No beer for me last night. I stayed vigilant the whole night and slept in the bedroom with little big man's crib. He has no burns. Hey, please send good thoughts my way. I need a good day here soon. Thanks. Love you.
I'm sending love and luck your way. I can't drink a beer, so I'll toast you with milk, "Here's to a Momma who knows how to keep her head in an emergency. How do I know? It's not every wedding you go to where the bride is level-headed enough to pitch a large floral fireball out an open door. So, here's to you, your calmness, and your ability to cook (every good cook has baking soda on hand in case of an emergency)." Don't worry. Moving is always an upheaval, it'll come together in no time.
That image of the flaming floral centerpiece getting chucked out the door of the community center is forever burned into my brain. And the look on Josh's face as he calmly opened the door for you, too. They should have that at every wedding. Good thoughts.
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