This weekend we had another BBQ and Marshmallow roast with friends. In attendance were six adults and seven children under the age of six.
You may see that as chaos, but I had a blast.
One of the gals who came is my doctor/workout partner/friend. Her little boy, who is the same age as Ruthie, apparently named our home the House of Barbeque after this spectacular event.
Hey, it works for me.
God bless my doctor/workout partner/friend, though, because she reminded me how blessed my life is, with a husband who provides for me to stay home, who builds me fires and grills me a steak, who writes poetry, and who makes me laugh.
Lately I’ve been complaining about stupid things like my laptop because it’s too heavy, and I want a new one, and blah blah blah. But after spending the evening with her, and being reminded about the important things, I realized I was being a prima donna biatch about the laptop.
I love perspective, even when it kicks me in the ass.
So I heretofore declare this residence officially as The House of Barbeque, and herein we shall love God, love one another, and have ass loads of fun.
Anyone care to join us?