Can we call this one the May Round-Up? It makes sense to me because I haven't written much at all this month, and unless there's a surprise burst of motivation coming up, it's pretty unlikely that there will be many words in the next couple of weeks. The weather's too nice and the dogs like walking too much and there's a lot of fun to be had outside and away from the kitchen table.

So let's start with this: I am of the opinion that it should always be the weekend. Fun, interesting things happen on the weekends.

Like sleep. And seeing what the house looks like with 10am sunshine streaming through the windows. And brunch!

And because it's warming up, we are full on in ice cream season. There's this little place down the street where a guy yelled at me for being in the wrong line, but there is no memory so bitter that it deters me from returning to a place that serves Root Beer floats.

And besides, unlike me, Ryan doesn't get surprised by unfriendly confrontation or struck verbally incapable, so he told the guy what's up and we moved on.

Speaking of warming up -- it's alarming how quickly I become a baby about the temperatures. Last month, when we hit 50-degrees, I was all "I better wear my shorts, because it is SO warm!"

Then, two weeks ago, we hit 80, and I'm ruined for the rest of the spring.

This weekend, it's 62 and I'm like "there must be some toros in the atmosphere because brrrrr."
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Hey, remember that time I told you about my nieces' dance recital? And then promised to write about it some other day?
Well then I forgot.

The evening started with me yelling "Hey Puddin' Popsicle!" to a gal who is apparently too old to be called that in public these days.

I know she saw me. I know she heard me. She did not acknowledge me. Haha.





I remember watching these things when the girls were little, and being a little excited when the older gals came out, because they'd been doing it for a little while longer and their shows were less clumsy and more choreographed.

Now the girls are the big girls and I'm wishing they were still the little tumbling, somersaulting babes who come out and bop along to 15-seconds of song.

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If you're reading this and thinking this feels forced, you're right. I knew I had to blog about something, but I'm not really into it anymore. Boo-hoo. It kind of feels like I'm coming to the last few pages of a notebook that I've been writing in for a long time. I'm running out of room, but that's okay because I'm ready to close this one up forever and move onto something different.

You know?


Happy weekending by the way. May Sundays last forever!