Seven pointless thoughts/stories

1. The only time I regret having children is when a One Direction song comes unbidden into my head.

2. I'm wondering if people will take that last sentence literally.

3. I should probably 'fess up and admit the rest of the mouse infestation story, which is basically that I'm a terrible minimalist. My parents got rid of this awesome throw rug in their bedroom--LL Bean, square, and very pretty--and I scooped it up. And then put it under my bed. I meant to put it in the living room, or in my own bedroom, but I just never got around to doing it. Eric even asked if we should donate it to the church rummage sale (sorry, last time I'll mention it) and I was like, no, I have plans for that. And then the pregnant mouse had her babies in that rug underneath the bed and tore it all to pieces. Let this be a lesson, kids: Mice are bastards. Oh, and don't hang onto things just to hang onto them, I guess.

4. Whew! That's a load off my conscience.

5. I love it when Eric barbecues some random meat product (like Mormon Chicken cut into strips. I can't believe I still have this in the freezer) and all I have to do is breeze in and make a side dish. P.S. In the Pacific Northwest, we say "barbecuing" instead of "grilling," even though there's no sauces involved. I guess that's what barbecue is, I have no idea, I'm just writing the words down as they come.

Mt. Hood. Is a boss.

6. One of our closest neighbors is a lavender farm, and Abby is going in today for a hour's training session. She's scheduled to work at an upcoming festival, which should be interesting because she's terrified of bees, and I don't know how familiar you are with lavender, but anyway, bees love that stuff. (She's going to be a "U Pick Girl," which I think just involves handing people the supplies they need and maybe answering some questions and knowing which mountain is which.*) Anyway, Abby is supposed to wear long shorts or capri pants--she owns neither--and she's borrowing a pair of my capris. The kid is 5'11", so they fit, except she's, ahem, smaller than me in the waist, so she's got a lot of belt action going on. I'm proud of her because instead of wanting to go out and buy the proper apparel, she was just like, hey Mom... I think this totally counts as minimalism, which makes my rug hoarding seem slightly better. It all balances out is what I'm saying. Um, right?

7. I don't actually have a seven, but I made the post title before I actually wrote anything, so there you go. I mean, seven things shouldn't be that hard, right? Well, apparently, it is.

The end.

*Mt. Hood to the south, Mt. Adams to the north. Honestly, that's the only way I know which direction I'm headed.