I was looking back through old photos today, during a brief respite from pretending I’m a nurse, and came across this beauty.
Abbie was putting on her strappy heels, getting ready for her junior prom. We were living in this horrid little rental while building this house, and all the walls were painted blue, which I hated, except for that afternoon/evening. The blue walls with the white tulle of her dress were perfect and I love this picture.
The last 30 hours or so with Abbie have been almost as long as the first 30 hours I had with her. Actually, longer. I remember sleeping during her first 30 hours. And I believe there were women in scrubs doing stuff for me, like bringing water and asking if I needed anything…
I’ve never watched so many chickflicks in such a short period of time in my life! Knotting Hill (Abbie insists she watched it 4 times last night, but the math doesn’t actually add up), Miracle on 34th Street, When Harry met Sally, The Holiday, an attempt at Mama Mia, but it was too high energy for Abbie, and Rick brought home the newly released “The help”. I think there were others, but it’s getting fuzzy.
Once we got Abb’s prescription for pain changed to something stronger and she finally dozed off for a nice little nap, I actually got my Christmas shopping done. I know there’s been an article or two circulating facebook about Amazon being bad for local economy, but the economy in my house is pretty darned local, and Amazon saved the day for me. I already had an idea what I was doing for the most part, so from start to finish it took me about 20 minutes. When I received my confirmation emails I Announced, ‘That was the funnest Christmas shopping I’ve ever experienced!’
This evening before Joey arrived, We tried a NON chickflick, ‘The Shooter’ with Rick. But the three of us were sacked out on the sofa and chairs with our phones playing Words With Friends and ignoring the movie.
At this writing Joey and I are watching Julie and Julia, Abbie is pretending to be awake, and Rick has disappeared to the basement, where I presume he is watching something involving sportscasters and men beating each other up.
Something decidedly NOT chickflick!
I’ve heard that Day Three is always the worst.
Don’t tell Abbie.