No seriously about the sugar part. You know me; I’ve been a CrossFit-doing, Paleo-preaching fiend over the past couple of years, but I took a nosedive several weeks ago and now am afraid I’m addicted to sugar.
I crave Snickers.
I crave Honey Nut Cheerios.
I crave chai.
I crave chocolate.
Hello, my name is Mary, and I’m a sugar addict.
One day at a time, sweet Jesus. Just one, please.
But on to the freckles part. I love them because, well, in my well-educated mind, freckles happen when angels sneak in and kiss your face. Or perhaps, wherever it is that you might have them, because your particular angel might be a naughty one.
Sweet Aunt Myrtle – that is a FINE example of a busy angel.
Good stinkin’ grief I love freckles.
That’ll make your Mother’s Day a happy one.
Someone got a huge case of the giggles.
And repeat there started dancing a crazy jig.
I swear, we were very loud Americans on Sunday.
How can you keep your laughing on the down low when folks like these are at your table?
Mother’s Day this year was happily punctuated with an impromptu brunch/lunch with our neighbors, and we took the trip to the original Oskar Blues in Lyons. Ironically, I did not get one single photo of the mothers…
But it didn’t make it any less than perfect.
And guess who, after about a year, picked up his very own Reeb single speed that has been mightily pimped out? (Can I say “pimped out” in a “Mother’s Day” post? Is that allowed?)
I actually thought this bike was way cooler, but what do I do know?
I still think freckles come from angels.
And I’m totally right.