Quitting Time (and other follow-up material)

As I climbed in to bed last night at 9:16, I peeked out my window to our neighbor's house and noticed a work truck still there and men still working.   They built a ramp for the stairs.  It was really nice and impressive, especially since it's just temporary.

Anyhow, the ramp is not the point of interest.  The guys working at 9:16pm blew my mind.  I know, I'm a wimp, I cringe every time my lawyer friends say they work 'til midnight.  Yikes!  Or my friend Lauren talks about residency, ouch!

Not me.  The minute Eloise's head hits that pillow, I am done.  The dishes still out, stay out.  The pillows on the ground, stay on the ground.  It's quitting time.

This job (You know, this child rearing, house keeping job of mine) could occupy my every breath.  There is always something to do and I just have to be okay with it.  (Be okay with that, be okay with that, rinse, repeat, and do it again.  Then maybe I'll believe it.)

Alex said it's my body talking to me.  Just like in seminary when he'd read magazines in the library instead of studying.  It was his body telling him to take a break.  Why do guys seem to "listen to their bodies" better than girls?

In other news, I've been working through your menu suggestions.  Thank you all!  Millie's lentil soup was nutritious and cheap, and Molly's eggplant parmesan was Alex's winner.  You're helping keep my family healthy, happy, and financial sound one meal at a time.  Ahh, thanks.