Some things roaming in my head:

Isaiah is turning 2 years old in December. I think it’s time I stop acting like he just got here. Every time I see him, I am FLOORED that another person lives in this house other than me and Nick and Bertha (My dying plant. Slowest death EVER.)

Nick has midterm exams. He knows he can ace them but asked me if I think it’s worth the extra two hours of studying to be absolutely positive he will get straight A’s. My answer: spend the 2 hours of preparing to ensure success. It’ll save you the 4 hours of bitching you’d do everyday for a week if you don’t get an A. Welcome to my Type A marriage.

I’m teaching RCIA this week. I’ve gone to Catholic schools my entire life, from preschool to masters program. I did one year of service through the Jesuit Volunteer Corps, and I married a cute dude who went to seminary for two years. Someone recently asked me to explain Jesus and why he’s hanging on that cross over there on the wall. Unfortunately, I do not have Cliffsnotes for the Paschal Mystery.

While purchasing diapers and exciting toddler propaganda like that at Target, I saw a bumper stick that read KING OF POP: MICHAEL JACKSON 1958 -2009. Note: The bumper sticker was in the shape of a silver glove.

My family is trying to decide Thanksgiving plans which is like trying to figure out how to eradicate poverty. I called my dad to ask if he got his requested vacation for travel and he says, “No. I don’t know why. By the way, make sure you aren’t leaving Isaiah alone at the mall. There are kidnappers at every corner. And cantaloupe. Don’t buy it. People are dying from it. I think that’s all I want to tell you. Yeah, no malls or cantaloupe.” Bonus: my Dad says cantaloupe like CANTA-LOOP.