The artists are below.
And the artwork... giraffe & elephant. You can likely guess who is the artist of each. :)
And the artwork... giraffe & elephant. You can likely guess who is the artist of each. :)
Our adventure started out with lots of big ole bumps and dips and I-want-to-go-backs. And has evolved into a place to chronicle it all: the sweet, the contemplative, the painful, and the please-say-I'm-not-alone...Welcome. And please say I'm not alone.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Monday, April 9, 2012
The book remembers when...
I love that Trisha Yearwood song: "The Song Remembers When"
So does a book, by the way.
Case in point:
* Elizabeth Gilbert with Eat Pray Love got me through mom's death and pumping for Duncan (how many hours did I sit behind that curtain in the pumping room of the Children's Hospital NICU reading away?)
* Jodi Picoult with ALL of her books got me through Duncan's death
* And Suzanne Collins with her Hunger Games series got me through Dad's death
I am taking the time to write this, because I had the AWESOME opportunity to watch the Hunger Games movie preview showing a few Thursday nights ago. I planned it as a date night, lining up the inlaws to stay overnight, holding the fort down with boys, so Scott and I could go to the 12:05am showing (to illustrate the special nature of this event, please note our regular bedtime is 9:30pm and stuff officially turns to pumpkins after 10pm for sure!). As the event came closer, it became abundantly clear to me that Scott's week and Scott's following work day was not permitting him to be sleep-deprived. So, I encouraged him to bail on me. In fact, I insisted. It just was too much.
One might think that I would bail too.
But no.
I went.
10:00 - 11:40pm was a rough 1.666666 hours. Snacking and messing around on Pinterest prevented me from nodding off. And the bed was calling me LOUDLY. It was tempting. But I pressed on.
I was beginning to feel a bit silly - mother of two preschoolers and visably prego with another - staying up for a book-made-popular-by-teenage-crowd-turned-movie. But then. When I arrived on site. My mood shifted. The theater was crawling with Hunger Games enthusiasts. I was with my people: old, young, purple, green, rich, poor... the energy was palpable.
So I sat my pregnant little patootee down in one of the few single seats remaining (the place was nuts, I tell you!) and enjoyed the show. I laughed. I cried. I jumped out of my seat.
It was great.
Thank you, Suzanne. I will never forget what you did for me!
So does a book, by the way.
Case in point:
* Elizabeth Gilbert with Eat Pray Love got me through mom's death and pumping for Duncan (how many hours did I sit behind that curtain in the pumping room of the Children's Hospital NICU reading away?)
* Jodi Picoult with ALL of her books got me through Duncan's death
* And Suzanne Collins with her Hunger Games series got me through Dad's death
I am taking the time to write this, because I had the AWESOME opportunity to watch the Hunger Games movie preview showing a few Thursday nights ago. I planned it as a date night, lining up the inlaws to stay overnight, holding the fort down with boys, so Scott and I could go to the 12:05am showing (to illustrate the special nature of this event, please note our regular bedtime is 9:30pm and stuff officially turns to pumpkins after 10pm for sure!). As the event came closer, it became abundantly clear to me that Scott's week and Scott's following work day was not permitting him to be sleep-deprived. So, I encouraged him to bail on me. In fact, I insisted. It just was too much.
One might think that I would bail too.
But no.
I went.
10:00 - 11:40pm was a rough 1.666666 hours. Snacking and messing around on Pinterest prevented me from nodding off. And the bed was calling me LOUDLY. It was tempting. But I pressed on.
I was beginning to feel a bit silly - mother of two preschoolers and visably prego with another - staying up for a book-made-popular-by-teenage-crowd-turned-movie. But then. When I arrived on site. My mood shifted. The theater was crawling with Hunger Games enthusiasts. I was with my people: old, young, purple, green, rich, poor... the energy was palpable.
So I sat my pregnant little patootee down in one of the few single seats remaining (the place was nuts, I tell you!) and enjoyed the show. I laughed. I cried. I jumped out of my seat.
It was great.
Thank you, Suzanne. I will never forget what you did for me!
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