shirt: Old Navy belt: thrifted shorts: really old shoes: thrifted bag: thrifted watch: thrifted bracelet: f21
I have committed the ultimate wife's crime. Like the crime that takes you from hottie to hag in a mere .2 seconds. So Friday I got home from work at five, and remembered that I was feeling particularly charitable last sunday and had volunteered to deliver a dinner to a new mommy in my church....at 5:30. So I rush into the door and instead of giving Indie her usual five minutes of mama's home cuddle time I whizz past her and explain, "NO TIME INDIE!! THERE'S FOOD TO BE MADE!" but then of course she looked at me with those almond eyes and my knees trembled and quaked and she ended up with five minutes of pet the Indian time and a big fat bone to chew on...and what was I talking about? Yes, the food! It had to be made! So I took a gander in the fridge and looked back and forth between spaghetti that Matt made two weeks ago,two lemons, and some bananas that had seen better days and thought to myself, "Think domestic Sarah!" and so of course in all of my domestic genius I went and picked up some take out and then threw it in a serving dish because really....who am I kidding. Fifteen minutes later with food in tow and an Indian by my side we walked over to my neighbors house to deliver the goods. When a gusty breeze full of gusto and might blew the foil off of my precious
homemade man made food. And of course Indie caught the lid in her rascal of a mouth and began to lick at it ferociously and I screamed with all my might,
And then I shuddered a mighty shudder. A cry came from the heavens I'm sure, and I was so surprised at what came out of my mouth that I promptly delivered the lid less food and then just sat there on the ladies porch for like ten minutes afterward and pondered how I have become THAT crazy dog lady. Was it when I started letting Indie drink the milk left in my cereal bowl? Or perhaps it was when I started holding Indie like a baby to rid myself of the baby blues, OH SWEET GLORY WHAT HAVE I BECOME!!! And also how do I tell my Sir Matt that I may have in a panic stricken moment of foiled foil mixed up his name with that of a dog's? Like how does one just go and break that kind of news?!