wish people would just freaking CALL ME when they want to find my house to deliver something. Instead, they just drop shit off in Monticello at the post office and those people don't know what to do with the stuff so they send it back. I HAVE A STREET ADDRESS!
It is confusing. My street address and post office box address are both listed as "Lloyd" but in all actuality, there is only one real town in all of Jefferson County and that's Monticello. Lloyd isn't a town at all. It's not even really a village. Mostly it's a truck stop.
So. Whatever. Now I need to go to Toys Are Backwards Us and see if they have this thing Owen wants for his birthday and I also need to buy about fifty birthday cards and a present for Lily whose birthday is the day after Owen's. If you do the math, you will see that babies conceived between Christmas and New Years have birthdays just about this time of year and I obviously know a lot of people whose parents had New Year's Eve sex.
Lily was my only child who was consciously conceived and it was not on New Year's Eve but the day after Christmas. I tell you what- I think that her spirit was completely happy up there in Baby Heaven and that she was PISSED OFF to be called to earth by me and her daddy. Or at least, that's sure what it seemed like for the first, oh, twenty years or so of her life. Now that she's a mama, I think she's pretty happy to be here.
Who wouldn't be happy to be here with a baby boy who looks like this?
And again, no, there is no point to any of this. My mind is just racing off in all directions and I need to focus, people, FOCUS, and I'm sure there's a motivating slogan I could remember to help me with this but all I can think of is Good, better, best...
Which is not helping and frankly, I wish my breasts were smaller so that other slogan won't help either.
And why did they call breasts a bust?
Happy Monday, y'all.