Yesterday was a big day in our house: my husband came back from his 10-day trip to Germany. A trip which earned him the temporary nickname “Strudel Boy” from my sister, who is always oh-so-helpful for things like finding a nickname for someone who needs one.
Anyway, I was busy yesterday getting stuff to make sure it felt all homey up in here, so Strudel Boy would be happy to be home. I bought a cake mix, but I didn’t make a cake. Sorry, Strudel Boy. But I did get a new Halloween table cloth, some of these and these, and pudding. Because nothing says “home” like pudding.
Also these. Because suck it, Tony.
We have so many “travel widows” in our neighborhood that I’m suggested started a club, but we’re all too busy to do it unless our husbands are home, at which time we want to actually see our husbands (amazing, but true.) So what’s a travel widow to do?
Anyhoo, I wasn’t happy with the loss of this particular 4-day weekend, between my oldest going to Washington DC with O’Neill and Strudel Boy strudeling around in Germany. We’re going to miss apple picking this year, and with a party this Saturday and a Jr. High church group thing on Sunday, fitting Fright Fest in is going to be tough, too. Friday night better be nice enough to go, or I will have a snit. A real, genuine, terrifying in its vehemence snit.
When are we going to get pumpkins? What if they’re all gone? And what about Sonny Acres? I can’t miss … that is, the KIDS can’t miss… that, can I (we)?
Must. Shove. All the Fall. In. Quickly.