My Friday morning began with a sweet "thank you".
My last workday before holidays. Always a sweet and sad day for me, feeling possessive about my minions and not wanting them to be perfectly fine without me.
But so excited for the chance to catch my breath, get caught up on some things, endulge in doing absolutely nothing if I choose, and a hundred shades between.
I had our very first family grad to think of. Arianna's year chose a Morrocan theme for the dinner and dance decor, so I wholeheartedly signed up to be in charge of transforming " a few" cast-off pillows into something of luxurious beauty.
With the fair just behind me and a million or two piles of that left in the garage to clean up "when I have time", I began a small mountain of Morocco in a corner of my already cluttered dining room.
There'd been so many other things to think of as well. Both girls had overnights to prepare for and I admit I felt a little more sentimental letting them go in the wake of our town's very recent loss of a precious daughter, sister, wife, and friend.
We'd recently celebrated some very special family milestones.
My special niece got married, our daughters standing up as her witnesses.
My nephew became a daddy.
My mama grew a little funnier and a little more delightful on her eighty-sixth birthday.
And my papa surprised himself by turning ninety.
We're all a little awed.
I always get a little weird when there's a change in my routine. I feel a little disconcerted, and anxious.
So, with my last work day behind me, and me left imagining what four weeks without finding random infant cookie snatchers on my dining room table, I decided to go out and celebrate my imminent holidays in the only sensible my way.
Yard saling for awesome toys.
For when the kids come back.
And maybe just a teensey stack of vintage goodness for me to play with whenever I choose to.
Because I'm on holidays and I can do what I want to.
I'd have to be crazy to feel anxious with all that on my goodness in my life and on my clothesline.
I am crazy.