It's really not that hard to get dressed. Nope. 3 year-olds can handle it. The aged and the middle-aged, the teen, and the child can all dress themselves. But this week, it was a barnyard miracle that I had clothes on by the time it was time to leave for the day. I wasn't sitting in my undy-wears, mind you. I just did not want to put on the same skirt, cardigan and shirt combination I've been wearing for the last million billion days! I didn't want to wear my coat, I didn't want to put boots on, I didn't want to bundle up to head out the door. Nope. I wanted to wear flip-flops and a t-shirt. But it's too, too cold for flip-flops, even if they weren't against mission rules. So I wore my polka-dot shirt, my argyle sweater, my stripey socks, and my plaid scarf. Well, that will have to do. And since I put my coat over the top of it all anyway, no one would know that I was a fashion disaster underneath.
In other news: Hayley is getting baptized on Saturday, Sam is going on a mission instead of having her name removed from the records of the church (that's a story to tell! WOW!!), Maria came to church again and wants to be baptized (as soon as she has the courage to put God before her family, no easy task there...), Ashley said this week, "I've been thinking a lot about baptism lately. I feel really good about it!", and I'm staying right here in Appleton until I DIE. Die in the mission, that is. That means I'll be here until March 16 when I drive to Milwaukee. And on March 17, I get on an airplane. HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!
Getting dressed is hard to do, hard to do, hard to do!
Getting dressed is hard to do, tra-la! tra-la! tra-la!
