Brilliant thoughts come to me at 2:00 a.m. There's a lot to be said for this time of day, or night, or whatever. In college, my best papers were written during this golden hour. (Or in the hour before class, as I feverishly typed, printed & stapled papers in the library, cursing the nursing major who printed her PowerPoint notes right before my print job.)
Tonight, I watched Sleepless in Seattle on Netflix, and chased it with An Affair to Remember, completely forgetting that SIS was inspired by AATR, so I'm feeling extra enlightened. All day tomorrow (or today, rather), I'm going to pretend to be Deborah Kerr & Meg Ryan, and I don't care who knows it. Meet you at the top of the Empire State Building, Kyle!
I'm going to hate myself for nights like these when I have a little babe stealing my sleep (not pregnant), but for now I'm thankful for this spark of inspiration. (Shout-out to my gigantic afternoon nap and the three mugs of Gevalia coffee I drank at 7:00 p.m.)
I went on a trip with my family recently, sans husbands. It was a real classic, throwback vacation. Except this time I felt guilty when my parents paid for my Chick-fil-a. (I mean, I pay my own electric bill, I can come up with cash for my chicken nuggs & waffle fries.)
For five whole days, I had my sister's undivided attention, and it was magic. (That statement reeks of Youngest Child Syndrome, I'm aware, y'all.) Both of our hubs work in the financial (see also: boring) world, so tax season = no vacation time for them, partay time for us. HOLLER. She brought me clothes & makeup, because that's her love language and she knows I need some direction. And we debated Birkenstocks and breastfeeding and all the normal sister things while wading in the Gulf of Mexico. Like I said, P-A-R-T-A-Y.
Anyway, before I become a puddle of caffeine, here are some pictures from our time in the sunshine state:
We waited a ridiculous amount of time to eat dinner on the beach at sunset. And by the time we cleared our plates and ate all the bread and extra bread, I was still hungry and scarfed down a protein bar before bed. Super concerned about my beach body, guys.
Love their love.
Magic. You can't tell it by the picture, but I'm 5-years-old here.
When you're almost 25, there are two places it's okay to take a jumping picture. One of them is Disney World.
Just a seagull with a . . .
. . . SEAHORSE! Life's a beach, amiright?
Momma is the best beach-walking company, as far as I'm concerned.
Acceptable location #2 for a jumping picture: the beach.
Who am I kidding. Jumping pictures are always okay in my book.
Except at funerals. That's where I draw the line.
We visited my great aunt & uncle in Fort Myers, and took their pontoon to lunch.
Applied sunscreen twice and still got splotchy burn marks on my thighs.
I'm sure you were wondering.
Sailing lessons: bucket list item #727.
Sunrise on Anna Maria Island while we ate french toast and stuff at Gulf Drive.
Remember the time I found a real, live triplofusus giganteus and no one believed me, so I had to drag it to shore with two sticks because I was too scared to touch it at first?
I'm a regular Steve Irwin (may he rest in peace).
I sent my friend back into the gulf, don't worry.
I threw discus in middle school track, as I'm sure you can tell in this picture.
But mostly I just got a t-shirt. Talent, I tell ya.
^^^ Where my heart lives during the cold Indiana winters.
I'll leave you with a little Hemingway, because that's probably the best way you can leave a person.
I've been home for six days now, and my suitcase is still packed at the end of our bed.
You might say I'm prepared to hop on a plane and return ASAP.
You might say I'm lazy.
Either way, you'd be right.