It’s Friday. It’s a dreary, rainy day here in Pennsylvania, but we’re finally all inside the house for the rest of the day, and the raincoats are drying off as we speak. David’s up in our room working (because, you know. The house, it is so tiny). Cian’s napping, the girls are playing, and even though I’m sorting through paperwork and bills, I’ve the most adorable cappuccino-filled cup beside my computer, so all is right in my world. I want to write something profound, but I don’t really feel like it, mainly because the caffeine hasn’t kicked in yet and it’s just so rainy out and cozy in. So I’ll give you these instead:
- I met a very nice new acquaintance the other day. She innocently asked me what my husband does for a living. The question makes me uncomfortable (I feel like it’s asking me what size shoe I wear, or if I put on deodorant this morning–I’ll answer, of course, but do we need to know that much about each other right away? Can’t I just stay quiet and let you wonder if he’s a secret agent, or a rocket scientist, or we’re spies joined by marriage only to aid the good of our country?), but I answered. She then asked me if I work. I was really thinking, “Well, I’m trying to get a book published, and I vacuumed the house this morning, and made an apple pie for the kids and had to scrub the kitchen floor in the middle of making the pie because this happened and…” but I answered no. No, I said. I stay at home. And I mentally kicked myself afterward, which made reading this blog post that much more timely. You may have seen it floating around the internet, but if you’re the primary caregiver of your kids, what this very awesome dude says about his wife’s job–yes, job–is a breath of (validating) air.
- I heard this song in the car earlier, and it just popped into my head again. I know, I know, I’m sorry too (though it finally pushed “Wrecking Ball” out of the way, so maybe all in all not such a bad thing). I’d never seen the video before, and all I can think now is that those poor girls who dreamed of growing up to
be exploited dance in a sexy hip-hop video didn’t exactly have this one in mind. Unless every girl wants to dance below a disco ball in a semi-trailer. I know I’m sad I missed my chance.
- The girls and I made pumpkin ravioli the other day–small children wielding won ton wrappers isn’t really as tricky as it sounds–and it was ridiculously good. Since I didn’t take pictures of it (because, shockingly, I normally don’t take pictures of my food. I know. It’s like I forget it’s 2013 and that’s what Instagram is for), here’s the link to the recipe.
- A slideshow of the creepiest Halloween costumes ever. I’m pretty sure #12 just gave me the nightmare I’m going to have tonight.
- It’s hard to know who to love more: Malala or Jon Stewart. Well, not that hard.
Have a good weekend, everybody. We’ve got an Oktoberfest (carnival rides for the kids! Craft beers for the grown-ups! EVERYBODY WINS!) and a pumpkin patch (and some bathroom cleaning and garden ripping and Target shopping, but shhhh. Don’t think about that) on tap [on tap, I say! Because of the beer! Woohoo!])–you can tell Notre Dame’s got a bye this week–so let’s hope this rain just sticks around long enough for me to wash out the mugs of mulled cider, then clears out so we can all have a good weekend, okay? Don’t you love fall? Don’t you, though? And not just because of Oktoberfest. Though it does help.
See you next week.