To say I’m already missing summer is an understatement. The hubs and I spent the weekend in Arizona to celebrate a dear friend of ours marrying his love, and while the overall desert landscape left something to be desired for this lake and tree-loving Minnesotan (though this view took my breath away time and time again), we spent a good portion of the weekend wondering why we love to live in the blustery, snowy (though more currently, rainy and dreary) Midwest.
A few days of constant sunshine and 80-degree weather in November will mess with you like that.
Before the weekend, however, while still in the aforementioned lake and tree-filled though rainy and dreary Minnesota, I was spoon-deep in this tropical parfait, feeling anxious excitement over the fact that in just a few weeks, it’s Thanksgiving (my second favorite holiday) and a few weeks after that, Christmas (my favorite holiday). Obviously my mind is conflicted between wanting to go back in time and wanting to jet ahead of it — season-wise that is.
Next spring, though? For that I can wait a bit. I still need a few more months of deep breaths and sleep-filled nights before our little lemon-sized babe enters the world. (Deep breath.)