Preggy Peggy

I have to make one correction to my previous post.

Michael informed me that Brainerd's water tower is not in the shape of the hilt of Paul Bunyan's knife, it is the hilt of Paul Bunyan's knife. 

I made the mistake of stupidly questioning how that could be possible.

"He is a giant lumberjack...what is not possible?" 

Thankfully that confusion is cleared up!

Today, Henderson and I were trying desperately to do anything but unpack and do laundry.  So we decided it was high time to go through my old purses and organize them in some sort of fashion.  Other than a teetering pile on the top shelf of my closet. 

I found a credit card receipt crumpled in the bottom of one of my bags.



This is from a bar a friend and I went to on the night of my bachelorette party.  You'll note the time is 12:10 am.  That marks the last time I was up at 12:10 am.  Doing something other than milking myself or feeding a screaming midget.  I just couldn't get over how much has happened since that carefree night of beer (and wine and liqueur) drinking. 

I'll give you one guess who the drunk one is. 

What fun. 

All you Preggy Peggys out there.  Keep these mementos.  I've been there, so I can bear witness:

You are about to trade in your heels for house slippers.  Your perfume for nipple cream.  Your regular showers with layers of more deoderant. Your curling iron for pony tail holders.  Your manicured hands for baby poop under your fingernails (don't ask, but it will happen. At least once.).  You're about to trade nights out for nights in and the boom-chicka-wow-wow for sleep (at least once...).

You won't regret it. 

At least not daily.