Bobs and Bobbins

I'm itching to whack my hair off again and rock the mom bob. Only problem is I'm ridiculous and get sweaty palms just thinking about doing it because it reminds me of a different time and place.

If I cut it, will this little peanut please stop growing like a weed? Who's tiny baby is this anyway?

Chris had a scan Monday. All I could think about Sunday night was how God carries him from scan to scan, and covers him with His sweet grace. That thought alone knocks me to my knees with prayers of gratitude in a quick minute.

We had a bit of a scare over Turkey Day weekend that had us on the phone with the Cancer Answer. I wonder. Have they found that blasted answer? Do their elevators still smell funny?  Chris handled it like a rock. Always does. Silly me got all worked up and had to eat three plates of spoon corn bread to calm down. I know it. But the thought of him feeling so bad again just makes me want to hurl. And sweat. And go to Hobby Lobby. *Thank you Danielle for rescuing me and helping me get lost in the wooden letter aisles.*

Mostly I've been rocking the jazz hands and happy dance these days. Filled with joy, and all from this little Sugar Britches adventure. Haven't even had time to blog. Or put away our Fall decor. Or cook anything that doesn't involve a crock pot or a trip to Ricos.

This little machine has a) brought me more quiet time than my garden tub ever did (remember when we didn't buy a house because the tub wasn't big enough for sweet tea and prayers??) b) not gotten us pregnant but taught me that lots of mighty things can happen while you are in the "waiting", c) not stopped running for more than 2.2 minutes, d) stitched about a gazillion fleece scarves, and e) made me SO DERN HAPPY.

I get to shop. I get to monogram everything under the sun. I get to see folks faces filled with joy when they receive their creations. There's nothing sweeter.

Except sweet tea.