Can we talk about Downton Abbey really fast before we discuss anything else? I love Downton Abbey and I’ll be so sad when the final episode airs and it’s out of my life forever, even the dumb parts that involve Anna and Bates being constantly under suspicion of murdering someone. But why on earth was it such a relief to everyone on Sunday’s episode that they can still call Mrs. Carson by Miss Hughes? Is it that difficult? And why did Miss Hughes get no say in the matter? Also, Daisy is on my nerves.
Thank you for listening.
In other news our weekend was one of those weekends that didn’t really feel like a weekend. Caroline had to be at the school for soccer at 8:15 on Saturday morning and so we just went out to dinner with Mimi and Bops on Friday night and then were all in bed pretty early. I’d like to think we would have done something a lot more exciting than that if we didn’t have to be up early on Saturday morning but the truth is I think cedar allergies are trying to kill us all dead and we would have taken our sniffly, sneezing, stuffy headed selves to bed early anyway. Even Piper and Mabel were ready to call it a day earlier than usual and curled up together in the same bed because it was cold enough to be a two dog night.
They look so sweet and innocent and not at all like two dogs that may have used my new outdoor throw pillows as chew toys.
On a totally different note I have to confess that I spent most of Friday being completely and totally jealous of my friends in Nashville who were covered up in snow. It all looked so Narnia-ish and cozy and can’t it just snow in San Antonio someday?
On Saturday morning, we bundled Caroline up and dropped her off at the soccer fields early and then came home to bundle ourselves up because it was 34 degrees outside and that’s a little chilly for us. I put on enough layers that I felt like Ralphie in A Christmas Story and then I slowly shed them over the day since we had concession stand duty for the afternoon. If you haven’t ever supervised about eight middle school girls running a concession stand, then you haven’t ever really known what it is to need a nerve pill.
We ran by Gulley’s later that day because it was Jackson’s fourteenth birthday (I know. This is madness. He’s fourteen and over six feet tall. I can’t deal.) and we wanted to bring by his gift. That is a fancy way of saying we brought him a gift card because I can’t even pretend to know what a fourteen year old boy wants for his birthday. And then P cooked out that night and we had a nice little fire in our fire pit and I pretended like I know more constellations than the little dipper (or is that the big dipper?) and pointed them out to Caroline.
Sunday morning we went to church and then Caroline had some friends over to work on a school project. And then it was Monday and the week started all over again because it doesn’t even care that our weekend wasn’t so much a weekend as it was an extension of an already long week.
I guess I’ll just be thankful that I’m not dealing with real problems like trying to remember to that Miss Hughes is now Mrs. Carson.