I'm feeling... homesick.
Which is weird, because I'm typing this from the comfort of my home, where my two sons are Crash Bandicooting all over my kitchen with our Ikea kitchen cart.The American dream and all that.
I just can't help but feel like something is missing. Perhaps it's the pictures of the smiling faces in all of the brand new clothes heading back to school. Or perhaps it's the Facebook conversations I had with old classmates that made me feel this way, but I really miss my hometown. I know, that home is where the heart is, and you're supposed to grow where you are planted, and so on and so forth, but I can't help it. Part of my heart will always be up north, and I don't know if it's me missing the actual place, the simplicity of the past, or just the feeling of being surrounded by endless friends and family.
Damn you fall, and your persistent yanks on my heartstrings.
But then I look down at these little stinks, ruining my brand new cowhide with art stuff and spending quality time together and I just know that this is where I'm meant to be.
It's all very Sweet Home Alabama, really, minus the Patrick Dempsey, the other really cute guy, and Murphy Brown, but you get the picture.
In other news, I got back on the ole' natural deodorant kick ,a.k.a the smelling like a homeless drunk bandwagon, and tried a new scent from Tom's of Maine. In my totally un-sponsored opinion, it started out hopeful with visions of Bonnaroo dancing in my head and actually worked (gasp) for like a day, but then I got out of bed and actually moved, which kinda ruined the whole experiment. As it turns out, this deodorant taps out before I make it to the kitchen, and let's be real, I'm not living in any type of palatial estate. So back to the drawing board and cancer causing carcinogens for me it is, but I'm sure I'll be duped again sometime soon, so stay tuned.
I'm also on the hunt for a really great Miu Miu, you know, to channel the days when I just feel like Mrs. Roper and I want to go out in public with my Genie bra and Upatot panties (you know, the ones that cover your uterus, fupa and rest right under your teet tots). I feel like this is the answer to all of my boob falling out problems, so I intend to find the perfect floral print masterpiece that the thrift shop can carry. Oh but here's the best part, I'm challanging myself into doing it under $2 for the whole situation, so the challenge is on ladies. Uh oh...I think I feel a Macklemore parody coming on.
And I just can't get enough of this.
Enough with the hot yoga specials Living Social...banjo lessons is where I want to be.
Father Mumford told me so.