Up to my ears in baby stuff, working on favors for my sister's shower. We're doing sort of a floral theme--A Baby Is Blooming!--isn't that cute? We have all kinds of sweet little surprises. The floral in the little circle is from Rhonna Farrer, by the way.
I'm searching for shoes to wear to the shower--all I have are heels and my foot is still not okay. The latest theory is that it's a stress fracture. This is a little upsetting to me for a couple of reasons, but primarily because I realize that if I don't start cutting back on the Diet Lime Cokes that my whole skeleton will become a stress fracture. (I won't say how many I'm up to per day, it's a lot.) Also trying to decide if it's okay for a grown woman to wear footless tights/leggings with a skirt. 'Cause I really want to but there's a fine line between Audrey Hepburn and Hillary Duff. And I really shouldn't cross it. (Stream of conciousness...try to follow: shoes, feet, tights...)
I bought a bottle of whiskey (I hear Pete Yorn when I read that) tonight at the grocery store. It felt a little weird seeing it on the belt with all my very family grocery items. Alton Brown has a ham recipe that involves whiskey and a squirt bottle...really. I couldn't make that up. It's darn tootin', too. So, I told D the whiskey was for Easter. He didn't even flinch.
No comments:
Post a Comment