How 3 semesters of Italian bought me nothing but a smug attitude

Bruschetta.

Is not pronounced bruSHETTA.

In Italian “ch” is pronounced like “k."

“broo-SKET-ah”

my boy arlo

I never anticipated bonding the most with a rooster. Although he's a terrible little peckerhead who orchestrates lots of mischief I adore him. And even though he'll crow I just can't bring myself to get rid of him. Thank god I'm not in a traditional subdivision.

Mother's Day

Then:



Now:



I think we've aged well.

Mi piacciono i miei capelli (I like my hair.) Finally.

I've been experimenting with my hair these days. After spending far too long not caring about it at all. As in, pull it up and out of my face and be done with it. And far too long wishing I had everyone's hair but my own.

I've straightened it. Bought hot curlers and rolled it. Went to bed with it damp and gone au natural the next morning. And what I've learned is that at 25 years of age I can say with authority that I finally love my hair.





P.S. This curvy girl rocked the skinny jean this week at work. Don't let anyone fool you into thinking skinny jeans are only for size twos. I love mine.

Free Rangin'

Since yesterday was the first nice day we've had in a while and it was relatively warm I decided to bring all seven chickens out on the patio for some play time. They loved it. They were out most of the morning and while I expected them to venture off a bit they didn't seem interested in it. There were too many interesting things close to the house. Like bugs, worms that still lingered from the rain, and some pansies that never got planted. Chickens can eat pansies! And marigolds and various other flowers. I'm being mindful of that next weekend when I buy my mom her Mother's Day flowers.









As much fun as it is having little baby chicks I must say I'm super excited about them getting bigger. I've never had a full grown giant chicken before. I literally squeal every time I notice they seem bigger.







They are still as sweet as can be. If you sit down nearby Arlo immediately hops up in your lap. He's such a happy little roo.

Book #15

I can't really be proud of anything I've read this week. This was bad. Bad dialog. Bad premise. Bad, bad, bad. I liked Susan Elizabeth Phillips' books in high school so when I saw this on the new arrival shelf at the library I thought I'd give it ago.

Other things I liked in high school that are now proven to have been against my better judgment:

• people
• gay boys
• working hard
• listening to Delilah on the radio
• jeans that were too long for my short legs

So what I'm saying is that my 17 year old self can't be trusted.

I ♥ Joe Biden