I have a strange capacity for remembering details. It's a gift. It also causes insomnia. But, anyway, shout out to my elementary school best friend, who probably doesn't even remember that I exist. It's her birthday and I just seem to know that. Chrysti -- I hope you have a lot of cake and maybe even a piñata, because that really makes for a good birthday.

***

Anyway. Ryan's been out of town for the last two weeks and damn, I miss that man. I've been entertaining myself, which is just a more interesting way of saying Don Draper + Pinterest + Peanut butter for dinner.

I used to think that I was a little bit hilarious and could totally be on a show like The Simple Life circa 2002 but then I grew up to eat scoops of peanut butter out of the jar and call it a meal, and now I know that nothing I believed about my adult self came true.

In other made up news, I'm in the middle of The Poisonwood Bible. I haven't read it since high school, and it's a little different this time around. When did I get to a point in which I identify more with the adult characters than the juvenile ones? I was 100% team Rachel my senior year, now the character kind of annoys me. Girl, get a clue. You're in the mf-ing Congo. It's not going to be awesome.



My Oma is here for the weekend. She read this and flat out told me that I need to get over it or die. Puts things in perspective, I guess.

I'm on a nail art kick. I kind of fancy myself an artist these days. And if you're not into it, you probably shouldn't follow my Instagram. Also, I'm getting a little self-righteous about Jamberry, because you know, I'm a real artist. And I want recognition before I'm dead.



And hey! I'm cherishing the last week of 26. Finally grateful for it, which is just perfect now that 27 is right around the corner. I guess I never realized how nice it sounds until now.



A couple of weeks ago, Ryan and I rented a tandem bike. Literally the only thing that requires more cooperation and collaboration will be parenting. And it will probably go the same way. He'll stop pedaling, then I'll stop to get back at him. Then we'll tip the eff over. Then we'll kick it up about seventeen notches while Ryan hums the Wicked Witch song. I'll laugh until I start crying and somehow, we'll make it full circle without dying.



Finally, I really hope that I'm good at conveying sarcasm in my written voice. Otherwise I read like the biggest narcissist ever. Which is really only about 50% true.

****

It's been a long time since I've done a "lately" post. And even longer since I've been so consistently motivated to write. It must be all the Pinterest and peanut butter encouraging me to get a mother freaking life.

Happy FRIDAY!