things they shout, and so on

Last weekend at a crowded restaurant, a group of tough-looking bikers walked in.

Annnnnnd of course, our three-year-old jumped up on her chair, pointed excitedly, and shouted "PIRATES!"

Whenever the doorbell rings, our one-year-old shouts "FRIENDS!" and scurries to the door with a truly startling amount of enthusiasm.  There is nothing sweeter.

I turned 29 a few weeks ago and it was awesome, primarily because it involved a date and a nap and three days straight of my kid shouting "MOM!  IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY!" right in my face, our noses touching.  It was fantastic.  Also, everything I hold most dear happened to me in my twenties, so based on that empirical evidence, I have a sneaky feeling this last year of twentydom will be rrrrrrreal, rrrrreal good (roll those r's like arrrrriba).

Recently, our three-year-old beheld the Nauvoo Temple (which she sometimes mixes up with the state capitol, considering both are large and "fancy"), and she was furious that she didn't get to go inside.  I told her if she wants to, she can go when she's twelve.  Annnnnnd that was definitely met with a backwards flail and a desperate shriek of "WHY DO I HAVE TO BE A DIFFERENT NUMBER???"  Why, indeed, child.  Why, indeed.

In other news, I have been working way way way way way too much.  You know how that can throw your life off balance?  Yeah, me too.  I like a fast-paced life but I suspect that the last month or so has been a tad out control. I suspect this because I've done things like, um, sleeping for 14 hours when given the chance (what?  6 PM to 8 AM isn't normal?), and also breaking down in tears in Super Target for no apparent reason.  What I prefer are those days where we just do what we want all day, and I don't get twitchy-eye.  Bring those back!  BRING THOSE BACK!  

Speaking of which, as snickettastic as I realize this sounds, there is a big fat difference between Target and Super Target, and as much as I love our interesting little corner of the Midwest, I sure wish we had a Super Target closer.  Annnnnnd I consider the fact that a within-driving-distance Costco is in the works as proof of divine existence. 

Confession: sometimes hipsters give me hives.

I hate to brag but I am an excellent mimic.  Excellent enough, in fact, that husband and I have taken to playing a game that consists of him asking me a question and me answering it as various people we know. Do we know a lot of the same people?  Then let's play it sometime soon!

Monday was Canadian Thanksgiving and therefore I (as a Canadian) celebrated by making fakeout Cafe Rio in the crockpot, and it was actually pretty good.  (That doesn't make sense, you say?  Fake rio for Canadian Thanksgiving?  Shhhhhhh.  Don't overthink it.  We are open-minded in the true north strong and free.  Just go with it.)  Thanks, Our Best Bites, for making it possible, and also delicious.