On Not Acting My Age

Remember when I told you I rode with my parents and little sister to a wedding?  And then I stayed in the hotel room with them after creeping in with my jingly jangly dangly jewelry in the wee hours of the early morning.  And how I loved riding in the car that next morning.  Snuggled up in a blanket in the back with my sister next to me and my parents visiting in the front.  About how that made me feel like a kid again.  Remember how I told you about that?

Well now I'm here to tell you that sometimes I really enjoy the bajeebies out of acting the same age as my sister.  She is seventeen.  A senior in high school.  And because she is seventeen and a senior in high school, she does things like take pictures in front of mirrors.  It's a high school right of passage.  Or something like that.  Or maybe it's a twenty-eight year old who had some wine with her family at a wedding right of passage.  

Either way, here is what you end up with.  Courtesy of me and the Sister Pister.  

This behavior?  Appropriate for Sister Pister.  Not so appropriate for me and my forehead wrinkles.  But I will always be reminded of the hilarity we shared that night when I look at those pictures.  Memories.  Oh how I love them.  

The really exciting part of that evening was Sister Pister was allowed in the bar.  Now keep in mind my parents were present and the bride is not only our cousin, but also is Sister Pister's high school basketball coach.  So obviously, if Sister Pister was in the bar with me, it was totally a legal situation.  That didn't take away from the greatness of it all though.  As we sat there across from each other, with our legs crossed on high chairs, me with a glass of wine, her with a Shirley Temple...it made me think about the future.  When we will be able to hit the town together for real girl's night out without Shirley involved.  Sister sharing all her crazy college stories with me while I smile and nod remembering my own wild times.  It also made me think about the past.  About the times when she was a little kid who I wasn't able to talk about real things with.  Not because I didn't love her, but because she was eleven and it's not appropriate to share twenty-one year old stories with an eleven year old.  

Now though, when I'm sitting across from my sister and she is dishing about her latest boy and I'm popping right back with the latest dating ditty, my heart smiles.  Because we are equals.  Equals who get to talk about real things.  We are equals who understand each other and can listen to each other without either me trying to "parent" by giving her not wanted advice or her rolling her eyes at my goofiness.  We are finally to the good sister stuff.

I suppose we aren't total equals.  I have wrinkles.  She does not.   

Here's where I insert a random note that says this.  Neither one of those are my feet.  They are my cousin's on the left and Sister Pister's on the right.  And this is what they said to me while we were standing in the bar.  "Hey Amy!  Look!  IT'S COWBOYS AND INDIANS going on right here!"   

Funny girls.  They are the best kind.    

And later on, as I watched Sister Pister being flirted with by boys my age in the bar, I couldn't help but want to yell and star-jack when she said things like this back, "Thank you for thinking my boots are fabulous.  Because they are.  And the bride is my high school basketball coach.  What do you think about my boots now?"  

Yes she really said that.  I didn't actually star-jack.  That's hard to do in boots and a paisley dress, but I really did fist pump and turn to the guy I was visiting with and say, "Did you hear that?!"  Because my little sister is hilarious.  She is strong.  She is confident.  And she will be just fine in life.

Birthday Party Lady Strikes Again

My theme birthday addiction was fed once again.  This time, my fix came in the form of a wild monkey party for a little one year old poptart.

The birthday girl is a monkey for sure.  A cute monkey.

She is the daughter of my friends Brittany and Steve.  Brittany is the one who lets me steal her crafty ideas and who sends me messages telling me she is going to kick my ass when I start thinking too much and who I can always count on to be there for...well...everything!  And Steve does things like makes all of the food for the party.  Except chop the lettuce, Britt chopped the lettuce.  He cares and he jumps in and helps and that is husband-daddy awesomeness at its finest.

When we were shopping on Black Friday, I spotted the wanted rocking horse and yelled to Brittany, "I FOUND IT!"  And she literally squealed back.  Then we both did the happy dance in the middle of the aisle.  So glad I was able to be there to see the little monkey's reaction to her gift.  She love loved it.  

Really, I love their whole adorable family like they are my own family.  They mean that much to me.  Like I always say, I am extremely blessed to have the friends I do.  Because they share their moments with me. 

Just like every girl needs good friends in her life...every birthday party needs candles and cake.  And singing.  Can't forget the singing.  Cake smushing in the face too.  That's important. 

Theme birthday party fix.  Check yes.  Spending time on a Sunday afternoon with forever friends and their littles.  Double check yes.     

Otherwise Known as Heart Warmies

I forgot my lunch at home yesterday.  Packed it all up like I always do after the five in the morning run but before the first cup of coffee.  Then I missed the ever important step of taking it back out of the fridge when I was all done with my morning fluttering to bring it along with me for the adventure I call work.  

So Karen and I had Soup Wednesday lunch.  Soup Friday really has become a tradition.  It seems to me when you make a name for something, it usually does come to fruition.  There is this old fashioned place just up the street from where we work called The Rolling Pin.  Yes, the name says it all.  They do it up homemade.  And it has mint green wall paper and cute little ladies who help you.  We get our soup from there.  One quart.  Which gives us two bowls.  With two unsweetened iced teas to accompany the homemade soup goodness. 

While I was standing in line yesterday, the snow was falling down outside and my leggings tucked inside tall boots and striped finger gloves were delivering on their usual heart happiness.  Then it got even better.  In front of me was a gray haired, mismatched clothing elderly couple.  The wife walked over the bakery spin display case and said, "Oooooh!  Papa look at those caramel rolls."  The husband looked at his wife and said, "They sure do look good honey."  And I swear he still had a twinkle in his eye for that woman of his.  I know he did.  It made me smile and hope that when I'm old and gray and wearing mismatched articles of clothing, I will turn to my husband and call him Papa and he will look at me with a twinkle.

Warmed my heart.  Those two cute bugs warmed my heart.  

Which got me thinking about all of the heart warmies happening in my life lately.  It's like they've rallied and come swooping in.  Just when a girl needed them the most.  

Heart Warmie Number One.

On Monday night I received a text with a picture from my friend Karen.  The picture was of this artwork, which I have now stolen.  It was made by their first grade daughter when she was at a friend's house for a birthday party this past weekend.  Turns out she loves her family and she loves me.  That little stinker made my day with her addition of "and Amy" at the end of her story. 

Heart Warmie Number Two.

I had zero makeup on.  My hair had been put in a pony-tail while it was wet and my crazy curls were popping around all over.  I had on yoga pants and a white shirt.  And Santa slippers.  I was wearing Santa slippers.  In that moment I was told, "You're beautiful.  You're really beautiful."  Which made me laugh because I was totally nerd-herding it up.  I explained that I was not wearing make-up and to take a look at my hair and I was interrupted with another, "But you are.  Beautiful."  Heart officially warmed right up. 

Heart Warmie Number Three.  

White shimmering lights.  When you sit in the lamp lit darkness with white shimmering Christmas lights doing their thing, magic happens.  I just know it.  A fire, a quilt, and a book complete the scene and give me the green light to slow my roll.

Heart Warmie Number Four.

Having someone in my life who understands my need to text these types of messages at random times is priceless.        

"Celery and cranberries are NOT on sale anymore.  But those silly almond bark covered pretzels are.  I have never understood those things.  A pretzel is weird enough without a special covering added."  

"This time I wanted to tell you that it's impossible to put both of your shoes on at the same time.  I've been thinking about it and you can't do it.  Unless you had some serious jumping skills."  

"Here's a tip for you...don't buy generic popping corn.  Orville really is better.  Way less dead heads.  You can buy generic graham crackers.  I mean they totally work the same no matter what.  But popping corn?  Hell no.  You need to go big." 

He even replies when I send this ridiculousness.  Not ignores.  But replies.  And that makes me smile.   

Heart Warmie Number Five.

I crashed Momma Debi's book club.  Because I wanted to sit next to my mom and talk about books with her and her friends.  And it was just as magnificent as I thought it'd be.  There was white wine and red wine and laughing until tears appeared and talk of the book and chatter about life...all while I was sitting by my mom.  Life is good during those moments.  Real good.

Swooping in.  Things to warm my heart have been rallying and swooping in.  And every single time one makes their appearance, I am ever so gently reminded once again...yes indeed, I am one of the lucky ones.  I sure am.