Back in the Saddle Again

I've had a bad case of cyber laryngitis this week for a variety of reasons. You see,  I'm still dealing with that whirly swirly circlet at random times when Della gets moody.  Plus, I've been stressed out  trying to wrap up my current teaching stint. The combination left me uninspired and pouty. 

That's the way I roll sometimes. I blame the hormones. At 49, you get to blame the hormones for everything.

Or so the husband says...

But this morning, I'm back in the saddle again, and I mean that very literally. Believe it or not,  we're in Macon again. Sitting in a hotel room... again. This week, however, it has nothing to do with cherry blossoms. It has everything to do with daughters, particularly one daughter who is celebrating a birthday.

Care to guess which one?

We may not be the most logical parents around, but what we lack in logic, we make up in love. After a long week on the road, the Man of the House rolled back into town around 6:00 last night only to do the quick change into his Super Dad suit and head back the same way he had come.

With his faithful side kick, Mighty Mom, tagging along.

We made the decision to road trip back to Macon because the daughters are too busy this weekend to come home  and we're pathetic.  We're sneaking in a birthday breakfast before they start their busy day.  This is the weekend of Mercer's annual Dance Marathon to raise money for the hospitals of the Children's Miracle Network.

Both daughters are involved. In fact, one of them is an organizer.  Care to guess which one? It isn't the birthday girl.  She'll be there with bells on, however, because this event is tailor made for her.  The kid was born with  boogie shoes. From the time she was able to walk, she has chosen instead to dance.

Time and place made no difference whatsoever.  The instant she heard the strains of a beat, those tiny hips started moving, followed quickly by the shoulder shimmy and head bob.  Bystanders would point and giggle. Big sister would try her best to hide behind a grocery cart and whisper, "Mommy stop her." 

Of course, I never did. More often than not, we just created a conga line for two.
It's a wonder Big Sister never needed therapy.

By now, you've probably guessed that our birthday girl is none other than Miss Whimsy.  She turns 19 years old today. How that happened, I do not know.

I could swear she was 5 just yesterday. 

Inconceivable.

So Happy Birthday to my Miss Whimsy. I hope the rest of the day is every bit as wonderful as you want it to be. And today, just as always, I hope you dance.