So I send my daughter across the street to get the mail. She loves it.
She looks both ways at least 3 times (we live on a cul-de-sac, just imagine all the traffic) and then runs as quickly as she can to our neighborhood mailbox.
She doesn't even need a key because our lock has been broken since we moved into this house and we haven't bothered to get a new key or lock made. Nevermind the fact that the previous homeowners broke the lock on purpose because their kids kept losing the key (ever heard of getting the mail yourself, buddy?). Oh wait, I'm not one to talk . . .
Anyway, yesterday Katie proclaimed in her loud, wide-mouthed frog voice that we "GOT REAL MAIL TODAY MOM!"
Interested in what she meant by "real mail" I darted to the end of the driveway to greet her.
And yes, there in her arms (along with a pound of recycling) was a package - bubble wrap and everything!
And even better, it's signed by Jen Lancaster herself! I know, how ridiculous is that? Thanks Mamikaze!
I have only newly found Jennsylvania and become aware of all that is Jen. I feel like I've been living under a rock, as this is her 3rd memoir. She is incredibly funny, real, original and did I mention funny?
I brought the book to baseball practice and read parts of it to another mom.
I'm going to bed with the book as soon as I post this.
It's like the movie Misery - wait, that sounds bad. I don't want to kidnap Jen Lancaster and torture her. Although, I'd love it if she'd share her macaroni and cheese recipe with me. And I could totally help her and Fletch put good use to all those wine glasses they have. And I'd be more than happy to watch her cats and dogs while she's in Vegas . . .
Have I said too much?