This will be a “newsy” post, as my mom would say.
On Monday, I leave for Spain for two weeks. I’ll be going with my dad and two friends, but no Mom. She’d been planning on going, but a nasty spill forced a change of plans. Dad and I will miss her, for sure. We’ll have fun, anyway, but I’ve never traveled overseas with Mom and was rather looking forward to it. Another time.
So I’ll be going, tagging along and keeping Dad company while we enjoy our 5 days of planned events, and then the improvised remainder of the two weeks. I had to get a new passport, of course, and that’s always a bummer to me. I like to accumulate stamps on those blank pages, but it seems that the system always insists on me having to start all over again, just when I’m starting to make some progress. Oh well.
Packing needs to begin today (along with everything else!), and it promises to be interesting this time around. I have been very abundantly blessed this past birthday week with lots of maternity wear. And yes, believe it or not, at a mere three months, it’s become a necessity. I’m popping, more and more every day. People say that I look well on my way to being my mother all over again, to which I reply, quite simply, “Oh dear.”
Anyway, packing. I’ll need to sort out what fits now, what will fit later, and what might not still fit in two weeks. And of course, turn it all into outfits that look nice. (None of this jeans-and-big-sweater stuff.)
In the meantime, while I’m enjoying spring in full swing over in Spain and Morocco, it will be creeping in the Northern New York while I’m gone. Those crocuses I can smell on a mild day will be popping, and we’ll be only weeks from Easter. In an ideal world, I would pull all of my Easter decor out of the attic (okay, “all” makes it sounds like a much larger stash than this freshman at housewifery actually has), and have it up for Ryan to enjoy for the next two weeks.
Speaking of Ryan, if any of you who read this live in a close proximity to our apartment, feel free to have him over for dinner. If you play tennis, volunteer to be his opponent sometime. Or just call him to make sure he’s not going mad in this little apartment, all alone, day and night.
Okay. So, enough blah blah blah.
My thought for this morning, and then we’re done:
I have been young and now I am old, yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken or his descendants begging gread. All day long he is gracious and lends, and his descendants are a blessing. –psalm 37
That’s going on my fridge.