It's much harder being an atheist than a recovering Catholic.
I don't know how long I will have and use these plates I bought when the two oldest were little, but every single time I do I try to remember my mom giving me Betty Crocker points in order to "buy" the set years ago. Sure, we totally could have afforded to just buy a set of plates, but where's the fun in that?
Driving with Eldest yesterday on an errand of epic proportions -- Comcast and In-n-Out Burgers -- we had one of our many pleasant chats about life. Out of the blue, he started heaped high praise on me and Pete for everything we have done to ensure he has had a happy childhood. He thanked me for the job paths we've taken to essentially give them more face time with their parents than any kids he knows.
No, we're not buying him a new car.
Those moments happen and for days afterwards, and for the rest of my life, my heart beats loud in my chest and moves to my throat where it gets caught before it is able to reach the tears in my eyes.
I then ruin the moment at any given time by trying to describe it, all saccharine-like. Sorry, moment.
I need to start a FB status face that says, "I promise to not espouse any statements in support or in opposition to any presidential candidate or his party on my FB status until November 8. I furthermore promise to unfriend any of my FBriends who do for the duration of the campaign. Post this if you agree!"
But I need to do that after I trademark "I won't voMitt."
Get it? I won't VOTE MITT. VO-MITT. VO-MIT.