Howdy there! It’s been awhile since I shared a Weekend Roundup. Okay, it hasn’t been thaaaat long, only a week or so. I’m feeling a bit rusty all the same. And late in the game since it’s already Sunday! But it’s all good. I can be a latecomer this time around. It’s my blog and I’ll share if I want to (to the tune of Lesley Gore’s hit of the 60s). Come to think of it, it’s a three-day weekend. I’m really not late at all. So there.
It occurred to me this morning, as I frantically shoveled KIND Cinnamon Oat Clusters and dairy-free vanilla yogurt down my hatch so as not to be too late for church, that Greg will be home tomorrow. Early morning Nicole knew that Labor Day was coming but failed to connect the rest of the dots. Then again, we go to first service and it was early.
I’ve got to make this one a quick share. I haven’t walked Chloe yet. And it’s getting late. She’s doing so much better, but she’s not there yet. She’s still not a fan of headlights. It takes time, baby, it takes time. I’m not as quick to get my derrière in gear and walk tonight. You see, I spied Chloe’s arch enemy, the silver Siamese, during our last few strolls around the neighborhood. I don’t want a repeat performance of dog meets cat. Not that the cat cares.
Come to think of it, I don’t even know if the cat is Siamese. I know nothing about them. All I know is that s/he is a beautiful silver-gray, the kind of gray I was going for when we repainted the interior of the house.
On to more important matters. About Houston. Leigh Sain wrote a powerful essay, When Prayers Seem Small and the Water Keeps Rising. It’s a must-read and I appreciated the links to help at the end. I want to throw it out there that Convoy of Hope is also a great relief organization.
This one by Elli Johnson of The Hippo Chronicles made me smile. And how I needed to smile after writing about such a heavy topic less than 24-hours ago. You can read it here if you’d like. I always feel weird linking to myself. Anyway, I think you’ll appreciate Elli’s essay. We could all use a to-don’t list of sorts.
The title of Robin Chapman’s essay grabbed my attention. You and I may come from different places, but I think everyone would benefit from reading it. Greatly. By the way, it’s called Owning My Racism. Food for thought and then some.
Toodles,
N.
