I’m glad you are here to celebrate!
Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link.
Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.
Andy and the oldest three kids went to the Friday night high school football game. Sam and I stayed home because he’s not feeling well. It might have more to do with his bearded dragon who died last night rather than actually being sick.
Sam said, “I could play video games, but I’d rather sit on the couch together while you write and I read. Do you mind, Mom?”
(I didn’t mind.)
I’ve been reading Textbook Amy Krouse Rosenthal: not exactly a memoir since June. I haven’t finished it. I don’t want it to be over. I keep rereading some parts. I jump to new chapters every now and then. I haven’t read it all. I didn’t realize I was doing this, and now that I do, it seems too sad to finish the book.
(I think Amy might have understood this better than I do.)
There are some bits called:
I think I should write one of my own.
1. If you feel something, you feel it in
your heart and in your brain. You feel it
too big. This makes your eyes fill up and
your head hurt when your family goes to
the football game, but you’re still thinking
about your pet lizard who died the night
before. You miss your lizard even if she
2. People often save things just for you
that should be recycled because they know
you will appreciate the unique hinge of the
box lid or the extra length of bubble wrap or
the odd size of a cardboard tube. You make
things like giant robots and ATM machines.
You add motors to ships and conveyor belts
and airplanes. You create animals and race
cars; machines and solutions. You might take
over the dining room and tell everyone who
comes in the front door, “Welcome to my
inventor’s studio. This is where the magic
happens.” Then you ask them to push a button
on your Lego creation, which triggers a lever
to set in motion a pulley that turns on a motor
and cranks gears to create confetti.
3. You can never have too much confetti (unless
you’re a dad…sometimes dads get tired of
picking up little bits of confetti).
4. What if, instead of being enchanted by
eccentricities and oddities, you conformed to be
like everyone else. Maybe you would, say, only
wear clothes that match. I imagine you wouldn’t
ever wear plaid and stripes together again. Your
gym shoes would be white or grey, rather than fire
engine red high tops that accentuate your knobby
knees. Also, you would wear jeans, even if you think
they are uncomfortable. And you would wear them
with the button and zipper in front, even though the
back pockets are more roomy and handy to have
5. You sometimes get the sense that the important
things to you aren’t the things other people think are
important. For example, it might be important to finish
sorting all of the pieces from the Lego bin so you can
make a candy machine for smarties instead of setting
the dinner table. Even when dinner is on the plates and
the plates on the table and your family is sitting at the
table waiting for napkins and silverware and prayer, and
you are looking for the remaining perfect piece to
complete your candy machine, you still don’t understand
why they think forks are more important than the yellow
Lego piece with the hole in the side.
6. You might smirk at the sky because a cloud shape
reminds you of a silly fish you saw at the pet store last
weekend. You chuckle at things the rest of the world is
too busy to notice, and you never miss the oppor”pun”ity
to be punny.
7. Theodor Seuss Geisel was proud of his quirk. Let’s not
forget his words — “Today you are you, that is truer than
true.There is no one alive who is you-er than you.”
8. I like quirky.
I hope you have as much fun finding the celebrations as I did writing this “defining word.” Share your celebrations below!