Alec was out of town last week, and that always makes for a long week.
My dishwasher was broken. Which isn't a big deal unless you bake 3 loaves of bread and a batch of bagels, and then it's a huge pain in the ass. But y'know that hubs came home, took it apart and fixed, I can just push that button and my dishes come out clean and hot.
I have a paper due next week, which, unfortunately will mean another week of only 144 character updates from me. I'm not terribly stressed about the paper. I keep having little bursts of inspiration - yesterday during class, I managed to outline it a bit, and I wrote another piece of it during the sermon at church today. Once I have time to sit down and weave these bits together, it should be fine.
Lindsay started Mommy & Me at a new preschool. Lindsay never wants to do what anyone else is doing, so it is instead of this nice bonding time where we sing songs, me singing songs and chasing Linds around trying to get her to sit still for two freaking minutes while every other kid in the room is doing exactly what they are supposed to with their mommies holding little babies in their laps. There was a 10 minute "I don't want to have a snack tantrum". I'm hoping this preschool will work for her for the fall, but so far it is just making me want to pull out my hair.
I was approached today to speak about the things I'm doing with our food, and I am feeling sort of anxious about the idea. I feel like the things I'm doing now are good and work for me and my family, but the thought of it framed like "this is how to do it" seems jarringly wrong to me. I have to think about it some more.