True confession time. You may think you know me but unless you’ve lived with me, you don’t know what a brat I can be. Just ask my poor husband because I was such a pill to him this weekend. If my granny were still around, she’d say, “Stop being such a piss-ant Kate!”
I’ve never known anyone else who said ‘piss-ant’. Except for granny. I can totally see her, standing in front of the stove cooking roast beef hash and eggs for breakfast and waving her spatula around while I pick on my little sister. And telling me not to be a piss-ant. Yes, it means just what you think it means. Poor Mike. He puts up with my moods way better than I deserve. Not to say he doesn’t fight back, he will stand his ground and let me know when I’m being a complete brat. He’s not a push-over that is for sure. We are both passionate people and we will fight for our position even when it’s not pretty. And it rarely is.
Eli
Lists, Life and Lion Sweaters
I’m a list maker. A planner. In fact, my family knows only too well: if it’s not on my list it ain’t gonna get done. I won’t name any names, (ahem. husband. daughter.) but my propensity for planning can be annoying. They know I like to plan and have my list and they mock me. Seriously. But …