The problem is, this was my first time at this specific oil change place, and as I was unfamiliar with the customs and mores of this strange land, I drove up the wrong way to the garage. As I was trying to turn the vehicle around in a somewhat tight spot (ah, so that's why this way is exit only!) there was a somewhat befuddled mechanic looking out the windows at me.
Me, as I executed a nine-point turn:
After finishing there, we still had a good 45 minutes to kill before the library opened, and as I have a Target gift card, our destination was clear. I don't go to Target often, as I like for our bank account to remain at reasonable levels, and Target is a den of spending sin. Everything is just too tempting and too cute, so I just don't go. Well, except for Friday, of course.
You should know that I love stripes, and I love black and white together, and this pitcher just kind of jumped into my hands. Besides, it was $3 and now I have the perfect container for my pink peonies come June. Until then, it's holding all my wooden spoons for me.
After Target and the library, Caedmon and I headed across town to the Blood Shop, as it is lovingly called by our youngest. We brought plenty of books for him to look at while I was donating, but every time we go there the nurses are all, "Would he like to watch cartoons? Let's change the channel and get this boy some cartoons!" I was also reminded no less than three times to be sure and get a snack for Caedmon, too, when I was finished. "Make sure your son gets a snack when you do!" "Don't forget to get your boy a snack!" "Don't leave without getting your son some cookies and juice!" Honestly, he doesn't look malnourished, so I guess Blood Shop Nurses are just extra nice to small boys.
|He is pretty cute.|
Saturday it was a good thirty degrees below freezing so I couldn't go for a run, and my hand still hurts like the dickens so I felt like I couldn't do much of anything else, plus my coffee maker gave up the ghost, and the children were exhibiting their cabin fever by pretending to be human pinballs, our house being the pinball machine. So I did the only sensible thing, and made all three of them do a Jenna Wolfe pyramid workout with me. They were a lot less pinballey after that.
Sunday morning I woke up and thought, Maybe today I'll get to go for a run! My weather app informed me otherwise.
We did find one door to the van that wasn't frozen shut, so we made it to Wal-Mart to get a new coffee maker and to church. Then we returned home to watch a game that I won't mention, except to show you a photo of Atticus decked out in his Vikings gear.
Due to the outcome of the game-that-shall-not-be-mentioned, our house is in full-blown mourning. I'm trying to figure out how to help Derek process his grief: So far I'm thinking black cloth over the mirrors and stopping the pendulum in our clock, although this requires removing the batteries which feels a lot less, I don't know, mournful.
The above isn't really an accurate representation of Derek right now, because the man doesn't cry (like, ever), but I'm sure it's how he feels on the inside. Actually, it's probably more like this: