Well hey! Sunday morning -- arguably the best part of the weekend, no? I've had this conversation at work a few times in the last month or so, and while we don't agree on if Friday counts as part of the weekend, or which day is the best, there's a pretty solid consensus that it's tough to beat Sunday morning.

And it's Sunday morning after a week that had approximately 23947934706 days in it, and while I've never been a church goin' girl in my adult life, this feels pretty damn holy.

So let's get into the lately of Casa Hodges.

First up, Duke had a few bad nights this week. It's the name of the game 'round here, so we're used to it, but it doesn't make running on 4ish hours of sleep any easier. So, let's go into the week with that knowledge on hand.

On Thursday night, I prepped my Keurig like a organizational boss and had coffee in the little K-cup and water in the reservoir so I could just wake up and hit the ol' go button. Expediency, right? Works, only if you remember to put a cup under it. I pushed the button, walked away and came back to a counter full of coffee. I considered crying because sleep deprivation will do that to you.

George, my hell on roller-skate wheels, visited the neighbors at least three times this week, met the UPS man and scared him to death, chased a deer to Timbuktu, ate a full pan of refried beans right off the stove, got into the trash twice, barfed up a hairball cat-style about three and a half seconds before I had to leave for work, and in general, took advantage of every opportunity to get naughty while the baby is crying. And yet, he's still not on craigslist, not free to a bad home, and not on the market for no rehoming fee. We love that little devil dog.

I figure, in the movie of my life, George is the comedic relief. (A quick edit, as I'm writing this, he just ate a pan of brownies. Although, I'll admit, I was careless. I left it on the counter for four and a half full seconds while I talked with Ryan).

Another fun thing I remembered right before I hit "publish" is on Wednesday night when George saw a cow on the TV. The TV is mounted on the wall a good five feet off the ground, okay. George qualified for olympic hurdles when he launched himself at it, landed on the TV stand, dented the surround sound and knocked just about everything on the ground. There is a snout mark on the screen to prove it, but... he didn't wake the baby, so no real harm done.




Moving right along, after rocking an increasingly raggedly looking mop, I finally got my hair cut. No regrets.



A little Duke update - he has started consistently rolling back to front and front to back this week. He also sits up, plays independently for at least 15 minutes at a time, and is eating solids like a champ.



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So, today we're off to the beach and to eat some food truck BBQ. I'm personally going to drink too much coffee and try to compete with Wait Wait Don't Tell Me in my kitchen.

Happy Sunday, you guys. May it last forever.