Daisies, Thongs, and Fender Benders

These adorable little babies are some of our practice flowers. A bit beat up, but they make my day. The morning flower session was mostly a success, but I was not meant to be driving that early on that little sleep with that limited of a caffeine supplement. A couple of curbs were injured in the process, and I turned left on red for no apparent reason. We made it mostly in one piece.

As we left, I noticed that my car smelled funny. Edie and I tried to name the scent. "Rotten Chinese food?" I suggested. She agreed. We hunted around the car. Under the seats. Nothing. As a last ditch effort, I popped the trunk, only to find a couple pounds of 9-day old broccoli. The stems stayed some semblance of green while the flowers were radioactive yellow. The stink is gone.

The rest of the day was spent scanning pictures and skipping between stores. I made two trips to Wal-Mart, two to separate Targets. With flip flops, bug spray, a Tide pen and Melatonin in hand, I ran into a church lady who was full of honeymoon advice. I grabbed McDonald's on the way home as I coordinated Mother's Day with my dad on the phone. McDonald's is my low point.

Sunday morning I was bombarded with hugs and personal sermon illustrations. "This is the last time I can hug you as a single girl!" Fran said. I heard my nickname and last name paired repeatedly by many because it would be the last time they could say them and have them be accurate.

At The Home, Mosotos threw up what appeared to be a lace thong. Not just any thong-- my wedding day underwear. Fantastic. I'm in the market for a new pair.

Later, groggy and irritable and wearing my hot pink i {heart} mom shirt, I waited at the light at President and Lombard. The woman in front of me abruptly threw her car into reverse. I watched her coming toward me. I swore and laid on my horn. It didn't stop her. Teary-eyed she jumped out of her car, handed me her business card and allowed me to compare it to her license. She was nice. Damage was minimal. But who would ever believe a reverse rear-ending?

After dinner for Mom, I sat on the couch squished between Mom, Little Sister and the obnoxious beagle. We looked through two decades of pictures. My younger hands with the old engagement ring. A glimpse into a different life. Mom with two kids at my age. It felt warm, vaguely sad, mostly triumphant.