It's a gorgeous spring day in our neck of the woods. In fact it's the sort of day I wish I were in a choir.
You heard right.
It's the sort of heavenly-chorus-of-voices day that features a perfect combination of 58 degrees, impossibly Jello-esque blue skies dotted with marshmallow puff clouds. It kinda makes you hungry for a church potluck. Kinda sorta.
Now that was unfair.
Our church potlucks are unbelievable. They give church potlucks a good name. My kids ask EVERY Sunday if we can stay for a potluck. Maybe the ladies of our church should open a Sunday-only restaurant. Even if Jello isn't one of your major food groups... I'm just sayin'.
The best thing about most church potlucks is that you don't have to cook. Well, you have to cook a large quantity of one item. And you have to plan ahead-- already we are seeing why it might be a problem for me.
This week it has proven impossible to plan anything. Or possibly I should say that it has proven fruitless to plan. Pointless. I love lists as much as the next girl. To-do lists. Honey-do lists. Long-range goal lists. In fact I like lists so well that when I am pregnant I don't nest, I list. (That's my husband's joke, not mine. Ba-dum-dum.)
So this week I have (had) a lot of plans. Doctor appointments, accountant and attorney appointments, work, writing (oh, the certifiably important but the least urgent and therefore the first to go), parenting (this list is in no particular order, obviously).
All those plans? To the place handbaskets are rumored to travel with regularity. One-way ticket.
But it's a beautiful day! I think I'll plant a few more peas as soon as I can check a few more things off my list.