Friday Must Wear Moccasins

We're in a bit of a lease limbo for another month or so. While there are a handful of things I've grown to  love about our loft, there are plenty pushing me out.  I coerced my roommate into helping me rearrange to cure the itch for change. It was as if we snapped our fingers (for 4 hours) and from thin air arrived an "office", a triple dose of natural lighting, and much anticipated map mountage (yeah, mountage). We're still tweaking a few things, but for now it's a breath of freshie fresh.

The sweet family that employs me has been leaning on the personal assistant element of my job title this week, keeping my gears turning. Even though the small one and I sing the days of the week to an Adams Family rhythm every morning at breakfast, I'm still amazed how sneaky Friday is presenting itself. Friday must wear moccasins. I flippantly said in conversation with Phil last night how busy work has been. He went on, only to revisit the statement with, "oh yeah, busy at work, 'lotta meetings and stuff?" Too funny, that guy. All kidding aside, planning children's birthday parties is onehelluva lot of work! Invites and Evites (both!) and supplies and jazzy celebration stamps, the list goes on. I really do love that they trust my taste and capabilities; that the margins of my job description are so blurry.  Now that we checked all that off the list, W can turn 5... and we get to start making valentines for his class party. With which he wants nothing to do. No problem for lady control freak over here, but the little turd will at least be scribbling his name.