Today was a pink-on-pink day…

…as requested by my oldest and dearest friend, who I first met when I was sixteen days old.

She will tell you stories of our childhood wherein I bribed, beat, begged, and otherwise cajoled her into leaving her barbies at home and playing “army” in the cornfields and building additions to my treehouse. And while that may be true, it’s fairly obvious that these early excursions into the land of scraped knees and grass-stains did not influence her obsession feelings regarding the color pink one bit.

Needless to say, we are on opposite ends of the female spectrum. She’s all blonde and gorgeous and fluffy pink. And I’ve still got grass-stains on my jeans. (But if you’re reading this SarahBeth, I’ll have  you know my actual toenails are actual pink at this very minute. So at least your influence was not completely wasted on me.)

I took a break from broom-painting when my mom brought over my very first birthday present for this year. And can I just say, I am now in heaven.

In the last four months I have only purchased two new books for myself (thank you, budget restrictions). But books are like oxygen for me. I need them the way I need a palm router. (Hint, hint, Ricky.) Because life without books and power tools? Not. Worth. Living.  

Some of these books I actually owned in a previous life (about a decade ago) just before my mom  cleaned out a closet in her apartment where I had stored some things and, seeing some musty looking old books, experienced a moment of temporary insanity and threw them away. I’ve heard that there are people in the world that do this, but I am not one of them. I hoard books the way old ladies hoard cats.

But now, my Badass Hatchet-weilding Mother is totally forgiven for her overeager closet cleaning. If I don’t pace myself these books may only last me for a week or two (the final Harry Potter book only lasted 5 hours), but it’s still a couple weeks of heaven in my book.