Sunday, October 15, 2017

The Shape of Us

Good Sunday evening. As my forehead & my Facebook timeline have reminded me, as of today I am officially thirty-seven years old. A quick look at the beginning:

Okay, that was fun. What I'd like to do tonight is share a few thoughts about our dining table, & then share a backlog of photos (recent photos) I finally transferred from my phone to my computer. 

The past few weeks have been somewhat tumultuous around our house. The pace of life with young kids (coupled with our advancing age) is catching up with me & Trey. We've been reevaluating ourselves, our schedules, our attitudes, etc. In the course of all this evaluating, Trey asked me what I would think about removing a leaf from our dining room table (seriously, there's no facet of our lives we're not scrutinizing).

Shortly after we moved in our house, I attempted to purchase a lovely off-white rectangular dining table from Paula Deen's collection. Long story short, the company from whom I ordered the rectangular table led me on for weeks before finally admitting they couldn't get their hands on the table. 

The table saga continues. My heart was still set on a table in Paula Deen's off-white, but I decided I could be flexible about the shape. I located a circular table in Bossier from the same line as the rectangular one that proved an impossibility, & since its delivery it has served us well. When the leaf is added, it's an oval that easily seats six.

When the table was delivered I instructed the delivery men to insert the leaf, & it has never been removed. A few days ago Trey asked me what I would think about removing the leaf. He approached me cautiously, aware of my weird issues with furniture/house decor. I think he expected to be immediately shut down, but I patiently listened to the case he laid out for shrinking our dining table. I thought about what he said, & you know, I agree with him. We don't need six chairs; it's not like we're regularly entertaining friends. If we remove the leaf, we'll have more room to move in the dining area, & the table will be smaller, thus we'll have less space to clutter with the junk of life.

You know what an oval is? An oval is a perfect circle that has been stretched thin. We're starting with the extra leaf we don't need on any regular basis, a leaf that serves only as a surface we clutter, but we are not done. Soon, bags of clothes & toys will be taken to Goodwill. We're not going to renounce all our possessions & move into a tiny house, but we are reevaluating & making adjustments. Ovals are all fine & good. I am sure we'll use the leaf & need the extra seats at some point in the future, but as kids grow (& parents age) & life gets busy, you will easily get bent out of shape & you have to tend your circle.

This concludes the lovely table metaphor portion of the post. Since it appears legit fall weather is on its way this week, here's a recap of our fall thus far.

Donuts with Dad, an alliterative, carb-heavy event Henry very much enjoyed: 

This is Reagan on her first field trip of the year. I believe they attended a play at the local theater. 

The kids at Chili's one Saturday afternoon:

Henry doing his nightly "reading:"

Reagan is smiling because of the artwork on her face; I am smiling because this was taken on the precipice of Fall Break:

The kids' school pictures presented without comment:

This past weekend was a pretty exhausting packed weekend. Trey & I left the kids with his parents Friday night to celebrate my birthday / our upcoming eighth anniversary. If you're a local you well know we ate dinner at the Warehouse, concluding the meal with this lovely cheesecake flanked by a syrupy "8." We left the Warehouse & went to Target, because when I am out without the kids, I am probably going to go to Target. 

Saturday was a crazy-making day. After the morning chores were complete, I quickly exercised before heading to get my haircut. I raced home, showered, dressed the kids, & we all made our way to cousin Maisie's birthday party.

Here are Reagan & Henry with a variety of cousins:

While the party was winding down, LSU fell into a deep twenty-point hole against Auburn. By the time Trey & I left the party to go vote, LSU was teasing us with a comeback. 

We left the kids with my parents, voted, & drove home to watch the end of the game while also washing a load of laundry & changing into dressier attire appropriate for Trey's high school reunion. 

We obviously watched the end of the game before leaving the house for the reunion festivities. My smile below is admittedly more about LSU's stunning victory over Auburn & less about reunion-joy.

If you've wondered or are now wondering, no, I did not get new glasses. I had to have a loose lens replaced in my glasses, & so for the past few days I've been using an old pair that I never knew I hated until I had to wear them again after wearing & loving my current pair the past year. The good glasses I don't hate are now fixed & ready to rock & roll with me tomorrow at school. 

We partied with Trey's high school friends until a little after nine. We returned home to tired kids & my tired mom. My mother bathed the kids for me—including washing their hair!—on a Saturday when I really, really needed someone to bathe the kids for me. 

Today was a good day. At lunch Trey surprised me with something I didn't even know I wanted but now love so much. 

I present the most perfect birthday cake for a thirty-seven-year-old book nerd who is overly attached to her favorite books:

I was thirty when I began blogging; maybe we'll unpack my feelings about that next week once I've fully settled into thirty-seven. 

Thank you for the birthday wishes; they've rolled in on Facebook, via text, & I received several in-person greetings at church this morning. I ate a wonderful lunch surrounded by people I love. I'll soon celebrate eight years of marriage to a man who had the cover of a Hemingway book plastered on a cake for me. We haven't cut into it yet. Dessert was included with our lunch, so I was able to stave off the slicing of the lovely A Farewell to Arms cake. Inevitably it will be eaten. The perfect, beautiful cake will be reduced to nothing more than a few stray crumbs, which I think Hemingway would appreciate. 


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