My mind is too full. . . I must deposit the contents here

I have so many things to share with you, Internet friends. And I haven't had a lick of time, what with Madeline having pneumonia this week. I've been far too busy wringing my hands, timing her breaths, and Googling "when to go to the ER" to open up my computer and write anything. But she seems to be doing better today, so I'll take advantage of this late hour and share with you the contents of my brain.

Madeline has (had?) pneumonia this week. I don't want to give her crap-tastic immune system any more Web-time than that, so I'll move on.

I was pulling grass out of my landscaping beds this evening, writing a post in my head about the profound analogy for life that activity holds. It was about how things creep into our deliberately-designed lives if we're not careful, and how much more difficult it is to purge ourselves of the fruits of our laziness than it is to keep the weeds out of our lives in the first place. So, consider that blog post written.

Since Ryan is out of town this week, Mom generously agreed to come in to spend time with us girls. THANK YOU MOM-- I am pretty sure you are the only reason I'm not insane, Mads is not in the hospital, and Coralie's not on the streets. I hope you all have a mother like mine. She's amazing on her own (smart, interesting, funny, capable), but she's also a great mom. She's very loving and encouraging without being drippy/sticky sweet or fake-mom-like. Do you know what I mean, Internet?

I am throwing a huge party for Ryan's 30th birthday on Sunday. Huge as in 35 people, not 350, by the way. Mom and I have spent hours and hours figuring out how to turn our house into a 1920s speakeasy, and I think we've done it. I can't wait for the party (I am firmly hopeful that Madeline will be well by then, but she's been sick a week already, so. . . hopeful is exactly the word I am looking for. There is no guarantee with her.) I've got a few more things to do tomorrow, and then Mom and I will start the actual staging of the speakeasy tomorrow night. I am planning on having a talented photographer friend of mine take some pictures, so I hope to be able to put those on the blog next week.

Speaking of pictures, I am working on converting my photo storage boxes into picture albums that we will actually look at. The albums are all about the story of Ryan and Katie Bond (et al) and date back to 1997. We looked SO YOUNG. Because, you know, we were. My sister would be humiliated at my total disregard for the aesthetics of the albums, but we all have our strengths, and scrapbooking is not even in my top 250 talents.  (Not that I have 250 talents, but if I had to rank all possible talents in the whole world, this would be 250 removed from me.)

There, that feels better. I think that I might be able to sleep now, knowing I've purged my thoughts. Thank you for lending me your ears. :)

Now, if you'll just take a minute and text, tweet, or email me something interesting that would occupy my mind, I'd much appreciate it.